Desert Flower (27 page)

Later, he told me that on the way home that night, he went to catch the subway to his place uptown in Harlem. When he was entering the station, he looked up and there was a huge billboard

of my face staring down at him. He’d never noticed it before, and had no idea I was a model.

The next day the phone rang at twenty past three. I jerked up the receiver. “YOU’RE LATE.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want to meet me for dinner?” We met at a little cafe in the Village and again talked and talked. Now that I know him, I realize how unlike him that was, because he’s phenomenally quiet with anyone he doesn’t know. Finally I started laughing. Dana looked startled. “What are you laughing about?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Go ahead. I already think you’re crazy.”

“I’m going to have your baby.” He did not look pleased to find out he would be the future father of my child. Instead, he stared at me with a look that said, This woman is really crazy, not just hey, let’s party, crazy. “I know you think that’s strange, but I just wanted to tell you. But anyway, drop it. Let’s forget it.”

He sat silently staring at me; I could see he was shocked. And no wonder. I didn’t even know his last name. Later, he said he was thinking, I don’t want to see her again. I’ve got to get rid of this woman. She’s like that loony stalker in Fatal Attraction.

Dana walked me home after dinner, but he was very quiet. The next day I was thoroughly

disgusted with myself. I couldn’t believe I’d said something so obviously uncool. But at the time, it just seemed like the most normal thing to say, like “Oh, it’s going to rain today.” Not surprisingly, I didn’t hear from him for a week. Finally, I gave in and called him. “Where are you?” he asked.

“At my friend’s. You want to get together?” “Oh, God. Yes, all right. We can go for lunch.” “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I put the phone down in absolute shock and horror that I’d just told this man I loved him after I swore to myself I’d be good. No more talk about babies any of that and now here I go and tell him I love him. Oh, Waris, what is wrong with you? Always, when any man was interested in me, I ran. I would disappear. Now here I was, chasing this man I barely knew. The night I met Dana, I was wearing a green sweater and had my hair in a wild Afro. He later told me that everywhere he turned that night, all he could see was GREEN SWEATER WITH AFRO. I explained that if I wanted something I went after it, and for some reason for the first time in my life I very much wanted a man. The thing I couldn’t explain was why I felt like I’d known him all my life.

Dana and I met for lunch and again talked and

talked and talked about everything in the world. Two weeks later I was living with him at his place in Harlem. After six months we decided we wanted to get married.

After we’d been together nearly a year, one day Dana said unexpectedly, “I think you’re pregnant.”

I cried, “What are you talking about, for God’s sake!”

“Come on, we’re going to the pharmacy.” I protested, but he was not giving in. We went to the pharmacy and bought a home pregnancy test. It turned out positive.

“You don’t believe this piece of shit, do you?” I asked, pointing at the box.

He picked up the pack and pulled out another one. “Do it again.” That one was positive as well. I had been feeling sick, but I always felt sick when it was time for my period. But this time was different. I felt worse than usual, with even more pain. However, I didn’t think I was pregnant. I thought something critical was wrong with me I thought I was going to die. I went to the doctor and explained the situation. He did a blood test and I waited an agonizing three days to hear from him. hell What is going on here? I’ve got

some horrible disease and he just doesn’t want to have to tell me?

Finally, I came home one afternoon and Dana said, “Uh, yeah, the doctor called.”

My hand flew to my throat. “Oh, God, what did he say?”

“He said he’d talk to you.”

“Didn’t you ask him any questions!?”

“Look, he said he’d call you tomorrow around eleven or twelve.”

That was the longest night of my life, lying there wondering what my future would hold. The next day when the phone rang, I grabbed it. The doctor said, “I have news for you. You’re not alone.” There you go that’s Not alone -full of tumors all over my body

“Oh, no. What does that mean?”

“You’re pregnant. You’re two months pregnant.” And when I heard those words I just flew over the moon. Dana was delighted, too, because all his life he’d wanted to be a father. We both knew instantly the baby was going to be a boy. But my first concern was about the baby’s health. I went to an obstetrician the second we found out I was expecting. When the doctor did the ultrasound, I told her not to tell me the sex.

“Please, just tell me, is the baby okay?”

She said, “It’s a fine baby, perfectly fine.” Those were the words I was waiting to hear.

Of course, there was one very large barrier to my happy marriage to Dana: Nigel. When I was four months pregnant, we decided to go to Wales together and deal with him once and for all. By the time we arrived in London, I was ill with morning sickness and a bad cold. We stayed at a friend’s house, and after I recuperated a couple of days, I got up the nerve to call Nigel. But when I called him he said he had a cold, too, so I’d have to postpone my visit.

Dana and I waited in London for over a week before Nigel was feeling up to a visit. I called and gave him the train schedule so he could pick us up at the station, and said, “I just want to let you know that Dana is coming with me. And I don’t want any problems, okay?”

“I don’t want to see him. I’ll tell you that now.

This is between me and you.”

“Nigel ‘

“I don’t care. I don’t care. This has nothing to do with him.”

“It has a lot to do with him now. He’s my fiance. He’s the man I’m going to marry. Okay? And

whatever I have to do here, he’s doing it with me.”

“I don’t want to see him and that’s it.” So Nigel had it in his head that I was taking the train to Wales alone. When I got off, he was waiting, leaning up against a post in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette as usual. He looked worse than the last time I’d seen him. His hair was longer now, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

I turned to Dana and said, “Okay, there he is. Now be cool.”

We walked over to him, and before I could get a word out of my mouth, Nigel said, “I told you I didn’t want to see him. I told you that. It was very clear. I made it very clear. I want to see you alone.”

Dana dropped the bags on the pavement. “Look, you don’t talk to her like that, and you don’t talk to me like that. Why do you want to see her alone? What is the deal here? You want to see her alone? Well, I don’t want you to see her alone. And if you say it one more time, I’m going to kick your fucking ass!”

Nigel turned even paler than he already was. “Well… there’s not enough room in the car.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your car. We can take a cab. Let’s just get this thing over with.”

By now Nigel was moving rapidly toward his car, calling over his shoulder, “No, no, no. That’s

not how I do things.” He jumped in, started the engine, and roared past us as Dana and I stood there next to our bags, watching him drive by. We decided it was best to find a hotel. Luckily, there was a bed-and-breakfast right by the station. It was a depressing little dump, but under the circumstances, that was the least of our worries. We went out and ordered Indian food, but had no appetite, so we basically just sat there staring at it glumly, until we decided to go back to our room.

The next morning I called Nigel again. “I just want to get my things. Okay? If you don’t want to deal with this, then forget it. Just give me my stuff.” No deal. Now Dana and I had to move to a hotel because the bed-and-breakfast, where we had spent the night, was booked solid, and it looked like we better get comfortable. With Nigel, only God knew how long this process would take. We found another place to stay, and after we’d moved, I called again. “Look, why are you being such an asshole? Why are you doing this? How many years has this been going on? Seven? Eight? Now, come

“Okay. You want to see me, all right. But just you. I’ll pick you up from the hotel, but if he comes out, that’s it. I’ll drive away. No, just you.”

I sighed, but couldn’t see any other way out of this mess so I agreed.

I hung up the phone and explained the situation to Dana. “Please, Dana, just let me go over there alone and see if I can talk to him. Just do this for me.”

“All right, if you think it’s going to work. But if he touches you, he’s had it. I’m telling you now, I don’t like this shit, but if that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you.” I told Dana to stay around the hotel and I’d call him if I needed him.

Nigel picked me up and we drove to the cottage he was renting. We went inside and he made me a cup of tea. I said, “Look, Nigel. This is the man I’m going to marry, and I’m pregnant with his child. There’s going to be no more bullshit of your little fantasy world where I’m your precious wife and we have a life together. It’s over. Okay? Got it? Now, come on, let’s just get on with it. I want a divorce now, this week. And I’m not going back to New York until we get this garbage straightened out.”

“Well, first of all, I’m not divorcing you unless you give me all the money you owe me.”

“Um, I owe you money? How much? Who’s been working and giving you money for years now?”

“That all went to pay for the food you were eating.”

“Oh, I see. When I wasn’t even here. Well, since you’re so obsessed with this money, how much is it?”

“At least forty thousand pounds.”

“Hah!! Where am I going to get that kind of money? I haven’t got it.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I mean, this is how it is. You owe me money, and I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not giving you a divorce or anything else. You’re never going to be free, unless you come up with the money you owe me. I sold my house because of you.”

“You sold your house because you couldn’t pay the mortgage, and I got sick of paying it. All you had to do was get yourself a job, but you couldn’t even do that.”

“What? Job to do what? What kind of job was I going to get work at McDonald’s?”

“If that’s what you had to do to pay your mortgage, why not?”

“That’s not what I do best.”

“What the fuck did you ever do best?”

“I’m an environmentalist.”

“Yeah, right. I got you a job and they sacked you and told you not to come back. You’ve got

nobody but yourself to blame, and I’m not putting up with this shit. And I’m not giving you a fucking penny. You know what You can take your stupid passport and shove it up your ass. There’s obviously no point talking to you anymore. Ours was never a real marriage, and it wasn’t legal, because we were never intimate.”

“That’s not true. Not now. That’s not how the law reads now. You’re married to me and I’ll never let you go, Waris. Your baby is going to be a bastard for the rest of his life.”

I sat there staring at him, and any pity I ever felt hardened into hatred. I realized the awful irony of the situation. I decided to marry him when he was so eager to help me ‘because it was Allah’s will.” Since his sister was a good friend of mine, I felt if there were any problems, she’d intercede. But she wasn’t around. “I’m getting a divorce, Nigel, with or without your consent. We have nothing else to talk about.”

He looked at me solemnly for a minute, then said quietly, “Well, if I don’t have you, I have nothing. I’ll kill you, then kill myself.”

I froze, trying to decide my next move, then started bluffing. “Dana is coming here to get me. I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.” I knew I had to get out of there immediately, because this

time he’d really gone over the edge. I bent over to pick up my bag from the floor, and he shoved me from behind. I went crashing into the stereo face first, then rolled off onto the hardwood floor, landing on my back. I just lay there, scared to move. Oh, my God my baby! I was so paralyzed with fear that I’d harmed my baby. Slowly I got to my feet.

“Oh, fuck, are you all right?” he cried.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” I said calmly. I realized now what a fool I’d been to come here alone, and just wanted to get out in one piece. “It’s okay. I’m all right.” He helped me up. Pretending to be very collected, I put my jacket on.

“I’ll take you home. Get in the fucking car.” Now he was angry again. While he was driving, I sat there thinking: He hates this baby and nothing would make him happier than to see it dead. Maybe he’s going to try to drive us off a cliff.) I put my seat belt on. In the meantime, he was screaming, cursing, calling me every name he could think of. I just sat there, quietly staring straight ahead, afraid to say a word or he’d hit me. By this point, I was so numb, I didn’t even care about myself, but I cared deeply about my baby. I’m a fighter, and if I hadn’t been pregnant, I would have ripped his balls off.

When we got to the hotel, he screamed, “That’s

it? You’re just going to sit there and say nothing after all I’ve done for you!” The second he stopped the car, he reached across me, opened the door, and pushed me out onto the ground. One of my legs was still inside, lying across the floorboard; I struggled to untangle myself from the car and ran inside and up to our room.

By the time Dana opened the door, tears were pouring down my face. “What happened? What did he do to you?”

I could see it all clearly: if I told Dana the truth, he’d kill Nigel, then he’d go to prison and I’d get to raise my baby alone. “Nothing. He’s just being an asshole, as usual. Wouldn’t give me my stuff.” I blew my nose.

“That’s it? Oh, Waris, forget that shit. That’s not worth crying over.” Dana and I took the first flight we could get back to New York.

Now looking back on this time, despite the way he behaved towards me at the end, I feel grateful for the fact that he often went to battle on my behalf and helped me so much when I was really alone in Britain.