Wisdom Seeds (9 page)

“He's a resident at Children's Hospital. His schedule is crazy.”

“A doctor – you never mentioned him. Will we be meeting him any time soon?” Mom was unusually persistent.

I could feel myself blushing. “Of course, Mom.”

“Seems to be serious. Is it love?”

“Yeah, I really think so.”

“I see.” Mom looked over her glasses. “Just remember Dr. Morant is your doctor.”

I felt transparent – it was as if she knew.

Out of guilt I took the bus to the Greyhound station in Camden. I had lied to my mother and, on top of that, anticipated the five-hour bus ride making me nauseous.

Greg met me at the bus station and I cried when he hugged me.

“It hasn't been that long,” he teased.

Not wanting to discuss being pregnant in the bus station, I tried to smile.

“What's the matter?” Greg asked when we got in the car. “I thought you'd be happy to see me.”

I answered without looking at him. “I'm pregnant.”

We rode in silence to his apartment. He never looked at me and intentionally fumbled with his keys while we walked up the steps to his apartment. We sat on the couch. I needed Greg to hold me – he sat at the other end and looked out the window.

“What are we going to do?” I emphasized we.

“I don't know, this is so sudden. I can't think.” He continued to stare out the window.

“I can't have a baby by myself Greg. I'm scared. My dad is going to kill me.” I could feel myself rambling.

“Dani, this complicates everything.” He spoke slowly. “It's a big step – a major commitment.”

“A major commitment?” I snapped, jumping up off the couch and standing in front of him. “What about me being pregnant? Is it more major than that?”

Greg got up from the couch and stood across the room facing me. “I can't marry you.”

“Why? What's the matter? I love you! I thought you loved me?”

He put his head down and put his hands over his face. He took a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets. Sweat was dripping off his forehead. Looking at the floor he whispered, “I do love you, it's just complicated.”

“What do you mean complicated? Being pregnant without a husband is complicated!” I could hear myself yelling.

“I already have a wife. We were going to get an annulment – then she got pregnant.” Greg spoke without taking a breath, almost as if he were reciting a passage he had practiced and memorized.

His words left me dumbfounded.

“A friend of mine does abortions. We can take care of this tomorrow.” He spoke with an air of cockiness.

My words wouldn't come. I had to get out of his apartment. The air in the room thinned out and I felt like I was suffocating.

Greg stood in front of the door. “Dani we need to talk about this. I fell in love with you. I am in love with you. This is not something I anticipated. Not right now.” He had a list of pathetic excuses. His voice was no longer audible, it became an annoying drone.

With nothing left to say to him, I picked up my bag and reached for the doorknob. I don't know how far I walked. I stopped at a phone booth somewhere on Forbes
Avenue and called Alicia. I'm not sure how she understood what I was saying, but she came to get me. I told her everything on the way to the house. We sat on the couch and she held me while I cried. Then I put my head back and went to sleep.

“Dani.” Andrea was shaking me. “We need to talk.”

Alicia was on the floor doing sit-ups. Her weak smile let me know she had already told what happened.

I sat up next to Andrea. “You were right.” I buried my face in my hands and began to cry. “He's married. He has a wife and we're both pregnant.”

“We need to pray.” Andrea motioned Alicia to join us. “Lord we need you right now. Danielle needs you. Lord she needs you in her life. Touch her heart; let her feel your presence. Touch her mind, give her peace. Lord help me to know how to help her.”

While Andrea prayed I thought about Nana – the wisdom seeds were choking on the weeds of my stupidity and withering in the heat of deception.

“Amen,” I repeated after them. “I don't know what to do,” I said still holding their hands. “He wants me to have an abortion. Can you believe that?”

“What do you want to do?” Alicia asked. “There's always adoption.”

“I don't know. I can't have an abortion and I can't give my baby away.” I started to cry again. “I feel so stupid.”

The guest room was a reminder that Andrea had been right. I should have been sleeping in that bed instead of with Greg. Andrea was too gracious to say I told you so and I regretted not listening to her. Guilt and embarrassment kept me awake until almost two o'clock. The first time I made love to Greg played over and over in my head. It had felt so
right, felt so good – love wasn't supposed to hurt.

I pretended to be sleeping until after my cousins left the next morning. It was almost noon before I got out of bed. My mind was still racing and I could feel a migraine coming. “Bubble bath,” I said out loud. “I'll take a bubble bath.” Hot sudsy water always felt good.

As I let myself sink down in the tub I hummed Nana's favorite song. I began to cry, again – Nana probably wasn't smiling. My tears were not growing me, they were drowning me. After twenty minutes the water started getting cold and the bubbles started melting. I wrapped myself in Andrea's robe and detoured to the kitchen to turn on the tea kettle.

The August sun was bright so I closed the blinds. How could I be pregnant? What was I going to do? Why did I fall in love with a married man? Stupid, that's what I was, just plain dumb stupid. I didn't deserve to be anyone's mother.

The phone interrupted my mental pity party. It was Alicia.

“Hey girl, feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I lied. “I'm okay – just fighting a headache.”

“Dani, we're here for you. Whatever we can do, really.”

“I know.” I took a deep breath. “It's appreciated.”

After drinking my tea, I decided to get dressed and make dinner to give my mind something else to think about. The blue jean outfit made me sick. Greg bought it because he liked the way it looked on me. I wished I had something else to put on. Getting dressed proved to be overwhelming and I was taken hostage on the couch by my headache.

“Dani!” Alicia was shaking me and her voice was panicked.

“What?” She startled me because I hadn't heard her come in.

“What are you doing? You got three bottles of pills on the sink, you're here in the dark, blinds closed, lights off – did you take any of those pills? Girl, get up!” The shrill in her voice was piercing.

“I'm up.” I interrupted her. “And no, I did not take any of those pills. I was looking for something to take for my headache and decided to sleep it off. The sun was too bright. I closed the blinds so I could sleep.”

Alicia had one hand on her hip and massaged her temples with the other one. “You're probably hungry. Did you eat today?”

“No.”

“Get dressed.” Alicia was now the bossy one. “We're meeting Andrea for dinner.”

I reassured Alicia that I was pregnant, not suicidal.

My being pregnant and the best way to tell my parents dominated our dinner conversation. There was no good way to tell either of them and I admitted being afraid my dad would put me out. My cousins agreed he would be furious, but were confident my mom would never let him put me out. I apologized to Andrea and admitted that I should have listed to her.

On the bus ride home I cringed at the thought of having to tell my parents. Mom would be hurt, Dad would be angry. How could I explain my predicament? I would stick with the facts. I loved him and believed he loved me. The thought of loving Greg made me sicker than the thought of telling my parents. Greg had lied to me and probably never loved me. It was a game and he won. I got tagged and I was out. He could say he was first.

During the two weeks after I returned from Pittsburgh with my secret, I busied myself job hunting in Atlantic City, Camden and Philly. I had a collection of applications from Psychiatric Departments and Social Service agency – both of which I felt in need of. Fatigue made sleeping difficult and the fear of telling my parents about my pregnancy consumed me. On Friday, I forced myself to go downtown to complete an application at the Community Health Center. The classified ad listed the position as an entry level Case Manager. Although I didn't feel capable of helping anyone, I desperately needed a job.

The heat had taken a temporary hiatus and the weather was a welcomed eighty degrees. I got off the bus and walked down Fourth Avenue. As I turned left onto Main Street I heard a voice calling me.

“Danielle Allen.” It was Rhonda Porter.

“Hey, how are you?” I hadn't seen her since we graduated from high school.

“Good,” she said hugging me. “What's going on? How was Penn State?”

“Had a good time. What about you? How was Rutgers?”

“I got what I went for – it was alright.” She never paused. “I'm surprised to see you; I heard you were in Pittsburgh.”

“I was a summer intern.” I answered, hoping there were no more questions. “What's up with you?”

Her excitement was obvious. “I'll be opening my own pre-school next month. The renovations are almost
done, I'm so excited!”

“That's great Rhonda. Congratulations.” I hugged her.

“I just put an ad in the paper for two teachers and an Administrative Assistant,” she told me. “Are you looking?”

“I'm pounding the pavement for a job,” I sighed. “I haven't decided what I want to do as far as grad school.”

“Girl, you were an honor student and editor of our year book – I know you've got to be organized. If you want the Administrative Assistant position, you got it.”

“I don't know much about preschool, but I was an Administrative Assistant in the Dean's office during my freshman year at Penn State.”

“I can't pay much,” Rhonda smiled, “but it will be a little something until you decide what you're going to do.”

Rhonda and I talked for almost an hour before exchanging numbers and promises to call.

Riding home on the bus I decided to take Rhonda's offer. At least I wouldn't have to continue looking for a job.

Mom was sitting on the porch. “Hi baby,” she greeted me as I walked up the driveway.

“Hi Mom.” I nervously smiled.

“Come, sit with me.” She motioned for me to join her on the swing. “You've been distant since you came back from Pittsburgh. What's the matter? What happened with your interview?”

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and the trees shaded the front porch. Mom was drinking lemonade. She put her glass on the windowsill as I sat down.

“I'm pregnant,” I blurted out burying my face in my hands. The tears flowed as the weight of my secret began to dissipate.

Mom didn't say a word. She held me and let me cry.

“I'm sorry, Mom.” I wiped my eyes with a napkin. “I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“Who is he Dani? Is this your boyfriend Greg?”

“He told me he loved me. We spent the summer together. When I went back to tell him I was pregnant, he told me he was married.”

“Oh, mercy Jesus!” Mom was momentarily speechless. She stopped swinging and she stopped stroking my hair. “He's married?! Where was, I mean did you know he had a wife?”

I shook my head no.

Mom turned my face towards hers. “Is he going to help you with the baby?”

“He wants me to have an abortion,” I answered through tears. Then I whispered, “His wife is pregnant, too.”

“Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord. Lord,” was all she said. Then she contemplated for a moment. “Your father is going to have a fit.”

“I know.” I sighed trying not to imagine having to tell him. “Do you think he'll put me out?”

“Oh, no!” Mom's tone was adamant. “That will not happen. You're going to need my help with the baby.” She hugged me and for that moment I felt secure.

Another week passed and I still hadn't told my dad. Mom continued to remind me that I needed to tell him. I role-played scenarios – there was no good way to do it.

When we returned from church on Sunday I let him settle in the recliner with the paper. Mom was preparing salmon steaks, his favorite, but my news was going to ruin his appetite.

“Daddy, can I talk to you?” I asked, feeling like he could see me through the crossword puzzle.

He sat up in the recliner and folded the paper. “What
is it Danielle?”

“I'm pregnant,” I said, squinting as if the words hurt.

“So you need to be married.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Who's the father? I will speak with his parents about having the wedding next month.”

I plopped down on the couch wishing I could disappear behind the pillows.

“Who is it Danielle?” His voice was now demanding. “Is it Quincy Jordan?”

“No,” I quickly told him. “It's nobody you know.”

“Then who is it?”

“His name is Greg. Dr. Gregory Henderson.”

“Well I need his phone number. I will handle this with his parents.”

I hesitated and then whispered, “He's married.”

“He's what?” My dad threw the paper down and began to yell. “Married! You mean to tell me that you are pregnant by a married man? Is that what you were doing in Pittsburgh?”

“He told me he loved me,” I tried to explain. “He never said he was married.”

My dad got up from his chair and kicked the paper, wildly scattering the pages across the floor. Without looking at me, he went upstairs. He was furious. I heard the study door slam and fell apart, again.