Never Knew Love Like This Before

  “Sure,” Glenda said, sounding a little perkier now. Tim had changed her mood although she would be the first to deny it.

  “Are you sure you should?” Tim asked.

  “Why not?” Glenda asked.

  “Well, with the circumstances,” he said. Glenda’s mood instantly changed to irritated. How dare this kid try to be my daddy, she thought.

  “Why not?” Glen asked at the same time. Tim’s hands went up in surrender.

  “It was just a suggestion . . . a word of caution maybe.”

  “My aunt doesn’t need any caution, dude! Look here, go get changed and let’s go, Auntie. And Tim, just because you’re studying to be a woman doctor doesn’t mean you know everything about every woman you meet.” Glen went on, while heading to the kitchen. “Where is Simi?” he asked again while sticking his head deep into the refrigerator.

  Chapter 6

  After the run, Tim parted company with them. He had to get back to his practice. Glenda found it fascinating that he was a practicing doula. Glen was wrong; Tim was a male nurse and newly certified doula. He had plans on going to medical school in the future maybe, but for now, he was enjoying where he was, career wise. She didn’t know much about the profession of doula, but she was impressed just hearing him speak about it. He was so passionate about his role in helping women give birth and his voice was enchanting . . . deep and soulful. She wondered if he sang, and if so, did he sound like Barry White.

  “So how many babies have you assisted with?” Glenda asked, slowing her jog to a quick walking pace. It seemed psychosomatic almost that she had tired so quickly. Glen left the two of them to drag behind.

  “So far none, I just got started. But I’m more than ready.” He laughed, causing Glenda to take note of her heart and its beating. Everything about Tim was attractive. She felt a little embarrassed, surely he was no older than Glen and if so, not by much and that put him around fifteen years her junior.

  “Ready for what?” Glen asked, passing them on his second round of the track. He too had slowed to a power walk, yet his pace was still faster than theirs.

  “Childbirth,” Tim yelled towards his back. Glen stopped abruptly.

  “What the hell are you two talking about?”

  Glen and Glenda entered their regular eating spot. It was such a habit for them to go there after a run they didn’t think twice about it.

  “Are you going to be all right? I mean, what does Simi have to say about it?”

  “Glen, you have not been listening,” Glenda finally sighed.

  “I’ve been hearing you. You’re pregnant. I got that loud and clear . . . thank you very much. And how crazy is that, Aunt Glenda?”

  “Well, I’ll find out Monday just how crazy it all is. I go see my regular doctor and—”

  “What about Simi.”

  “Dammit Glen, Simi is not here. He’s gone. He’s very, very gone. He’s having an affair and last night he left me.”

  The silence covered the table. The waitress sat their plates in front of them and smiled but they did not see her, they were too busy staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Simi left you . . . with a baby. He left you?”

  “No, he doesn’t know I’m pregnant and I’d rather not tell him until I’m sure what I’m going to do about this.”

  “What you’re going to do?” Glen asked.

  Just then, Simi walked into the café and stood stiff and tall as if suddenly realizing a habit of his own. When in town, he met her and Glen there on Saturday, after their run. It was pathetic in Glenda’s opinion his being there. But then she was no better—a creature of habit. She and Glen had even sat in the same booth. “This is so ridiculous,” she sighed at that fact as well as the other one—the fact that he was here. Glen’s large hand covered her as if he felt her growing tension.

  “What do you want?” Glenda asked, her words coming through gritted teeth. She felt so out of control. It was so unlike her to grow angry in public this way. She hated this moment in time and wanted it over.

  “Don’t let this clown upset you, Aunt Glenda.”

  “Glenda, I want to talk today, I told you that,” Simi said, and then quickly looked at Glen with his face twisted up. “And what did you call me, boy?”

  “There is nothing to talk about,” Glenda said, standing and gathering her purse.

  “Don’t do this, girl, there needs to be some closure,” Simi added.

  “Closure?” Glenda laughed out loud and then with a sudden charge of emotion she slapped his face. “When you closed that door last night you got all the closure you’re gonna get,” Glenda said, hurrying out.

  “And shame on you, caaaalown,” Glen threw in. Simi noticed, cutting him a reprimanding eye. Glen paid it no mind as he rushed out to catch up with Glenda. Just then the waitress came up slapping the bill in Simi’s hand, as was usual for her to do. She’d missed the angry exchange.

  “You always get here in time to pick up the tab, Mr. Dixon. You’re such a great husband,” she said with a grin.

  “Damn,” Simi groaned, reaching in his pocket for his wallet.

  “Want a doggie bag?”

  “No, apparently I’m the only dog here and I’m not hungry,” he mumbled.

  By the time Glenda and Glen reached the car, Glenda was shaking, livid, and nauseous. They drove off. Realizing that she hadn’t paid the tab she slapped her forehead.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t pay, now I’m going to have to send Simi a check.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I don’t want him in my life at all. He has no rights to pay my bills or anything. I’m done with him!” she yelled, digging in her purse for her wallet. Suddenly, throwing her head against the seat, she hollered out. “I’m sick!”

  Glen, shocked at her outburst, pulled over. “Glenda, stop it! You have to stop this. You are acting crazy. You and Simi have been married too long for you to just act like it’s as simple as writing a check, like you can just go on your way and have this baby like Simi is no part of your life. I know what you’re thinking and this flight to Egypt isn’t leaving tonight. Besides, you’re not in condition to fly anyway.”

  Glen knew her too well. She was not ready to face all this.

  “I’m not in denial, nowhere near it, and I’m doing just fine,” she lied, tossing a peppermint she took out of the bowl on the restaurant’s counter into her mouth.

  “Please, last night your marriage ended and today your man showed up and you slapped the taste out of his mouth, and now you’re popping hard candy like you’ve been riding in a car through a windy mountain range . . . you’re not doing well.”

  “Well? I’m not well?” Glenda screamed. Just then nausea got the best of her. She threw open the door and vomited in the gutter. After a moment of regrouping she sat back in her seat, totally humiliated. “I’ll tell you what is not well,” she began, with tears steaming down her face. “This . . . this is not well,” she said fanning her face. “This crying, and screaming and . . .” she closed her eyes. “. . . throwing up and otherwise acting a fool in public. No, this isn’t going to work. I’ve got to see my doctor and then my lawyer. I’ve got to get all this mess behind me. I can’t do this. I can’t have this baby and I can’t forgive Simi for any of this. I have things to do at work. I have a simple life.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Abortion?”

  “It’s too big of a change Glen, I can’t do it,” she sobbed into her hands. Glen began to rub her back in a circular motion the way he remembered her comforting him when he was a little boy . . . crying, lonely, and scared. Glen was always scared of something, bugs, bullies—the new mother that came every year, it seemed. But Glenda was constant and maybe Minx too, as much as he hated to admit it. He wouldn’t know what to do without them, and now one of them was hurting. No, things were not at all well and it was all Simi’s fault.

  Chapter 7

  The evil alarm bellowed out its hellish cal
l at four-thirty A.M.as was its usual task. But this morning, it was a wicked assignment. Hung over, bloated and swollen from her night of binging on Big Macs and whipped cream–topped coffee drinks, Glenda was regretting life. After she got home from the attempted jog and run-in with Simi she cried a little longer before realizing her hunger. Rubbing her belly she felt the rumble. “Yeah, yeah, you’re hungry . . . always hungry . . . like Simi,” she sniffled. She then chuckled at the one-sided conversation. “No, Glenda, you will not be one of those women talking to their bellies,” she reprimanded.

  Noticing the soft jazz coming from the stereo she decided on something a bit more upbeat before venturing into the kitchen.

  “Break it down,” she called out, dipping low and swinging her hips to the rhythm of the dance beat. Tossing the salad she began to feel the effects of a lightening heart. Before she stopped herself she even fantasized about Tim, his strong youthful physique, and how it would feel to have him spinning her on the dance floor under a disco ball.

  “Hell, if Simi can cheat I can too . . . even if it is in my mind.” She giggled at her mischievous thoughts.

  Soon her craving got the best of her. Opening the cabinet, she pulled out a can of kippers, eating them right from the can with her fingers before opening a package of crackers to lay them on. After she finished them, she looked for something to wash them down. Not finding it, she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. “What I want has to be out there somewhere.”

  At the time, it all felt so good. But now, with a full day of work ahead of her, she felt worse than she ever thought possible. Stepping into the shower, she was regretting life. Her breasts were full and tender to the touch. They had been overly sensitive for a while now, only before today she had tried to pay them no mind, as Simi had noticed their fuller look and was giving them a little extra attention . . . much to her pleasure. But today they were in her way and painful and for the first time she noticed the slight pudginess under her navel. “This can’t be, this is all too soon,” she said to the mirror, shaking her head. She didn’t want to think of her last true menstrual cycle or the possibilities of being too far into this pregnancy to get out.

  Beating most of the East Bay traffic, she’d made it into the city and to her doctor’s office by eight sharp. This was crazy, living, driving, and commuting for the most part, but until now she just did it without a thought, but now suddenly she wondered about all of it—the stress. How would she manage all this stress?

  The nurse called in back within five minutes. “What’s up, Glenda,” Dr. Margau asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

  “You’re not going to believe this but . . .” Glenda chuckled, trying to sound nonchalant. His face was serious. She’d sounded nearly panicked when making the appointment, and now she was trying to laugh it off. “I went into the ER Friday . . . silly really, I was light-headed and well, they said I was pregnant.”

  “Really?” His brow raised and his mouth dropped open.

  “Yeah, isn’t that crazy. Me?” She placed her hands on her chest dramatically; again her tender breasts caught her attention. “Crazy hormones of mine must have had that little test strip reading incorrectly.” She laughed loudly . . . a little too loudly.

  “Well, it’s not really all that crazy Glenda,” he answered, opening the door and calling in his nurse. Glenda could hear herself swallowing. The nurse came into the room.

  “We want to get a pap, pelvic, and blood draw on Mrs. Dixon and a transvaginal ultrasound.”

  “Now, what are you about to do? No . . . I don’t want to do this.” Glenda began to panic again, the same way she did in the ER after Gerri left the room, while the young man was trying to convince her that she was pregnant. “I can’t be pregnant. I . . . I can’t have a baby,” she told that young doctor and now Dr. Margau.

  “And that means?” Dr. Margau asked, prepping the room for the exam.

  “I can’t do this. I want an abortion.”

  “Just relax, Glenda, and let’s take one step at a time. Let’s first establish viability, okay?”

  “I don’t see the point, I don’t want it,” Glenda fussed, stepping behind the curtain and sliding from her tight skirt and wrapping the paper around her.

  “Why not, you’re as strong as a horse.”

  “What did you say?” she asked, showing irritation in her tone.

  “Get up here and slide to the edge,” he said, patting the table, prepping her for the exam.

  After removing the speculum, he reached inside her with one hand and began to push on her belly with the other. She flinched at the discomfort, feeling as though she had a hard tennis ball in her abdomen. “That hurt?” he asked. She refused to answer, fighting to keep the grimace from coming to her face. “Ummhmm,” he mumbled.

  Moving the monitor where she could see the baby if she wanted to, he readied her for the ultrasound. “Now relax, this won’t feel any different than a pelvic okay?” Dr. Margau said, placing the ultrasound scope inside her. Glenda turned her head away so she wouldn’t see the picture that started coming into view.

  “I want to come in as soon as possible for the procedure,” she said, trying to make conversation.

  “Right,” he said, sounding as if only half listening and concentrating on his job.

  “I’m not going to go through all this,” she went on.

  “Wow, looking real good,” he and the nurse said, conferring on the picture they saw coming into clear view.

  “What do you see?”

  “You should look,” he told her.

  Glenda gulped air, fighting with all her might not to turn her head facing the monitor. “You see something?”

  Dr. Margau clicked a button on the ultrasound machine. Glenda then heard the sound of the fast-paced metronome.

  “What’s that? What’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s your baby,” he said, a smile parting his lips. He’d been her doctor for nearly twenty years, but Glenda had to admit, this was the first time she’d seen him smile. “And if next time you come this child is flash dancing like this we’ll be able to clearly see if it’s your son or your daughter.”

  Glenda finished crying and blowing her nose finally, as Dr. Margau patted her shoulder. “I’m going to send a referral to a perinatologist I know. I believe you should see him instead of me. Just your age alone makes you a high risk and if you are sure you want to go through with this I want you to only have the best of care.”

  “You think I’m at risk?”

  “I would say no, but Glenda, this is your first baby and well . . . a few tests wouldn’t hurt.”

  Glenda raised her hand to stop the rest of his thought from coming out. “And I’m old,” she said, finishing what she thought to be his next words.

  “Not old . . . mature,” he chuckled, looking younger than he’d ever looked. Glenda laughed.

  “Fifteen weeks? How can I be so far along? I’m so into my body, how could I have not known?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe you missed something besides a period, Glenda. Sometimes when you think one thing so adamantly, you can ignore the reality of something else.”

  “Like that flu I had at the start of the year? The one you said was probably just stress because you couldn’t find anything wrong with me.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed, patting her shoulder again.

  Chapter 8

  Glenda was in a daze by the time she reached the office. She didn’t even remember the heavy traffic and congestion. She sat in her car, listening to her jazz CD, for the first time thinking of her baby. Had she felt it moving thinking it was gas or just a hunger pain?

  “A baby,” she said in an undertone, stepping from the elevator.

  “Hey there Glenda,” Dave said, nearly bumping into her. It was as if he had been waiting like a puppy by the door, for her.

  “Oh Dave, hello,” she greeted, a little surprised at his in her face presence. Had the grapevine gossip already started? She looked for Ge
rri, who sat working hard, no doubt filling the void that a morning at the doctor’s office had caused. Gerri was a hard worker, despite her domestic issues. Glenda hadn’t given her much credit for that lately, nor had she delegated much to her, but things around this office were about to change. As much as she hated to admit it, Gerri did a darn good job considering all the craziness she lived under. Glenda realized that here she was simply pregnant and about to fall to pieces and yet Gerri had had four children since she started working there and had only taken six weeks off per child. She and her husband had been through hell . . . money problems, infidelity, in-laws . . . sickness, the works and yet Gerri never had taken any unauthorized time off because of any of it.

  When she went into her office, Gerri followed with a notepad in her hand. They had worked together for five years and Gerri knew her well, she was ready to get to the business at hand. Glenda smiled.

  “What?” Gerri asked, looking around.

  “Nothing.”

  “Glenda, this morning, we had calls from just about everyone and—”

  “Aren’t you going to ask how I’m doing?”

  Gerri looked at her closely. “No. It’s not like you’re going to tell me. You all but said get my nose out of your business and soo . . .” Gerri huffed. Glenda fanned her hand at the door, noticing Dave hovering.

  “Close the door.”

  Gerri’s eyes bugged out of her head and she ran to obey. Tossing the pad onto the desk she put her hands on her hip and took in a ragged breath as if she’d been holding it all morning.

  “Tell me, I can take it,” Gerri began, sounding altogether serious. “Just lay it on me.” She sliced the air as if having braced herself. Glenda laughed, pulling the picture of her dream house off the small corkboard and holding it. “Oh my God, the picture . . . you’re holding the picture . . . you’re dyin’,” Gerri gasped, covering her mouth.

  “No, crazy. You are so crazy,” Glenda giggled. Gerri, noticing the girl-like giggle, took a closer look at her.