Love Won't Let Me Wait Page 16

  “What about the baby?” Shannon’s head popped up from the floor. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. I had caught her completely off guard. It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to know what we were going to do about her being pregnant. I couldn’t understand why she would want to break things off right then, especially with a baby on the way. Shannon stammered out a response.

  “Ahh, wh, what baby? What are you talking about?” Her response only served to further agitate me. Was she going to try and deny it?

  “Our baby, the one you’re carrying,” I calmly responded. Shannon shifted nervously on the sofa. “I know about the pregnancy, Shannon.” I was beginning to feel like a pugilist. A minute ago Shannon had me on the ropes taking a beating, and damn near knocked out. But that was my turn the tide punch. A left hook to the kidney that sapped her stamina and put her on the defensive.

  “What would give you the impression that I’m pregnant?”

  “Look, cut the shit.” I felt empowered. She had already dumped me so I had nothing to lose. “I saw the receipt from your doctor’s visit. You left it on the floor that day you asked me to get your wallet out of your purse.”

  “What have you been doing, checking up on me? Have you been going through my stuff?”

  “No, I…look that’s irrelevant, answer the question. What about you being pregnant?”

  “Okay, what about it?”

  “Are you or aren’t you?” Shannon snickered.

  “I’m not pregnant.” Her answer only confused me further. I studied her in a futile attempt to get a read of what the hell was going on. I was completely lost and I didn’t like the feeling.

  “Wait a minute, I’m confused.” Shannon folded her arms across her chest. “The receipt was for a prenatal exam. Not a pregnancy test. Unless I’m mistaken, prenatal exams are for pregnant women. The receipt had your name on it. Now you’re telling me that you’re not pregnant. That doesn’t make sense.” Shannon took a deep breath. “So you were never pregnant?” She gave me one of those snotty duh looks women throw at you every now and then when they are upset at you for not being able to read their minds.

  “I didn’t say that,” was her cold response. I stared at her. I was burning up inside, devoid of any appreciation for this game she was playing. I deserved, no she owed me an explanation and I’d exhausted my tolerance for her bullshit.

  “Look, Shannon; stop playing this fucking game and tell me what the hell is going on. Are you or are you not pregnant?” I demanded. She snickered.

  “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I was pregnant and now I’m not, okay.”

  “What are you telling me, you had a miscarriage?” She rolled her eyes at me.

  “No.”

  “Well what?”

  “Kalem, you’re a big boy, figure it out.”

  “No, why don’t you act like an adult, tell me exactly what you’re trying to say, and stop acting like a brat!” Shannon sucked her teeth.

  “I got rid of it okay, damn,” she finally relented. I suppose that I knew what she was trying to say all along, I just didn’t want to accept it. I was trying to avoid making assumptions. Despite the message being clear, I wanted confirmation. I wanted to hear the words come from her cold-hearted mouth. I had never seen Shannon act as callous as she was being right then. I thought I knew her. Sweet, loving, affectionate, and sensitive Shannon. Damn was I wrong. I couldn’t believe how nasty she was being. Talk about flip-flopping.

  “You had an abortion?” I asked. Again with the duh look. I was unfazed. “Well?” I continued.

  “Well what?” I continued to glare at her.

  “Did you have an abortion?” I demanded. Shannon was visibly agitated.

  “How are you not understanding me? I told you I got rid of it. Yes, I had an abor-.” She stopped short unable to even say the word. The glare in her eyes softened and for a moment I thought she was going to break down. I saw a glimpse of the old Shannon, the Shannon I loved. Then just like that, the fire and ice returned. “Look, I’m not going to play this game with you,” she huffed. “I told you I got rid of it and you know exactly what that means.” I felt an instant surge of anger. Like I had been struck with a lightning bolt of emotion. My chest heaved, my blood was racing. I wanted to grab Shannon around her neck and twist it. I exploded.

  “You went out and had an abortion without even consulting me? I didn’t have a fucking say in the matter! You couldn’t even ask me how I felt about it?” Shannon just sat there stone-faced and quiet. “You weren’t even woman enough to tell me that you were pregnant in the first place. I had to go digging in your purse to find that out. I can’t believe that you could be that damn selfish.” Shannon started to speak but instead just shook her head and continued sitting quietly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Shannon?” She didn’t respond. She just started with the foot tapping again. “Don’t you think I had a right to know?” She shifted her body again. She was looking towards the front door. She probably wished she could escape through it right then or that I would just shut up and leave. I sat back down in the recliner. My anger was subsiding some. I was regaining control. I turned to Shannon and spoke in as soft and non-threatening a tone as I could manage. “Shannon, the father has a right to know. You deprived me of any input in the matter. Do you know how impotent that makes me feel?” She looked up at me. Her foot stopped tapping. I continued to stare at her. She hung her head and resumed composing rhythms with her feet. After a few minutes of silence Shannon raised her head and looked me dead in the eye.

  “Kalem, you might as well save your breath because right now I don’t give two shits about a single letter, of a syllable, of a word, of a phrase, of a sentence, of a motherfucking statement you have to say to me okay,” she declared with a roll of her neck. “I don’t know why you think you deserved to know anything anyway. Who the hell even told you that you were the father?” I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Like someone had stabbed me with a humungous, rusty knife, and was twisting the blade further into my chest with every word from Shannon’s mouth. I never even entertained the idea that the baby wasn’t mine. I had been blindsided. Caught with a haymaker and it hurt like hell.

  “Shannon, was I the father?” I asked apprehensively. She laughed at me.

  “You are so pathetic! Put it like this. You know all that shit you just threw at me about the father having a right to know and all that. Well, I agree with you. And you know what, me and the father did discuss it, and we came to our decision together.” She glared at me to drive the point home. “You shouldn’t have been reading my receipts and your ass shouldn’t have made any assumptions. You know what they say about assumptions don’t you?” She asked with a sarcastic laugh.

  At that point I jumped out of my seat. Shannon flinched and threw her hands up in defense. I guess she was expecting me to hit her or something. God knows she was asking for an ass whipping. She was purposely being as nasty as possible in dropping her curtain of deceit and revealing her heart-wrenching little secrets. But I wasn’t going to react in haste, lose control, and resort to violence. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. I straightened out my shirt and strutted towards the door, calm and collected. In the doorway I pulled my keys from my pocket, slid the key to her condo off the key ring and set it on the windowpane. The last little bit of info she dropped on me didn’t even deserve a response.

  My gesture with the key completely set Shannon off. She jumped off of the sofa and started walking behind me yelling. “Yeah, nigga, run home,” she taunted. “Go call up your little lawyer bitch,” she yelled from the doorway as I descended the stairs. I glanced over at the scenery outside Shannon’s apartment. You know the water I previously described as a lake is nothing more than a drainage ditch. I smelled the foul odor of the murky brown water for the first time. And the trees around the lake were more like tall weeds, not to mention the crab grass needed to be trimmed. Shannon continued yelling at me, following me down the stairs.

>   “You think you were fooling me. I knew you were fucking that yella bitch. Friends my ass. Mavis saw you and her all over each other at the Caribbean Beach Club. Why do you think I called your punk ass that late at night? I knew that slut would be laid up in your apartment. I hope you’re happy with her, motherfucker.” I climbed into my Jeep without so much of a glance in her direction. I wasn’t even mad at her anymore. Yeah, I was hurt. I was hurt bad. But more than anything, I felt sorry for Shannon.

  I had been sitting on my sofa staring at the television for close to an hour by the time Raoul finally arrived at my apartment. He walked through the door carrying a bottle of Crown Royal and smoking a Black and Mild cigar. When I’d called and told him it was over with Shannon he didn’t even hesitate. He climbed right off of whatever female he was boning at the time and hustled over to my place. Sure what should have been a fifteen-minute drive took him over two hours but I can’t fault him for wanting to finish what he started. Raoul headed straight for the bar and poured two drinks. He walked over to the sofa and handed one to me. I took a huge swallow.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Shannon?”

  “I told you, dog, that’s over and done with.” Raoul didn’t even flinch. He didn’t seem surprised in the least.

  “What happened with that?” I stared at him as if prompting him to guess. He just shook his head and snickered. He took a pull on his cigar and handed it to me. “I hate to kick ya when ya down but it’s your fault, nigga.” I knew where he was going and he was absolutely correct. It was my fault. I took a pull on the cigar and blew the smoke up over my head.

  Raoul rolled up the left sleeve on his Polo pullover and showed me the tattoo on his shoulder. It was a tattoo of a bald-headed baby wearing boxing shorts and no shirt. The baby had on boxing gloves and was posing with his right arm cocked back as if preparing to punch someone. The sentence above the baby’s head read: “Don’t Luv Em.” And below the feet read: “Don’t Trust Em.” Raoul rolled his sleeve down and took a sip of his drink. I did the same and handed him back the Black and Mild.

  “Remember that shit? You taught me that. You obviously forgot your own motto,” he asserted. I finished off my drink and walked over to the counter to pour another. “You can’t trust these hoes man. Falling in love and shit, fuck that. A bitch is a bitch is a bitch, ya heard me.” Raoul was regurgitating every piece of advice I and Ice Cube’s music had given him over the years and you know what, it was all making sense. I just wished I would have listened to my own damn advice. I sat back on the sofa next to Raoul. He continued.

  “You slipping, dog. You slipping bad. I can’t believe she played you like that. Damn, King!” He shook his head. Raoul was rubbing it in and I knew it. But it was exactly what I needed. A stern reminder not to ever let it happen again.

  I stood up and walked over to the IPod docking station. Raoul grabbed my empty glass off of the table, walked over to the bar and poured us two more drinks. I picked up my IPod and scrolled through the playlist until I found Mark Morrison. He walked over and handed me my drink. I needed to hear every piece of criticism, every smart-ass remark, and every line of my own advice that Raoul was dropping on me. Just to drive the point home. I’ll be damn if I get caught slipping again. I found the song I was searching for. A fitting theme song for the moment, Return of the Mack. I turned the volume up as high as the system would allow. I downed my drink in one gulp and looked over at Raoul. He was grinning from ear to ear.

  Later that night as I lay in bed still buzzing from the bottle of Crown Royal Raoul and I had all but finished; I engaged in an unsuccessful battle to vanquish all thoughts of Shannon. My three-hour macho male drinking session with Raoul and all my declarations of a return to my earlier days as a player were far from my mind.

  I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about how the woman I was in love with had ripped my heart from my chest, squatted down, and pissed on it; all the while laughing at me and calling me a fool. Return of the Mack was still playing on the IPod. I had put it on repeat. I listened to Mark Morrison sing on about his return to form as a player. I listened to him, and I felt like crying. But this time I didn’t fight it, I just let it flow.

  I’d spent the entire day at work locked in my office, looking over the Intellica deal. I figured if I stay busy with work, I could keep my mind off of Shannon. Raoul had called a couple of times to see how I was doing, and Josh called to let me know he was back in Columbus. He still had not spoken to Stacey. You believe that shit? I lacked the energy to get into it with him about that. I had problems of my own to deal with.

  I sat at my desk thinking about how I had changed since I first left Orlando to move to Charlotte. I had evolved into a completely different organism. I hardly recognized myself.

  I used to be aggressive and proactive. Lately it seemed as if I was perpetually on the defensive, limited to reacting to what the people around me were doing. A counter-puncher if you will. With Perkins and Intellica, Toya, even this bullshit with Shannon. I should have seen that coming a mile off. Her continually running back home to Baltimore and neglecting to even call and let me know she had arrived safely. I damn near had to put out an APB every time I tried to find her up there. I should have figured out that she had something going on. She had me fooled with that fake ass sweet and sensitive routine. Raoul was right I had slipped big time. Well not anymore. I’m through taking everyone else’s crap with a smile. It’s time for me to revert back to my old ways and confront all this bullshit head on. I’m going on the offensive, starting with Intellica.

  Chapter 10

  I walked into Reasons’ office carrying every memo, fax, and copies of email that had passed between my office and Intellica. I also had copies of all of our proposals and their counter proposals tucked away in my briefcase. I was hell bent on getting the deal completed. I figured making progress would require I bypass Perkins and take my pitch right to the top. I was going to go right at the man himself, Reasons. It was all a part of my newly rediscovered aggressive personality.

  After Reasons and I poured over all of the paperwork I had brought in tow to his office, he requested that I leave the documents with him so he could study them further. I had no idea what he was up to but I made sure he was clear on one thing before I left. I told him: “Bob, you can disregard any of the proposals made after August seventeenth.” That was our second offer to Intellica and it was well over market value for the company. But, if Reasons accepted, Calango would still make out like a bandit. “All subsequent proposals have been withdrawn. That’s our final offer now the balls in your court.” After that I shook his hand and walked out of the office.

  Recalling the look on Reasons face brought a smile to mine. My aggressive, demanding persona must have thrown him for a loop because he hardly said a word. He was definitely in shock. He had never met the old Kalem before. Well he and everyone else had better get used to it because the old…no, the real Kalem is back. And this time he is here to stay.

  I rode out to Toya’s house that afternoon listening to the Jim Rome Show on the AM sports radio station. Normally I would be engrossed in the entertaining commentary Rome offered, but today I was depressed with thoughts of Shannon. As hard as I’d tried I couldn’t get over how badly I had misjudged her. It was shocking to see how malevolent and obscene she could be. I kept picturing her yelling at me from the top of the stairs outside her condo. The only person I could compare what I saw in her at that moment to is her sister Shay, the man-beater from Baltimore. I wondered if she had ever loved me at all or was it just another act in some sick play she was performing with me as her unwitting co-star.

  I had repeatedly proclaimed to Raoul at my apartment the other night that everything was cool. “Yeah, I’m hurt but it’s not like I was in love with her” I kept telling him. I don’t know if he believed the lie I was repeating to him but it helped me to get through the moment. I definitely didn’t want to break down crying over Shannon in Raoul’s presence. He would neve
r let me live that down.

  I thought about where I had gone wrong. I had been through this all before. My first girlfriend in high school cheated on me with my cousin. My first girlfriend in college cheated on me with her brother’s best friend. And then there was Cherise, followed by a myriad succession of harlots. Maybe the problem wasn’t with the women; maybe I was doing something wrong.

  I’ve dated good women who made excellent partners, gave me their all, and never betrayed my trust. In those cases I was the one who did the screwing up, inevitably finding a way to blow it for some freak that I would wind up falling for, and of course eventually get my feelings hurt. Come to think of it, all of my relationships with good women lasted less than six months. And of course those with the Cherise types in my life went on for years. Shannon was the exception, but who knows how long she would have played me had she not gotten pregnant? I could have wasted four years or more on her before finding out who and what she really was. Just like I did on Cherise.

  I sat in Toya’s living room and slouched on the sofa as she continued her preparations in the kitchen. She was making rice and peas, brown-stewed chicken, and fried plantains. Not even a home cooked Caribbean dinner could cheer me up. I was still depressed like a mug. Every now and then I would mumble a response to Toya’s ongoing chatter about the case she was working on but I was barely listening to her. My mind was way over in Bayfront Condominiums somewhere, wondering what Shannon was doing, and with whom. I wondered who the father of her disposed of child was. Was it somebody I knew? Probably some cat from Baltimore or some guy from high school that she always had a thing for. In the midst of my thoughts Toya walked into the living room still going on about the case she was working.