Deal With It (20 page)

Tameka

It
had been almost a week since I’d heard Vance’s voice in my ear, since he’d walked me to class or showed up at my locker. I knew he was at school, because I’d seen him in the bleachers after school, checking out the basketball team’s practice. Had we unofficially broken up? It was a question that had raced through my mind a million times during those lonely days at school.

As I stood sideways in front of the mirror, trying on a pair of jeans that was much too snug, I checked out my stomach. It was growing, and my hips were spreading.

“Oh my God,” Roni said as she reclined on the twin bed in my room. She’d already plastered her Mario poster on my wall, above her head. “You’re showing. You know that, right?”

I sighed “Yeah. I can’t even fit in my clothes anymore.”

“Not to worry,” she said, “because anything you can’t fit in, I’ll be glad to take off your hands.”

“Cute.” I gave her a fake smile and threw my little Aéropostale shirt at her, aiming for her head. “Can’t do anything with that, either. My breasts have gotten so big.”

“Thanks. This will look really cute with your black jeans, the ones with the pink stitching.” She laughed. “I’ll take those off your hands, too.”

“This is not funny, Roni,” I said. “Maybe I should just take Vance’s advice and have an abortion. It’s not too late. I heard you can have an abortion up to twenty-four weeks in some places.”

“When I was pregnant, I was happy to abort the baby, because of who the father was. I hated him, and in turn, I hated the baby. I couldn’t wait to have the procedure and get it over with,” Roni said. “But after it was all over, I regretted every minute of it. No matter who the daddy was, it was still my baby, and he or she didn’t have a chance at life, and I hated myself for killing it. I still hate myself for having an abortion.”

“Did it hurt?” I asked, sitting on my bed across the room from my cousin.

“A little. But I didn’t really have any complications. Not like some teenagers. Some girls have major issues, like cervical damage, infection and internal bleeding,” she said. “I even read about this seventeen-year-old girl in California who died when she took the abortion pill.”

“What’s the abortion pill?” I asked. I felt really dumb about this whole pregnancy thing.

“It’s this pill called RU-486. When you take it, it stops the baby from growing. It’s kinda like having a miscarriage,” Roni explained. She seemed so smart when it came to the issue of abortion—like she’d done some research or something. “In this girl’s case, she took the pill, and a few days later she started bleeding and had cramps so bad that she couldn’t walk. Her boyfriend took her to the hospital, and they gave her some pain medicine and sent her home. A few days later she was dying in the emergency room. Come to find out, there were still pieces of the baby inside of her. She died from an infection.”

“For real? That is scary.” My heart was pounding from the thought of somebody my age dying.

“You should explore your options before you make a decision, Tameka. This is your life, your body and your choice,” she said. “Get on the Internet and read the statistics. Read what other girls have to say about their experiences. Don’t let anybody make the decision for you. Not Vance. And not Uncle Paul and Aunt Mel, either.”

“I haven’t even told them yet,” I replied. “I gotta do that soon.”

I knew I had to tell Mommy soon, before she started noticing the changes in my body. She knew me too well. She could detect the slightest difference a mile away and was already skeptical about my passing up the spaghetti and meatballs at dinner. I knew it was just a matter of time with her. She would be disappointed, maybe even upset, but it had to be done.

“You want me to do it with you?” Roni asked.

“I might need some moral support,” I said and grabbed Roni by the hand. “Come on. Let’s get it over with now.”

“You serious?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said and headed for the door.

My legs were as heavy as lead as I trotted down the stairs. I found Mommy in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. I stood in the doorway and watched her for a moment as she wrapped the extra garlic bread up in aluminum foil, placed it into the refrigerator. She caught me watching.

“What’re you girls up to?” she asked. Her eyes bounced from Roni to me. “You feeling better, Tameka?”

“A little bit,” I told her. “We need to talk, Mommy.”

I didn’t want to waste any time. Wanted to jump right in there and get it over with as soon as possible. Whatever I had coming, I was ready for it.

“I’m listening.” Mommy smiled and placed her hand on her hip.

With Roni behind me, I felt a little more confident. At least if Mommy swung, I had a witness.

“Is Daddy here?” I asked. Wanted to kill both birds with one stone. I didn’t want to have to repeat this. It was hard enough getting it out the first time.

“No, he just left. Went back to the studio,” she explained. “You’ll probably be asleep when he gets home. This sounds serious, Tameka. What’s going on?”

I wished it wasn’t so serious. Wished it was something small, like I’d flunked one of my classes or I’d gotten suspended for fighting. I wished I was in trouble with one of my teachers at school, or I’d wrecked the car, even. Any of those things would be better than this.

“I, uh…” My voice started to crack, and I knew I wouldn’t make it through without crying. The tears came so suddenly, I couldn’t stop them. They were streaming down my face like a river. I looked over at Roni, and she had tears in her eyes, too. She was no help at all—she was supposed to be strong when I was weak.

“Okay, you’re scaring me, Tameka. Tell me what’s wrong.” Mommy grabbed my head and smashed it into her bosom. “Don’t cry, baby. Tell Mommy what’s wrong.”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted.

There! It was out there in the open. Free and clear. She could do with it whatever she wanted to do. I was already prepared to pack my things. I wasn’t quite sure where I would go, but I was ready. Maybe I could hide out at Indigo’s house for a few days, and then at Tymia’s house for a few days—at least until I found a permanent spot. I was ready for the “I told you so” that was surely coming, too. I was ready for the “I’m so disappointed in you” and the “You know better, Tameka,” which she was sure to say.

“I was wondering when you were going to tell me,” Mommy whispered as she held on to me.

I leaned back and looked at her like she was crazy.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” Mommy smiled. “You’ve picked up all these extra little pounds, your face is fatter than it was when you were five and you’ve been throwing up every morning like crazy since we got home from Grandpa Drew’s. And you frowned when I told you we were having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right. You never pass up spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“Why didn’t
you
say something?” Mommy asked. “I thought we were friends, you and I. Thought we could talk about anything.”

“We are friends, Mommy, but you’re still my mother. And you trip out about stuff sometimes,” I admitted. “So you’re not mad?”

“I’m disappointed. Wish you had been more careful,” she said. “But we’ve all made mistakes. I’ve certainly made my share of them, which includes being in the exact same position that you’re in right now.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” I said.

“Who’s the father?” Mommy asked. “That little nappy-headed boy that had you all upset that day?”

“Vance,” I said.

“What’s he prepared to do about it?” she asked. “He does know that this is not just
your
problem, right?”

“He wants me to have an abortion,” I said.

Roni took a seat at the kitchen table. Her head bounced back and forth between Mommy and me. She never said a word, just listened.

“What do you want to do?” Mommy asked. “Do you want an abortion?”

“No. I don’t. I could never bring myself to kill a baby. I already feel it growing inside me. My body is changing every day,” I explained. “But I don’t know how I would take care of a baby. I’m still a kid. Maybe adoption would work.”

“Whatever you decide, I’m here for you, Tameka. I won’t leave you out in the cold,” Mommy said.

Those words eased my fears.

“I want to go through with the pregnancy, and then I’ll decide if I want to give it away or not,” I replied.

“This will change everything in your life. You realize that, right?” Mommy asked. “You’ll be off the dance team. You might have to attend an alternative school next fall. And pregnancy is not easy. Pretty soon you won’t be able to wear your clothes anymore. You’ll be fat, and probably miserable. You’ll hate the way you look. You’ll probably lose what’s his name…Vance. Things will be different.”

“I think that once Vance thinks about things, he’ll come around.” I was still hopeful. “He’ll understand why I couldn’t get rid of our baby. Once he lays eyes on him or her, he’ll see. Just like when Daddy first saw me, he understood why you didn’t have an abortion. Right?”

“Your daddy and Vance are two different people,” Mommy said. “But I’ll tell you this. I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling, but we are definitely going to have a talk with him and his parents. You will not do this alone. He will handle his part of it. That’s for sure.”

The thought of telling Vance’s parents had me on edge again. My heart started to pound. “Couldn’t we just leave them out of it?” I asked.

“Absolutely not!” Mommy said. “You didn’t get yourself pregnant, Tameka. He’s fifty percent responsible. We’ll invite them over for dinner this weekend. Introduce ourselves and get to the bottom of this. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

I hoped she was right. Vance had already stopped speaking to me. He would hate me for sure now, for ruining his life. This plan of action was not going the way it was supposed to. The stuff was definitely about to hit the fan.

Tameka

I
couldn’t stop my knees from shaking as I sat on the sofa in our living room. The button on my jeans was undone, because I wasn’t able to snap it shut. I wore a big sweatshirt and had pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I had changed my hairstyle five times already. Had searched my closet over and over again, looking for something decent to wear, something that wouldn’t make me look fat and out of shape.

Mommy had made little hors d’oeuvres and her cranberry punch, which she usually made during the holidays. She’d roasted a chicken and made smothered potatoes for dinner. The house looked nice and smelled like Mommy’s juniper breeze candle. She’d taught me how to bake an apple pie from scratch, and I was proud when it came out of the oven golden brown. Roni’s task had been to put the rolls in the oven while Mommy took her shower and got dressed. Daddy was working in his office until our guests arrived.

The doorbell rang, and my heart dropped. My knees really started to shake as I sat motionless on the sofa.

“Tameka, get the door,” Mommy yelled as she came down the stairs.

My legs were heavy as I made the short walk to the front door, pulled it open. I forced a smile as Vance’s parents stood behind him on our stoop. His mother offered a sweet smile, but his father didn’t. He just looked serious, probably wondering why I was just standing there looking at them, instead of inviting them inside.

“Hey, Tameka,” Vance said.

“Come on in,” I told them and then opened the door wider for them to enter.

When they stepped inside, Vance started with the introductions.

“This is my mother, Betty Armstrong, and my father, Dr. Vance Armstrong,” he said. “Mom, Dad, this is Tameka.”

“Nice to meet you, Tameka.” Vance’s mother offered her hand for a shake.

“Tameka,” Dr. Armstrong said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“If you don’t mind, can you take your shoes off?” I asked. “My mom is real particular about the carpet.”

“I understand.” Mrs. Armstrong smiled. “I’m the same way about our carpet, too.”

Mommy rushed toward the door, my father not far behind her, as the Armstrongs removed their shoes. My parents introduced themselves to Vance’s parents, and everyone retired to the living room. Mommy offered the Armstrongs some hors d’oeuvres and punch. Daddy popped in a jazz CD while they all chitchatted. Dr. Armstrong talked about his dental practice, and Daddy talked about the music business. Mrs. Armstrong told Mommy how beautiful our house was, and Mommy complimented her on her outfit. Vance, Roni and I sat on the love seat and quietly observed our parents. The mood was pleasant.

Mommy went into the kitchen and put the food in serving dishes.

“You want me to help, Mel?” Mrs. Armstrong asked.

“Oh, no, you sit there and relax,” Mommy said. “Tameka, can you and Roni help me set the table please?”

Roni and I began placing plates, knives and forks on the dining table. Mommy placed the food in the center of the table. When everything was prepared, she invited the Armstrongs into the dining room. Everyone laughed and talked as we passed the dishes around the table. Jazz continued to play on the stereo in the living room, and the smell of juniper floated through the air.

“Thank you so much for inviting us to dinner,” Mrs. Armstrong said, wiping her mouth with her cloth napkin. “This chicken is delicious. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

“We’re glad to have you, and I will give you the recipe, Betty,” Mommy said. “The reason we invited you over is to talk to you about Tameka and Vance, and what we’re going to do about their…you know…their little problem.”

“Problem?” Mrs. Armstrong had a puzzled look on her face. “What problem?”

“Vance,” Mommy said, “you haven’t talked to your parents?”

Vance just hung his head. I could tell that he wanted to crawl into his plate and hide underneath his dinner roll. He had had no idea that Mommy was going to bring up the issue of the baby. He’d thought that my parents just wanted to meet his parents, just so that everyone could get to know each other. I could’ve warned him, but then he might not have shown up.

“What are we talking about here?” Dr. Armstrong asked.

“Well, Dr. Armstrong, my daughter is pregnant by your son, and I thought it was a good idea for the two families to come together, meet and see if we can’t figure this thing out together.” Mommy smiled.

I suddenly wished I hadn’t agreed to this dinner, wished I could change things. It had seemed like a pretty good idea
before, but now, as I sat across the table from Vance and watched how his face changed to a different color, I knew it had been a bad idea to invite the Armstrongs for dinner.

“Son, is this true?” Mrs. Armstrong asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Vance mumbled.

“What were the two of you doing having sex, anyway?” his mother asked.

“And without protection?” Dr. Armstrong asked. “We’ve been over this a million times. You know everything there is to know about safe sex.”

“Dad, we did use protection,” Vance offered. “It’s not a hundred percent effective.”

“How do you even know that it’s your child?” Dr. Armstrong asked.

Mommy stepped in. “Oh, it’s his child. If my daughter says it’s his, then it’s his. She’s not like those little sleazy hoochie mamas out there.”

I had to defend myself. “I haven’t been with anyone else. I’m not that type of girl.”

“I’m sure that you’re a very nice girl, Tameka.” Mrs. Armstrong forced a smile my way. “But there are a lot of young ladies who literally throw themselves at Vance. He plays basketball—”

“Well, you can rest assured that my daughter is not the type of girl to throw herself at some boy,” Daddy said, stepping in. “And frankly, I would like to know what Vance intends to do to handle this situation myself. He needs to step up to the plate and be a man about it.”

“Is she going through with the pregnancy?” Dr. Armstrong asked. “There are other alternatives, you know.”

“You mean, like murdering the baby before it has a chance at life?” Mommy asked sarcastically.

“My son is in his senior year in high school. He has just received a full scholarship to college,” Dr. Armstrong said.

“Prelaw,” Mrs. Armstrong bragged. “He’s going into Grambling’s prelaw program.”

“That’s very commendable. Congratulations, Vance. You should be very, very proud.” Mommy smiled and was as sincere as she could possibly be. “And with all due respect, Dr. and Mrs. Armstrong, you seem like you have done a wonderful job with Vance. I’m sure he’s a very nice boy and all that. We’re very proud of Tameka, as well. She’s been on the honor roll since elementary school, and she had plans of attending college soon, too. But the truth is, they’ve found themselves in this position…and—”

“We’ll be happy to pay for the procedure,” Dr. Armstrong said.

“What procedure?” Mommy asked. “She’s having this baby.”

There was complete silence. I glanced at Roni, and she seemed so uncomfortable and out of place. I felt sorry for her. Wished she didn’t have to be in the middle of my drama. She had enough drama of her own. And the way the fireworks were bursting at the dinner table, I wasn’t sure how things would end.

“These are children,” Dr. Armstrong said. “What do they know about being parents? Absolutely nothing! I know my son is not prepared for fatherhood. I can tell you that right now.”

“Neither was I at his age,” Daddy said. “But I did what I had to do when my wife was pregnant with Tameka. And we’ve been a family ever since.”

“I can appreciate that, brother.” Dr. Armstrong turned toward Daddy, looked him square in the eyes. “But that’s not how we do things in the Armstrong family. He’s much too young to be a father, and we won’t support this.”

“You don’t have to support it, but your son will take care of his responsibilities. That’s not optional,” Daddy said.

“I might put it up for adoption after it’s born,” I said softly, afraid to speak. It was like our parents were the ones having a baby and not us.

Dr. Armstrong stood. “Thank you for dinner, Mel. It was wonderful.”

Mrs. Armstrong stood and followed her husband to the living room. Vance gave me a mean mug, rolled his eyes and then joined his parents in our living room, where they all found their shoes and slipped them onto their feet.

“It was nice meeting you, Mel, and Paul.” Mrs. Armstrong smiled. “It was nice meeting you, too, Tameka.”

“If she decides to keep the baby, we’ll arrange for a blood test once it’s born.” Dr. Armstrong shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll go from there. If it’s my son’s child, he’ll step up to the plate. He’s still going to college and all that, but he’ll do his part. If it’s his child.”

“Oh, it’s his child.” Mommy placed her hands on her hips this time as our entire family joined the Armstrongs at the front door. “I believe my daughter.”

Dr. Armstrong buttoned his trench coat and wrapped his colorful scarf around his neck. “The offer still stands if she’s interested in the procedure. I’ll be happy to pay for everything. I understand there’s even a pill that the women are taking now. It doesn’t even require a surgical procedure or anesthesia—”

“Good night, Dr. Armstrong,” Mommy interrupted. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

As Mommy ushered Vance and his family out the door, I wondered if things could get any worse than this.