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She gives me an indignant look. “For Paris, who else? I mean, how could she be so careless, getting pregnant by some stray man?”
“Umm, I guess she got pregnant the same way you did when you screwed—”
“This isn’t about me,” she snaps, cutting me off. “Yes, I went off and fucked Brandon and his cousin. And I’ve apologized for that. I was fourteen and reckless. I can’t believe you’d bring that up after all this time. And that situation was totally different than Paris’s.”
Brandon was a boy I dated my freshman year in high school. But unbeknownst to me, he was Persia’s, too. They had been fucking for almost six months before I found out. One night, he asked her if his nineteen-year-old cousin, who was visiting for the summer, could watch the two of them fuck, then join in. She let him. And not only did she end up not knowing which one had gotten her pregnant, she ended up with gonorrhea as well.
“Look, I didn’t mean to bring that up; wrong example. What I meant was we’ve all been careless at one time or another. Paris is a grown woman. And if she wants to keep this baby, then she should. And we should be there to help her through this. Not whispering behind her back, conspiring how to convince her to get rid of it.”
She shoots me an incredulous look. “So you’re actually telling me that you’re okay with this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? She’s our sister. I love her. And I respect her decision to know what she’s doing. You should do the same.”
“She’s making a big mistake.”
“Then it’s one you don’t have to live with,” I remind her. “So let it go.”
“Let what go?” Paris asks, walking into the kitchen. Persia and I look in her direction.
“The fact that you’re pregnant,” I say, glancing at Persia. “Persia thinks you should have an abortion.”
Paris shakes her head, opening the refrigerator. “And how do you feel about it?”
“I’m going to love you no matter what you decide to do. And I’m going to love my little niece or nephew as if it were my own. Although, I hate to say, I’m so glad it’s you pregnant and not me.”
She shuffles over to the table, biting into an apple. I’m shocked at how big her stomach looks this morning. “I’m almost at the end of my first trimester. I’m not having an abortion; period. Yes, I made a mistake by not using a condom with Desmond. I was aware of what I was doing—living on the edge. But, this baby inside of me will not be born a mistake. I’m thankful I don’t have HIV or some other disease.” She eyes Persia. “Please, save your breath. You’re going to be an aunt, so get used to it.”
“Fine,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “When are you going to tell our parents?”
“Yeah, and what are you going to tell them?” I ask.
She sighs. “I really haven’t thought about it. I’ll tell them after Pasha’s wedding next week.”
“Umm,” I say, pointing in the direction of her protruding baby knot. “Do you think you’re going to be able to hide it?”
She looks at her stomach, pushing it out, then holding it in. “I’ll wear a girdle and eat very light,” she says, laughing at first, then busting out into tears. “I don’t know what the hell I’m getting myself into. How does a man go from calling you every day, wanting to see you and sex you, to not calling you at all? No, ‘I’m not interested,’ no ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ nothing. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
I get up from my seat. “Girl, you know we’re here for you.” I look over at Persia. “Aren’t we, Persia?”
“Of course we are. If he could disappear like that without a word, then obviously he was no good for you. If anything, he did you a favor.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Paris says, wiping her face with her napkin. She blows her nose. “It’s still mindboggling, though. Niggas. He really seemed different.”
“Obviously he wasn’t,” Persia says dismissively. “Sounds like he was a no-good, lying-ass nigga.” I eye her. And she eyes me back. I can’t put my finger on it, but, for some reason, Persia seems very uneasy about this whole pregnancy thing. “Who knows how many other women he’s done this to. I say good riddance to his ass.”
Paris sighs, wiping her face. She pats me on the hand. “Thanks. I’m a big girl, and I’m going to be okay. But, right now, I’m scared to death, bringing a baby into this world by myself, then having to raise it.”
“Girl, plenty of women do it,” I offer. “Men walk out and leave women to raise their kids every day by themselves. You’re going to be fine. And you’ll be a great mother.”
“Thanks. I can do it. What bothers me the most is that he doesn’t even know about it. If he walked out on me because of that, then I could swallow his disappearing act better. But, he stopped all communication without any warning. That’s what I have difficulty with. If I ever run into him again, I’m going to slap the shit out of him.”
Persia reaches over and grabs Paris’s hand. “And this is why I really think you should reconsider having this baby. All it’s going to be is a constant reminder of how fucked up he was. How he changed up on you. Every time you look at that baby, you’re going to see that no-good nigga and start resenting it.”
Paris shakes her head, rubbing her stomach. “I’m not doing it. This baby is going to be loved. And when he or she is old enough to understand, I’ll tell them the truth. That he didn’t know about them. That I love them in spite of not knowing their father.”
“Well, that settles it,” I say. “We need to start converting one of our bedrooms into a nursery. But, first, boo, you’re going to need to buy a new dress for the wedding because I don’t think you’re going to be able to fit that little sexy number.”
She laughs. “Oh, trust me. I’ll stuff my ass into that thing, even if I have to wear a corset over a girdle. Come hell or high water, that dress is going to be worn.”
