The Veil (24 page)

After her decision was made, she could not get any sleep at night. She tossed and turned all night long. She slipped off the side of her bed and on to her knees.

“Lord, I need you now. I love you and I know you love me. I may not understand all your ways or even why my life is like it is. But, if I am doing the wrong thing, please stop me. Give me a sign or something. I'm not happy. Please restore me to the joy of my salvation,” she prayed.

Arising from her prayer she continued to have a nervous feeling that made her body shake each time she thought about having an abortion. However, she fought to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

Finally, the day had arrived for her abortion. She woke up with morning sickness that she could not get used to. She got dressed and waited for Pam to pick her up. She heard a knock at the door. She opened the door and gasped when she spotted Aunt Mattie standing in front of her.

“Aunt Mattie. I didn't expect to see you here. Come on in. I'm waiting for Pam to pick me up. She should be here in a few minutes.” Misha frowned. She felt so bad and nervous she could not fake being cheerful. Aunt Mattie stepped into the room, and before Misha could close the door, her grandmother appeared carrying a large shopping bag. “Grandma.”

“Misha, how you feeling?” her grandmother asked.

“This morning sickness is rough. It'll be over soon and I won't have to worry about it anymore.”

“You know I don't get in everybody's business. But I have something for you,” her grandmother said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a box and handed it to Misha.

“What's this?” Misha asked.

“About a month ago Miss Ida Mae called me and asked me to take her shopping. She purchased this gift for you,” Aunt Mattie said as they rounded the sofa and sat down.

“Can I open it?”

“It's fo' you,” her grandmother said.

Her aunt nodded her head yes and watched Misha open the package. Misha started to cry when she saw the contents of the box. There was a pink blanket with a small newborn outfit that had a small hat. There was also a blue one in the box. There were matching pink and blue booties. She picked up the items and pressed them to her chest.

“Misha, I wanted you to have these today,” her grandmother said. “You been believing God for a baby.”

Misha nodded her head.

“Doctor said you couldn't have none. But, God said different. Now I can't tell you what to do. But, seems like God done His part. He waiting for you.”

“Misha, sometimes our greatest joy comes after our deepest pain. I'm not telling you what to do. Everybody's telling you this child's going to be crazy because of what happened and how he was conceived. I want you to remember one thing: this child is also a part of you. He may have your smile, your intelligence, and even your sassiness. Do you want to go the rest of your life asking yourself what if? You prayed for a child. This may be the way God answered your prayer and how He's restoring your joy. Don't let other people convince you to abort everything you have prayed and worked so hard for just because it didn't come the way everybody expected,” Aunt Mattie said.

There was a knock on the door. Aunt Mattie and Ms. Ida Mae stood up and walked to the door. “This must be Pam. Remember what I told you. This baby is a part of you. Do you want to give that up?” Aunt Mattie said as she pulled open the door to see Pam standing in the breezeway.

“Whatever you do, we love you. But, I can't support killing no babies. That's my great-grandbaby. There is a reason why this child come to this world. Only God knows,” Ms. Ida Mae said. She reached out and hugged Pam. “Mo'ning, Pam. We was just leaving. Misha, I'll call you later to see how you're doing.” Aunt Mattie and Ms. Ida Mae walked out of the apartment.

Pam walked into the room closing the door behind her. “What did Aunt Mattie and Grandma want?” she said, spotting Misha clutching the baby clothes tightly and crying. “What's wrong?”

“I can't do it. I won't do it. I'm keeping my baby.”

“Somehow, I knew you were. I told Justin you wouldn't have it done.”

“Why didn't you stop me?”

“You had to make the decision on your own.” She sat down beside Misha on the sofa. “Aunt Mattie bought you baby clothes?”

“No. Grandma did, a month ago. She gave them to me today.”

Pam looked down in the box and saw the card. “What's this?”

“A card from Grandma.”

“What does it say?”

Misha opened up the card. She was too emotional to read it. So, she gave it to Pam to read.

Both of them began to cry as Pam struggled to read Grandma's handwriting. Although the grammar and spelling were bad, they knew she had written it herself. Misha knew this was God guiding her in the right direction.

“Just like Ms. Ida Mae. She's still bossy.” Pam started laughing. “How's she going to name your children?”

“Elizabeth and Matthew. Grandma has faith. I wish I had the faith she has.” Misha took the card and read it again. “I'm sorry I had you get off of work for nothing.”

“Don't worry about it. What you want to do now?”

“I guess I better start taking those vitamins Dr. Trinidad gave me and call to schedule an appointment with her.”

“You're going to be showing soon. Let's go shopping. They make cute maternity clothes now.”

“Maternity clothes. I didn't think about that. I'm on a tight budget now. My comp case was denied by the State. My attorney is appealing to the commission. Hopefully, I'll get a check soon.”

“Don't worry about money. I'll buy you a couple of outfits. You need something new. Then we can go to my house and see if you can wear some of my old maternity clothes.”

Misha laughed.

“What's so funny?”

“I just thought about what Mama's going to say when she finds out I didn't have an abortion.”

“Oh my goodness. I didn't think of that. We'll at least wait until after lunch to tell her. We don't want her to ruin your day. Come on, let's go.”

Misha sat in her apartment, having her own pity party. She had promised Judy she would help her with the baby but she didn't feel like going. She was now twelve weeks pregnant and her clothes were beginning to fit a little snug. She stood in front of the mirror, trying to imagine herself at eight months' pregnant. She stuffed a pillow under her blouse and turned from side to side.

She sat on the bed. She didn't want to go through this pregnancy alone. Her head snapped at the sound of her phone ringing. Checking the caller ID she saw it was her attorney.

“Good morning, Misha.”

“Good morning, Eric. Hope you are calling with good news.”

“Indeed I am. The Workers' Compensation Commission approved your case.”

Misha jumped up and did a little dance around the room, waving her hands in the air, until she heard Eric's voice calling to her.

“Misha, are you still there?” Eric asked.

Misha placed the receiver to her ear. “Yes, I'm here. What does that mean?”

“You didn't hear what I just said. Did you?” He laughed. “That's okay. I know you are happy to hear this. It means you will be getting a weekly check until your case is settled. Your first check will cover all the back payments they owe you from the time of your injury. It's a pretty sizable amount.”

“This is minus your twenty percent, right?”

“No. I don't get anything until we fully settle your case. All the weekly checks are yours to spend as you need to. You should be getting the first check by the end of the week.”

“What about medical coverage?”

“I'm still working on that. But it's nothing to worry about. You are getting your checks now. The medical coverage is soon to follow.”

“Thank you, Eric, for everything.” She punched the end button on her phone and threw her hands in the air. “Thank you, God, for making a way.” She placed her hands on her belly and leaned forward to talk to the growing baby inside her. “Hear that, little miracle? Mommy's going to have some money now. We've got to go to Aunt Judy's and help with Rafael. Please let Mommy enjoy her breakfast so I can have strength to make it.” She rubbed her stomach as she talked to her baby. Her spirit brightened and she felt the strength to visit Judy.

 

 

She arrived at Judy's house feeling much better than she did that morning. She was looking forward to seeing the baby. She had not seen him since he was born. He had only been out of the hospital a couple of days. With so much going on in her own life, she just hadn't been up to going to the hospital or visiting with Judy.

“Hey, Judy. Where's the baby?” Misha rushed past her into the house.

“He's over there in the bassinet. Please don't wake him. He was up all night.”

Misha walked over to the bassinet and watched Rafael sleeping peacefully. “He's so cute. He looks like you.”

“That's what everybody says. Look at you. You're beginning to get a little pooch.” She walked over to where Misha stood, gazing in the bassinet, and placed her hand on Misha's belly. “Here. I've got some of my maternity clothes for you. I'm not going to need them anymore.” She walked toward a basket of clothes near the fireplace, picked it up, and placed it near the door. “I'm setting these here so you won't forget them.”

“Thank you,” Misha said as she leaned into the bassinet to get a closer look at the sleeping child. “He's so tiny. What's this?” she asked, pointing to the small white box at the lower end of the bassinet.

“That's the apnea monitor. He has to wear that to be sure he doesn't stop breathing when he's asleep. So far, the alarm hasn't gone off. Come on. Sit down.”

Judy waved her over to the sofa. Misha sat down beside Judy and began a conversation that flowed from one subject to another, not staying on any topic for long until they heard Rafael cry. Misha walked to the bassinet. “Can I pick him up?”

“Go ahead.”

Misha slowly picked up Rafael and held him closely to her body. She smiled when he barely opened his eyes, squinting as if the light was hurting them. Misha squealed with delight at the sight of him smacking his lips. She sat down and rocked him back and forth, watching him twitch from side to side.

“I think he likes me,” Misha said. She continued rocking him until Rafael's face twisted like he just ate a sour lemon and he opened his mouth and let out a loud scream. She held him up against her chest and patted his back. This did not calm him down. She became nervous. “What's wrong?”

Judy leaped from the sofa and walked toward the kitchen. “He's probably hungry. I'll go get his bottle.”

“You're not breastfeeding?”

“After three kids? No way. Let me get his bottle before he really gets mad.” Both of them walked to the kitchen. Misha tried everything she knew to get him to calm down. She tried rocking him from side to side. She sang. She talked baby talk.

Finally, Judy lifted him from Misha's arms and placed the nipple of the bottle into his mouth. This silenced Rafael as he sucked the milk out of the bottle. He calmed down and desperately began drinking the milk. Judy cradled the baby in her arm and walked back to the family room. Misha eased down beside her on the sofa.

“You do that so well. I hope I'm as good a mother as you.”

“I've had lots of practice.” Judy lifted the bottle from the Rafael's mouth and glanced at it to measure how much the baby had eaten. Satisfied, she placed the bottle on the end table. Then, without missing a beat, she lifted the now-sleeping baby on her shoulder and patted his back until a loud belch emerged from the baby's mouth.

“Judy, sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. I wonder if I'm going to be a good parent. I wonder what I'm going to tell this child when he asks about his father. I get so depressed with it all.”

Judy stood with the sleeping baby and walked to the bassinet, where she lowered him inside. “You shouldn't think about things like that. It'll come naturally. As far as his father is concerned, God will direct you when the time comes.”

“I know. I get so worried sometimes.” Misha watched as Judy returned to the sofa.

“You've got too much time on your hands. What do you do all day?” Judy crossed her legs underneath her.

“Not much. I don't go anywhere. I've got a lot of things on my mind.”

Judy took Misha's hand. “Misha, let me give you a hint to a good pregnancy. A happy mother equals a happy baby. If you're sad all the time, your baby is going to be sad. But if you're happy, your baby is going to be happy. You should get out the house. Join an exercise class. Go to the movies. Do something. Don't stay in the house.”

“I don't think I can do something like that.”

“Why not? Misha, look. I know the past year has not been a good one. You've had the cancer, and the rape, but it'll get better. It always does.” She stood and walked to the kitchen island where her purse sat. She reached in and pulled out two tickets. “Randy and I got these tickets to Bernard Taylor's concert at the Fox Saturday night. We can't make it though. We were going to give them to my sister and her husband.” She walked back to Misha. “Here, take them. You go to the concert. Relax a little. It will be all right.”

Misha reached out and took the tickets from her. “Bernard Taylor? Who's that?”

“It's a gospel concert.”

“I can't take your tickets.” She handed them out to Judy.

“Girl, take the tickets. We can't go now that Rafael is at home. Come on. Go to the concert. It'll take your mind off things.”

“Well, okay. How much do I owe you?” Misha placed the tickets in her purse.

Judy's eyebrow arched. “Now I know you didn't ask me that.”

Judy sat down and their conversation continued until Misha became tired and left for home. Finally feeling better about being out of the house, she decided to stop by the grocery store before she went home.

At the store, she walked down the aisles, trying to look confident. Yet, she felt so exposed. After only going halfway through the store, her nerves overwhelmed her. She went to the self-checkout, trying to avoid the long lines, and drove as fast as she could to get to her apartment.

She quickly ran into her apartment and slammed the door as if someone were chasing her. She paced the floor in her apartment, chanting Judy's words: “A happy mother equals a happy baby. God, I want my baby to be happy. I want to be happy. Help me,” she cried out.

 

 

Saturday morning Misha woke up expecting the usual weakness and nausea. To her surprise, she felt like she had some energy. She bounced from the bed and cooked some grits, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. She had so much energy, she washed her clothes and cleaned her apartment without complaining.

She walked downstairs to the mailboxes and pulled out a stack of envelopes and returned to her apartment. On top of the stack was her first workers' compensation check. Misha ripped open the envelope and gasped at the amount. Now, she could pay her rent on time without asking for help, and still have money left over.

“A happy mother is a happy baby. Come on, miracle, we're getting a makeover.”

She quickly dressed and headed for the mall, where she knew she did not need an appointment to get her hair cut. On the way there, she stopped by the bank located across the street from the mall and deposited her check.

The salon was crowded with ladies in various stages of getting their hair styled. Misha listened to the hodgepodge of conversations in the salon while the stylist wrapped her newly cut hair. She noticed three distinct themes in the salon: men, church, and hairstyles. The television and radio blasted over all the noise in the salon.

A stylist wearing latex gloves and holding a long, thin comb in her hand shouted for everyone to be quiet. She quickly turned off the radio and picked up the remote for the television and pressed the volume control.

Misha turned to focus on the television screen. She looked around the salon. It seemed as if everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the screen. It was a music video. She couldn't believe a music video would make the entire salon come to a standstill.

“That's my song,” the lady said as she danced around the salon with her hands in the air. “Look at him. Y'all, that's my husband.”

The women in the salon laughed at the woman's antics. “Girl, Bernard Taylor don't want you,” another stylist screamed.

Bernard Taylor? That guy looks familiar. How do I know him? I haven't seen this video before.
Misha thought as she stared at the video,
I know I know that guy.

“You watch. Tonight at the concert, he's going to pull me out the crowd and he's gonna sing a slow, sweet tune in my ear. . . .” The stylist wrapped her arms around her body and pretended to slow dance. Then she screamed and threw her hands in the air, sending the comb she was holding flying across the room. “I got my tickets early. I'm in the third row.”

Misha couldn't help but laugh at her antics too. The woman was so animated. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. That man's a preacher. Besides, he don't want no black girl anyway.”

The conversation went to whether he was white or black or both. They debated about his hair being natural or processed. They debated about everything they could think of about him. Then they began loudly discussing whether gospel artists were taking Jesus out of their music and trying to sound and look like hip-hop artists. Throughout the intense conversation, Misha kept wondering how she knew him. She had been down that road before and did not want to return.

Finally, after several hours, her hair was finished and she drove back to her apartment. She looked at the clock. She looked around her empty apartment and decided to go to the concert to avoid sitting alone one more night. Besides, the tickets were free and she might enjoy herself.

She tried on clothes to see which outfit she was going to wear. Soon realizing many of her clothes were fitting snugly around her waist, she sat on the bed, wondering if she should try to put on maternity clothes. She looked in the basket of clothing Judy had given her. She found a simple black skirt with the elastic panel on the front. She had her own fuchsia-colored tunic blouse that still fit her. It would go well with the skirt and would cover the front panel.

After dressing, she looked in the mirror. She did not look pregnant. That was good in case she ran into someone she knew. She did not want to explain anything to anyone who did not know her situation. Looking at her toes, admiring the free pedicure the salon gave her while she sat under the dryer, she chose a pair of black strappy heels to wear.

Misha left her apartment and drove to downtown Atlanta. As she got close to the theatre, hoards of people jumped out in front of her, trying to cross the street. She drove slowly until she found a parking space and followed the large crowd to the Fox Theatre.

There was a long line outside the box office. A large sign read S
OLD
O
UT
. A lady at the front held up the ticket line, trying to convince someone inside to sell her a ticket. Misha looked in her purse and pulled out the two tickets. She walked up to the lady and gave her the extra ticket she had. The woman looked at the ticket and started jumping up and down.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. A front-row seat? You got to be kidding. How much are you selling it for?” the woman screamed.

“You can have it. Be blessed.” Misha walked away. She looked at her ticket. She didn't realize Judy had front-row seats. She hated sitting in the front row at concerts. The speakers were always too loud. If she had known, she would have worn pants instead of a skirt. She didn't want Bernard Taylor to get a free show too. She stood back from the crowd and wrestled with going in the building or going back home. Since she was already there, she decided to stay, and if the music became unbearable, she would leave. She walked into the building and an usher escorted her to her seat that was in the center of the front row.