Big Girls Do Cry Read online

  Isis

  15

  “Shit!” I was so damn angry. Why is it always when you don’t want to get pregnant that it happens so damn easy?

  I looked down in the toilet and saw evidence that my period had just started, ending any hope that I might be carrying Tony’s baby. Ever since he came down from New York last weekend, things just seemed to be going from bad to worse. It was starting to look like I went through all that aggravation of pissing off my sister and getting kicked out of her house for absolutely nothing.

  I grabbed a tampon. It wasn’t like I couldn’t get pregnant. Two years ago, Tony got me pregnant, but I wasn’t trying to have a baby by a married man back then. I was still trying to get over the fact that he had a wife, so I did what I had to do and took the abortion route. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, now I wished I’d had the baby; then I’d have Tony’s ass right where I wanted him—with me.

  I heard a rap on the bathroom door. “Isis, you in there? I need to talk to you.”

  It was Egypt. My heart started thundering in my chest, because I knew things were about to get even worse. Today was supposed to be my moving day. Actually, it was supposed to be last Friday, but Mr. and Mrs. Sunshine seemed to be going through their own patch of stormy days since they’d returned from New York, so they hadn’t pushed the issue. I didn’t know what was up, but neither one of them went to work at all last week. Rashad, who wasn’t much of a drinker, was putting away shots of Jack Daniel’s like an Irish sailor. Hell, he was getting so drunk I almost jumped his bones a couple of times, figuring he’d never even remember it in the morning. Of course that didn’t happen, though, because my sister was in the house twenty-four/seven.

  I knew she was depressed, because all she did was clean and cry. The more she cleaned, the more depressed she was. After the first day, the house was spic-and-span, but she just started cleaning all over again. Whatever it was between those two, there was definitely trouble in paradise.

  Still, I was in no better shape today than I was a week ago, when Egypt gave me the boot. I’d been trying to get her to sit down and talk to me all week. I was hoping to talk her out of giving me the boot, but I wasn’t even sure she realized I was in the house until this morning, when she passed me on her way to work and told me she wanted me out by the time she got home.

  Now here she was, home hours before I was expecting her. Egypt was the only thing standing between me being homeless or going back to live with Momma and Daddy, and this was my last chance to get her to change her mind. I opened the door and hung my head low, trying to look pitiful.

  “I’m still packing.” I just hoped Egypt would have mercy on me.

  “Come down to your room. We need to talk.” She wasn’t being mean, but she wasn’t being nice either, so I couldn’t read her.

  When we got to my room, I sat in the chair across from my suitcase, which was lying on the bed. I was praying she wouldn’t look in it, because I hadn’t packed a thing. “What’s up?” I asked.

  She had the weirdest look on her face. She didn’t look angry, like I would have expected her to. In fact, she looked like she was about to cry. Oh my God, was she going to tell me I could stay before I even started begging?

  “Isis, do you love me?”

  Where the hell was this coming from? Was she feeling guilty about kicking me out? ‘Cause if she was, I might as well play along.

  “What kind of question is that? Of course I love you. You’re my sister. I may not act like it all the time, but you, Momma, Daddy, and Rashad are all I got.” I knew I was laying it on a little thick, but her smile told me I was headed in the right direction. I think she wanted to forgive me. Suddenly, I felt a glimmer of hope.

  “Look, I’m sorry about what happened last weekend. I showed bad judgment, and I disrespected you and your house. That was unacceptable, and I’m sorry.” Talk about kissing ass.

  “I need to know something, Isis. And please don’t lie to me.”

  “Okay …” I had no idea where she was going with any of this. All I knew was that I was feeling more and more confident that I wasn’t going to be packing my bags after all.

  “Are you still mad at me for marrying Rashad?”

  Oh yeah, she was feeling guilty all right. A little more ass-kissing and I’d be home free. “Little sister, I got over Rashad a long time ago. I consider him my brother, not my ex-boyfriend, so don’t you worry about that.” I did my best to plaster an innocent look on my face. “I hope I haven’t given you any reason to think otherwise.”

  Egypt smiled at me, but she still looked sad. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that, because I need to ask you a favor. A big favor.”

  This whole thing was getting weirder by the second. Somehow, the tables had turned, and she sounded like she was the one in trouble, not me. But, whatever. As long as it meant she wasn’t kicking me out, I would agree to whatever favor she needed. I mean, how bad could it be?

  “Anything. Just name it.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed, like whatever she was about to say wasn’t going to be easy for her. Once I heard what she had to say, I understood why. “All right, this is the deal: Me and Rashad have been trying to have a baby since I had the miscarriage, and we haven’t been able to conceive.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry to hear that.” I remembered how heartbroken she’d been when she miscarried. Rashad too. He’d wanted a baby when we were together, but back then, he wasn’t getting the milk without buying this cow. It’s amazing how life can throw you a curveball, though, because if I could do it all over again, I would have been the one sleeping in that master bedroom, and me and Rashad would have a few little rugrats running around by now.

  “Well, I have a proposal for you,” Egypt continued.

  I sat quietly. I had no idea where she was going with this, but I was intrigued. Maybe they needed me to vouch for them with an adoption agency or something.

  “We want you to be our surrogate.”

  I almost fell off my bed. “You want me to be what?”

  “A surrogate.”

  “A surrogate? You want me to have a baby for you?” I had to be sure we both shared the same definition of that word.

  “Yes, Isis, we want you to have a baby for us.”

  That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I just blurted out, “Oh, my goodness. You’re barren? You can’t have a baby?”

  I regretted it as soon as I said it, because her eyes started tearing up, and her lip was trembling like she was about to cry. She was a backstabbing dirty bitch, but I still loved my baby sister.

  “You want me to have a baby for you and Rashad?” I asked, trying to sound a little more sensitive this time. I really wasn’t trying to hurt my sister’s feelings, and even more importantly, I was trying to keep a roof over my head.

  “Please, Isis. You don’t know how much this would mean to Rashad and me,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “So, if I say yes, who’s going to be the biological father to this baby? Am I supposed to go out and find some dude off the street?”

  “No, of course not. Rashad’s going to be the father.”

  “Really?” Oh, this was getting freakier by the second. My head was so full of questions it felt like it was going to explode, but it didn’t take me long to start scheming.

  Was she actually going to let Rashad and me make a baby the old-fashioned way? After all the months of trying to get him back in my arms, it looked like now Egypt was going to practically hand him over on a silver platter. Well, damn. If she wanted to, I sure was willing. I’d give them a baby, too, but I was going to make sure it took a lot longer than they expected before I conceived. Shit, the second Egypt walked out the door, I was going to start taking my birth control pills. Just the thought of being able to get my swerve on with Rashad whenever I wanted—with her permission—was making my day.

  But then, as if she were reading my mind, Egypt said, “We’ll have to go to my doctor and get everything set up. It
takes a lot of planning to do artificial insemination. You do understand you’d have to give up the baby and all rights to it, don’t you? Rashad’s lawyers would draw up the papers.”

  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to knock boots with Rashad, but then again, I wasn’t that naïve. I knew it was only wishful thinking. I didn’t actually think she’d be that stupid.

  I could, however, see the desperation in her eyes. She thought this baby was the answer to all her prayers, when in all actuality, it was quite possibly the answer to all mine. If I had Rashad’s baby, he’d be indebted to me for the rest of his life. He’d probably even leave Egypt for me if I offered to have another baby for him.

  I know she’s my sister, but all’s fair in love and war. Rashad was my man first. I might have made a mistake by choosing Tony over him, but maybe fate was about to turn in my favor after all. Maybe I was being given a second chance.

  “So, what do you think?” Egypt had fingers on both hands crossed. “Will you be our surrogate?”

  “If it’s a girl, will you name her after me?” I smiled, but she didn’t. I don’t think she understood what I was saying. “Just kidding. I’ll do it. I can see how much you want this baby.”

  “You’ll do it?” Egypt sounded surprised and thrilled, like someone who’d just hit the lottery and still couldn’t believe it. She grabbed me, hugging and kissing me, getting me all wet with her tears. She was crying, and so was I. Don’t ask me why.

  “Girl, you my sister.” I hugged her back warmly. “I got your back.” As long as you don’t turn it on me.

  She released me, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh my God, Isis, I love you so much. I can’t thank you enough. You’re not going to have to do anything. I can’t wait to tell Rashad.”

  She looked like she could float on air at any moment, but I brought her back down to earth real quick. Yeah, I needed a place to live, but I was not about to go through nine months of pregnancy and not get compensated. “So, don’t we have to talk money?” “Money?”

  “Yeah, don’t surrogates usually get paid for their services? You know, so they can’t make a claim on the baby?” Time to get paid.

  Loraine

  16

  It was Sunday, and I’d slept in late, something I tried to do on the weekends, since I generally got up at six in the morning during the week. I was lying in bed, curling my toes, feeling lazy. I gazed over at the clock on the nightstand to see if I still had time to get my butt out of bed and off to church for the eleven o’clock service. The red 11:42 staring back at me said, Nope, not a chance. Only way I was going to make church was if Reverend Simmons just happened to get a little long-winded.

  I’d planned on getting up and going to church when I first heard Leon getting ready to leave around eight, but as soon as he heard me stirring, he started kissing on my ears and neck. As usual, he got my engine going but just couldn’t get the car started. That was all right, though, because when he left to go golfing, I finished what he’d started with a fantasy of that sexy Michael Richards. I’d satisfied myself so good that I put myself back to sleep until a few moments ago. I don’t know why God made orgasms, but I’m sure glad he did. I stretched, arching my back as I purred like a satisfied Siamese cat. My body hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

  Since I wasn’t going to church, I figured I’d pass the time reading a book. I picked up The Cartel 2, by Ashley and JaQuavis, off my nightstand. People other than Jerome and Leon didn’t know it, but I loved me some street lit. I could read about pimps and hoes and gangsters all day long, and Ashley and JaQuavis were two of the best at writing that gangster shit. Their stories reminded me of when I was a child in the seventies, living in Norfolk. I used to sneak off and read Donald Goines and Iceberg Slim books behind my parents’ backs.

  As I moved over to Leon’s side of the bed to make myself more comfortable, my toes got entangled in something tucked under the sheets. I laughed, figuring they were Leon’s boxers. Like everything he did in the bedroom lately, he must have been trying to get them off quick. I reached down, pulling them up, and did a double take when I saw a pair of cheap red cotton panties instead of my husband’s usual plaid boxer shorts.

  “What the …?”

  The thing that bothered me was that they were my size, but they sure as hell weren’t mine. They looked like they were purchased at Kmart. I did my undergarment shopping in a much pricier place than where these came from, and I wore only thongs. I looked closer at the underwear, then dropped them when my mind comprehended what I had in my hands. Holding some woman’s used panties was nothing compared to the fact that I’d slept with them rubbing up against me. Just the thought made my skin crawl. That was just so disgusting; I didn’t even want to think about it. What kind of woman leaves her panties behind anyway? She had to know they were missing with an ass that size.

  I got out of bed and headed to the shower, wringing my hands. I felt a real need to get clean. When I finally got past the whole underwear thing, the most troubling thought was that this could only mean Leon had some woman in my bed. Was that fool crazy? Had he lost his mind? Didn’t he know that if I found out, I would kill him? I was so upset I couldn’t even cry.

  I needed to talk to someone, to sort out my feelings and weigh my options. I stepped out of the shower and headed for the phone.

  I called Jerome. The truth was, I hated to tell him something like this, since he already didn’t like Leon, but I had to tell someone who wouldn’t tell my business. Jerome was like my personal safe; he kept all my secrets.

  He answered on the second ring. “Raine, this isn’t a good time.”

  “I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you,” I whispered into the phone, as if Leon were standing right next to me or might walk into the room at any second. I think it was my own thoughts and fears I was afraid of—as if putting these thoughts into words would destroy me and our marriage.

  “Where are you? And why are you whispering?” he asked.

  My voice went back up to its normal tone. “Oh, sorry. I’m home by myself.”

  “Well, I’m not. I’ve got company,” Jerome hissed back, making it clear he wanted me to get off the phone. “Big Poppa’s here, and we’re naked, if you get my meaning. You know he don’t like to be disturbed when we’re getting busy. Call me back in an hour.”

  I know how he cherished every moment with Big Poppa, but he should have known I was in a crisis and I needed him.

  “But, Jerome—”

  He cut me off. “Are you in any physical danger?”

  “No.”

  “Then it can wait. I’ll call you back. Love you. Gotta go.” With that, he hung up. I’m telling you, gay men can be more flighty than women when they’re getting some dick.

  I sat there, dumbfounded. Who else could I confide in? The truth was, there was no one else. Over the years, I had given up quite a bit for the sake of my marriage. I had lost touch with so many friends, because Leon claimed he didn’t like them for one reason or another. In most cases, they didn’t like him either, and they weren’t shy about telling me why. Most of them said they thought I deserved better, but I always ended up siding with my husband. Apparently, that decision was a bad one, because now that I had found evidence of him cheating, I had no one to talk to.

  You know what? Fuck confiding. It was time for confrontation. I was not letting Leon get away with this. It was time for me to be the same woman who everyone in the business world knew me as. I never let anybody in my office get away with shit. I was all up in their face, demanding answers for whatever they’d done wrong. I was a powerful woman. So why should I let Leon get over just because he was my husband?

  I walked over to my closet, grabbed my Sunday best, and got dressed. Twenty minutes later, I climbed in my car and drove straight over to Chesterfield Country Club.

  “Could you tell me what hole Leon Farrow is golfing on?” I asked at the clubhouse desk. I didn’t know if they could actually gi
ve me that information, but if not, I was prepared to walk all eighteen holes of that course until I found his cheating ass. What I was not prepared for was the clerk’s response.

  He looked down at his computer. “Leon’s not golfing here today, ma’am. Next tee time I have for him is Thursday.”

  I tilted my head. “You sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

  But I didn’t trust him. He was a man, and as far as I was concerned right then, every last one of them was suspect.

  I walked out of the clubhouse and looked around the parking lot for Leon’s car, which, it turned out, really wasn’t there. I couldn’t believe this shit. Where was he? Obviously he wasn’t playing golf. By now, I was convinced that he was over at that hussy’s house, screwing her. The problem was, I had no idea who she was or where to even start looking for them.

  Fuming, I drove home to search for more clues, but instead I found Leon’s car parked in the driveway. I jumped out of mine and strode to the door with a purpose. I wanted to stay calm, I was trying to stay calm, but I was anything but calm. My husband was about to meet the new me.

  The second I hit the door, I was screaming his name. “Leon! Where you at?”

  He walked out of the kitchen, carrying a sandwich. “What are you screaming for? I’m right here.”

  I placed a hand on my hip and went straight to the point. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I told you I was going golfing.” He took a bite of his sandwich. It was so obvious he was trying to appear nonchalant. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.

  “Oh, really, you went golfing?” I was about to teach him that he wasn’t a very good liar.

  “Yes, I went golfing.”

  “Where? Because I just came from Chesterfield Country Club, and you sure weren’t there.”

  He stared at me for about five seconds, probably in disbelief that I had finally woken up to his crap. He was so busted. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to squirm his way out of this.