Chapter 24 Jada
I couldn’t go to work.
I couldn’t go home.
Not with an ultrasound photo that felt like a thousand-pound brick in my purse.
I couldn’t feel my body as I walked out of the clinic and down the sidewalk—it was almost like I was watching myself from the outside as I went to the nearest bench and sat away from the dark, dirty bubblegum spot on the green metal.
Cars drove by, but I couldn’t distinguish the roar or the engines from the roaring sound in my ears.
My purse sat next to me, and I took the sonogram picture back out, looking at each of the little whorls. Committing the image to memory.
Only after my vision blurred did I realize I was crying.
I was about to be a mom, and all I could think was how much I missed my own mother.
She would know what to do right now. Even better, she would hug me and tell me it would all be okay.
Closing my eyes, I imagined what she would say while she wrapped me in her arms. Just take the next best step.
When I was stressing about which college to go to, she reminded me not to stress about making the perfect decision that would get me to the dream destination.
She said one “good” step at a time was the path to a better life.
So I took a deep breath and grabbed my phone out of my pocket. After a few rings, my boss’s voice came on the line. “Sunnyside Daycare, how can I help you?”
“Esther, it’s Jada.”
“Jada, honey, how are you feeling? I’ve been praying for you to feel better.”
“Still off,” I told her, holding back a sniffle. “I should be in tomorrow though.”
“Okay, let me know if that changes. Focus on getting better. And tell Glamma I said hi.”
“I will,” I replied and hung up the phone.
One good step.
Which one was next?
I took out a folded piece of paper in my purse and opened it back up.
There was a list of suggested items for me to start using.
Prenatal vitamins for the baby and oil for my skin.
Looking up from the page, I glanced around, seeing a drugstore farther down the street on the corner.
Two out of the three lights were burnt out on the sign, but I could see people going in and out.
My next best step.
As I walked to the store, I studied my body in a way I’d never done before. Each little movement of my muscles, every shift of my skin, the way my thighs rubbed together over my work pants.
How had I missed an entire human growing inside me?
The store’s doors slid open as I approached, and I walked inside to the supplement section. There were shelves upon shelves dedicated to pregnancy. Instantly, my chest tightened with anxiety. But I remembered my mom’s words.
I found a green bottle with Prenatal in big, bold letters and picked it up. There were enough pills in the bottle to last the remainder of my pregnancy—if I carried to term. In my arms it went, along with a massage lotion located in the same aisle.
Before I could stress too much, I walked to the checkout line and paid.
One good step.
As I walked outside of the store, I looked up and down the sidewalk, realizing my next step was to go home and tell the father.
The bus stop wasn’t too far, and my mind wandered on the ride. When I got back home, I realized Glamma wasn’t there. It was her day to play mahjong with her friends at the nearby coffee shop.
Relief swept through me as I walked back to my room.
It used to be my mother’s room. Now, I imagined she was there with me as I kicked off my shoes, crawled into bed, and got under the covers.
Scrolling through my phone, the number was easy to find.
The handsome man whom I’d met at a girls’ night out with a college friend visiting from out of town.
He’d brought me to a luxurious hotel room and taken the edge off all the stress I’d been feeling.
When I’d woken up in the morning, he was gone, but he left behind a note with a phone number and the words: In case you want to do this again.
I didn’t even know his name.
He didn’t know mine.
It had been wild and sexy and exciting and... totally out of character. Which was why I’d never texted him again even though I saved his number in my phone. Clearly he was no stranger to the “no strings attached” thing, and that just wasn’t me. Well, not usually.
I heaved a great sigh, slouching lower in my bed so the blanket brushed under my chin as I began texting.
Jada: Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Jada. We met a few months ago and stayed at The Retreat.
I sent the message and stared at the screen. Should I send another message? But then the read receipt came through, and three little dots.
My heart rate skyrocketed. I hadn’t expected him to reply this quickly, not in the middle of the day.
Unknown number: I remember you. You’re hard to forget.
Butterflies danced in my stomach, despite myself.
Then he sent another message.
Unknown number: Want to see me again?
I bit my bottom lip, considering what to do next. This wasn’t news you shared in a text, but I also didn’t want to give him the wrong idea by meeting in person. So I pressed the call button.
After a few rings, his voice came over the phone just like I remembered it. Smooth, low, a little rough. “Hey, baby,” he said.
My lips twitched for half a second before I remembered why I was calling. “Hey, I have something to tell you,” I said. It sounded like a stranger’s voice coming out of my mouth. Never mind the fact that he was a practical stranger. He still hadn’t offered his name.
“What’s that?” His tone cooled a bit. He seemed more skeptical now.
Turns out, there’s no right way to tell someone you don’t really know that you’re pregnant with their baby. Even after wracking my brain for the right words, I came up empty.
“Hello?” he mumbled.
“I’m pregnant.”
The line went silent. I pulled the phone away from my ear to see if he’d hung up. But the seconds ticked by right before my eyes.
“Hello?” I said.
“Get rid of it,” he told me. His voice was ice cold and so forceful that I flinched.
“I can’t ‘get rid of it,’ even if I wanted to. I’m five months along.” My voice was shaking, right along with my hands.
“I have a contact. We’ll get it taken care of. Are you free now?”
I stared at the phone in shock. But something else was rising up in me too: indignation. Who was he to tell me what to do with my baby? With my body? “I don’t think you heard me. I’m keeping my baby.”
“I’ll pay you,” he rushed out, his cool facade breaking.
“What?” I sputtered. “You’re kidding me.”
“I would never joke about this.” His voice confirmed that.
My eyebrows pinched together, and my stomach soured. There was only one reason someone would want so badly for a baby to go away. “Are you married?” The disgust was clear in my tone.
“That’s none of your concern,” he spat back so venomously I half expected my phone to sizzle in my hand.
“Wow. Don’t worry, I don’t want my daughter anywhere near someone like you.” I hung up the phone, shaking with rage. Hot tears burned in my eyes to match.
When he tried to call back, I ignored it.
And then he texted me again.
Unknown number: Please. I’ll do anything.
Angry tears slipped down my cheeks and wouldn’t stop.
I hadn’t expected him to respond well, or even at all. But I definitely hadn't expected this.
My angry tears quickly turned to bitter sadness for my daughter, because when she asked about her dad, I could never tell her that the first thing he did when he learned of her was beg for me to make her go away.