Fly on the Wall (30 page)

She hung up the phone and tried to relax. In bed, she turned on the television, but the audio on every show, movie, or news became the argument she had with Theo earlier.
Get the fuck out . . . We didn't have sex . . . Fuck you . . . I am a man . . . She wanted to go down on me . . .

It took all of the good sense she had left not to pick up the phone and call Ian to tell him that he had gotten his wish. His daughter had fucked a future NBA star, which was the first step in his get-rich scheme. He could probably retire early if Angie did a good enough job, especially without a condom. Pregnancy meant a guaranteed paycheck.

The phone rang; Craig again. “You need anything?”

“No.” She tried to hinder him. “You don't have to—”

“I'm almost there. I'll call you when I'm at the door.” Craig hung up.

Five minutes later, the phone lit up again. “Are you at the door?” she answered.

“No, and you better be glad that I'm not.” As the female voice spoke, Paige looked at the caller ID. It was Theo's house number. “How could you do this?”

Paige pretended not to know who was on the other line. “Who is this?”

“This is your boyfriend's mother,” Eva said in the harshest tone Paige had heard in a long while. “What kind of woman are you?”

“Ms. Lakewood, I know that you're pretty upset right now, and so am I. I am in no mood to have this conversation with you.” She tried to be civil.

“You don't have to talk,” she said. “I'll do
all
of the talking.”

“Sorry, I just don't—”

Eva interrupted. “Why would you want to ruin my son's life?”

“Ruin his life?” Paige asked. “I'm the one without a job now.” She paused. “Maybe this is a conversation you should have with your son.”

“Why, because he found someone younger than you? Or is it because he found someone better than you?” She finished off with, “He's eighteen. What the fuck is your problem?”

“Wait a fuckin' minute.” Paige sat up. “You are not calling my house at three in the goddamn morning with this shit.” Paige recalled all of the things Theo had said about his mother. “Your lonely ass needs to get a life, always walking around crying about not having a man. Don't hate me because mine just happened to be your son. You just can't stand the thought of him caring for anyone if it's not you.”

“He always had girls here,” Eva lied. “You couldn't think for one moment that my son was serious about you.” Eva snickered. “After all, you couldn't even please your own fuckin' husband.”

Paige pulled the phone from her ear and shouted, “Don't you
ever
fuckin' call my house again, bitch.”

Since Theo's mother had reminded her of who Craig really was, Paige was further enraged when he arrived. Craig's agenda was always pussy. His plan tonight was to give her some sympathy dick to ease the pain of her frustration. He was going to let her cry on his shoulder, talk it all out, but the forecast was, before morning, to be deep in her pussy. He really didn't give a shit about her problem.

She met Craig outside and didn't allow him in, telling him that she really needed to be alone. After twenty lines similar to, “I just want you to know that someone cares,” “you shouldn't be alone right now,” and “I'm here for you,” Paige stood her ground and sent him away. There would be no more sympathy sex in her house.

“I
have so much going on this time that I decided to write you a letter,” I said and spread my blanket next to Toni's tombstone. “I know how nosy you are, and I didn't want to forget to tell you anything.”

It was eight o'clock on a sunny Saturday morning in June, but it was so hot it felt like it was one in the afternoon on an August day. I found comfort in the lush green grass that cushioned me. Someone, probably Derek, had recently put fresh flowers on Toni's grave. As though she could really hear me, I described each sunflower, orange rose, blue delphinium, red carnation, and yellow daisy to her. “It's beautiful, girl.”

After sitting in silence, tracing her name with my fingertip over and over again, I looked at my watch. It was 9:30. My appointment was at 10:30, but I couldn't leave without telling Toni what was what in my life.

“Let's get started.” I pulled the long letter out of my purse.

“Dear Antoniqua.” I burst out laughing. I frequently joked that her name had to be short for something, so I made up names for her. It always brought us joy. I continued to chuckle and started over.

“Dear Toni, it may seem foolish and almost ungrateful to say this, but at times I feel that you're the lucky one. You have no more worries, fears, or pains. You've crossed over and . . . left me behind. You have escaped what we, still here, have to deal with . . . all of the regular bullshit of being alive.” I paused awhile and scanned what I had just read. It made so much sense when I wrote it, but now it just sounded like drivel. I skipped most of it.

“Well,” I took a deep breath, “a lot has happened since the last time I visited. I figured you would enjoy knowing that Marcus is still single.” I looked away from the paper. “You used to kid about something happening to you and said that Marcus would have someone else before rigor mortis fully set in, but he still talks about you.”
Yeah, every day when he, ever the lawyer and loving husband, calls me with updates on the wrongful death lawsuit that he is filing against Derek
.

“Marcus misses you, and is doing a wonderful job with Kevin and Devin. By the way, I saw them yesterday, and I didn't think it was possible, but they're more handsome than ever before.”

“They miss you. I miss you. You've been here for four months, and I will never get used to coming here to be close to you.” I looked around. “Toni, I feel somewhat guilty about what happened to you. I don't think that I did enough to stop you from going there that night. For some reason, I feel that I could've said or done something to keep you from ending up here.”

Tears crawled downward. “I still pick up the phone and dial your number. I call when I know that no one is there, just to hear your voice on the answering machine.” I shook my head from side to side. “I miss you so much.”

“I managed to look at your cell phone bill. I have Derek's number, and have been fighting the urge to call him and ask about your final moments. I want to know, and then I don't want to know. I'm not sure if I'm ready to deal with whatever he may say.” My heart ached. “I don't want to think that you felt anything or that you struggled. I find peace in thinking that you just slipped away.”

I couldn't believe that our friendship was reduced to me reading to a block of grass in hopes that my words would sink seventy-two inches below.

“By the way, I'm single again, and also unemployed.” I tried to smile. “The Theo thing didn't work out. We broke up about two months ago.” I paused.

“I know that you want the whole story, so I'll give you as much as I can. Here you go. Courtland, who I learned was screwing Doran, saw us together in Key West, and threatened to fire me, so I just quit.” I paused and looked away from the note.

“Well, his plan was also to humiliate me, and that he did. The bastard had reporters waiting for me at the school the day I went to resign. I refused to answer any of their questions. However, Mr. Theo comes out and reveals the entire thing with cameras rolling and all.” I stopped to breathe and giggle. “And I told the reporters about Courtland and Doran.

“Believe it or not, it gets worse.” I sighed. “That same night, Theo and I were at my house and Doran called. He informed me that Theo had cheated on me with Angela, the girl from the pool party that I couldn't stand.” I sighed again. “I kicked him out, cussed his ass out, and haven't seen him since. I've spoken to him a few times, though. He calls every so often to ask if he left this or that at my place or to ask how I am. I keep the conversation short, very short, but I haven't heard
anything
from him in about three weeks, so I guess he got the picture.” I thought for a second. Did I get the picture?

“I miss him, though. I'd be lying if I said anything different, but I meant what I said about not allowing another man to hurt me twice.” I was nervous. My fingertips traced the letters of her name again as the wind rustled my shirt and hair.

“I have one more thing to tell you.” What I had to say wasn't on paper, and until that moment I hadn't planned on telling her. “Since the day that I met you, you always had one wish for me, and you died without that wish coming true.” The tears flowed faster. “Toni, I am two months pregnant.” I stopped to let her soul rejoice a bit. “But when I leave you today, I'm going to an abortion clinic. I'm not keeping the baby.” I cried.

“They already made me out to be a pedophile on the news. Thank God he's eighteen or I would be in jail.” I wiped my tears. “I can only imagine how people would treat me if I had this baby. It wouldn't be fair to either me or the child, especially the child.” I stood up before Toni could whisper words to make me reconsider.

“Please forgive me.” The sun became hotter. “I just cannot put myself through this.” I struggled to fold my blanket as fast as I could, but it was like she was tugging on it, asking me to stay, to think it over a little more. I couldn't. “Watch over him or her when they get there today.” I blew a kiss in the wind and tried to make myself smile. “I'll see you in a few weeks.”

 

 

The reporters seemed to have lost interest in me, especially since Theo couldn't be seen coming to or leaving my house. However, as a precaution, in a Marlins baseball cap and the darkest shades money could buy, I pulled into a parking spot at the clinic and scoped out the front of it before scurrying toward the door. I had gone to extreme measures to see that no one learned of my “appointment.” I rented a car two days prior and had been staying in a hotel under an assumed name ever since. The last thing I needed was my “procedure” on the five o'clock news.

“Ms. Black?” A lady in pink scrubs opened the door and looked into our faces, each of us more nervous than the woman to her right. “Ms. Michelle Black?” the nurse called again, and then I quickly remembered that it was the name I had given them since my intention was to pay in cash.

“Right here.” I stood up.

She smiled. “Come with me, please.”

As I walked away, I wondered what the women I left behind in the waiting room thought of me. Did they speculate as to what my reason for being here was? If they knew my situation, would they deem it worthy? Or was I just selfish? After all, I wasn't raped and carrying the child of a violent stranger. I hadn't been beaten by an aggressive lover after which I had not felt my baby move for days. I wasn't fourteen and scared to death of my father. I was simply a woman who hadn't used protection. I had no story to tell, and I had no good reason. I
was
being selfish.

“Right in here, Ms. Black.” The lady pointed into the small room.

I was nervous. “Thank you.” Were thanks appropriate? I mean I was about to have an abortion in the damn room. Why would I say thanks? I was trippin'.

“The nurse will be with you shortly. She'll prepare you for Dr. Roth.”

“Oh, I thought you were the nurse.” I was worried about meeting too many people in this place.

“No, I'm just a receptionist.” She smiled. “But I am in nursing school, though. I graduate in a month.”

“Good for you.” I forced a smile.

Ushering me into the room, she said, “Just change into the hospital gown behind the curtain, then get comfortable. The nurse will be with you shortly.” She closed the door and left me all alone.

I didn't want to look around the small, gray room. I didn't want to see something that would scare the shit out of me. It would serve me better not to see or focus on all of the pointy metal instruments seemingly glaring at me. I purposely looked down at the green-tiled floor, stepped behind the curtain, rested my purse on the floor, and began removing my clothing.

I heard the door open and felt a bit of a breeze hit my back. “Ms. Black?”

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I'm fine,” I lied from behind the curtain. “How are you?”

“Well, it's my first day back at work.”

“Are you the nurse?”

“Yes, ma'am.” I heard the door close.

“Were you on vacation?”

“No, just a short leave.”

I struggled with my jeans. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions while you're changing?”

“No.” I finally got out of the stubborn pants. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” She rustled some paper. “What is your age?”

I joked, “You want the truth?”

“I'm afraid so.” She giggled.

“I'm thirty-two.”

“Thank you.” She continued. “Have you had one of these procedures before?”

“No.” I frowned. “No, I haven't.” Who would or could do this more than once?

“Okay,” she said. “Do you, or any immediate member of your family, have a history of any of the following illnesses . . . ?” She read off a long list of sicknesses that to my knowledge had as much to do with abortions as, ahem, George W. Bush has with honesty.

“Did you say insanity?” I asked.

“ No. ”

“Okay. Well, no, I'm all clear then.” We both laughed.

“You requested the twilight anesthesia, correct?”

“Yes.” I put on the hospital gown and tried to tie the annoying strings in the back. It was like a cat chasing its tail. I reached to the left and they swung to the right. I reached to the right and they swung to the left.

“Who did you bring with you?”

“Huh?” Her question threw me off.

“Who will be driving you home after the procedure?”

They told me over the phone that I needed someone to drive me back, but I didn't think that they would actually ask. “My husband is at a coffee shop a few blocks away,” I lied. “I'll call him when I'm ready.”

“He could've been in here with you.”

“No,” I said adamantly. “No, I'd prefer doing this part on my own.”

“All right.” She continued. “Just to verify information, you are under twelve weeks, correct?”

“Yes.” I finally tied the strings. “I am two months pregn—” I stopped myself. Saying the word
pregnant
just didn't seem right. “I am two months into this.” I stepped out from behind the curtain and suddenly felt too unsure of myself, and my decision, to hold my head up.

“Do you know if—” The nurse stopped talking, but I felt her staring at me. “Paige?” Did she call my name? “Paige Patrick?” How did she know me?

“I'm Michelle Black.” My heart sped up as I looked into her face without knowing who she was. “Who are you?”

“You are
not
Michelle anything.” She was a tall, thin black woman with long, straight hair. She looked to be about forty, but not a year older. She was light brown, with a narrow face and full lips. The white uniform, stockings, and shoes actually looked like a fashion statement on her.

“I am Eva Lakewood.”

“Shit.” I rolled my eyes. “What a clinic I picked.” I grunted and made a move to walk back behind the curtain, but she grabbed me by the arm and looked down at my stomach region.

“Is that Theo's baby?”

I pulled away from her. “No, it's
my
baby.”

“Did you tell him?”

“The only person that needs to know found out two weeks ago, and if there was an appointment available at that time, I wouldn't have run into you.” I added, “Therefore, no one needs to know about this.”

She followed me behind the curtain. “You should've told him.”

“What for?” I looked up at her angrily. “Can I have some privacy, please?”

She stepped away from the curtain. “It's his right to know.”

“What the hell do you care about what I'm doing? I thought you'd be glad.”

“A lot has changed.”

“Well, I didn't get the newsletter,” I huffed then I continued talking and putting on my clothes. “Wasn't it you that called me and cussed me out a few months back?”

“Yes,” Eva spoke in a light whisper.

“Didn't you say that you were glad that he cheated on me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Thank you,” I interrupted. “So, why give a shit about me being pregnant or having an abortion?” I pulled my shirt over my head. “You have me out of your hair and your son's life.”

“I'm sorry about the things I said to you that night, Paige.” She paused. “The truth is, Theo and I had a terrible argument that night. He said some upsetting things to me in order to defend you and,” I heard grief in her voice, “instead of hurting him back, I decided to hurt you.” Without saying another word, I pulled up my jeans, grabbed my purse, and bolted around her.