Two Steps Back Read online

“Yes, but not for long.”

  “We shouldn’t rush into anything, Johnny. The timing couldn’t be worse. We’ve only been together a few months, I just got a job, and—”

  “Things don’t always go according to plan, Jaylah. But we can make it work.”

  “How do you know? It didn’t work with your wife.”

  “Can you stop saying that? This is totally different.”

  “How? You guys got married because she was pregnant. How is this any different?”

  “Because I want to be with you, Jaylah,” he said, exhaustion creeping into his voice. “Can’t you see I’m crazy about you? I want to build a life with you, and I want to marry you.”

  “Because I’m pregnant.”

  “Because I love you.”

  Jaylah rubbed her temples and let Johnny’s words hang in the air. She knew he loved her, knew that he meant well, but was that enough? Could love sustain them through a pregnancy, his divorce, and whatever else that would come their way?

  She appreciated his sense of duty, but she wasn’t convinced that they were the exception—the couple who could overcome a troubled start and crazy drama to live happily ever after.

  “Are you still there?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m here. I don’t know what to do, Johnny. And I’m tired of trying to figure it out.”

  “I know, babes, I know. But things will work out, I promise. Just…” he hesitated, “please don’t kill our baby, Jaylah. Please. Not after today.”

  Jaylah put her clothes on in silence and tried the process the last 15 minutes of her life. She walked into the doctor’s office intent on ridding herself of the blob, but now it was a baby, her baby.

  “Did you hear what I said, Jaylah? Please don’t kill our baby. We can make this work, I know it.”

  She wasn’t sure they could overcome the odds, but everything within her prayed Johnny was right.

  Four

  Jaylah stood in the middle of her living room and surveyed her former life. The walls she meant to repaint three years ago still lacked the cheerful colors she’d picked out; functional, yet nondescript, furniture dotted the room; and pictures of her family clung to the walls. The whole scene looked appropriate, but impersonal—much like Jaylah’s old life.

  Six months ago she sleepwalked through the days, going from her cubical at the L.A. Weekly to her assignments and back to her couch. Jaylah threw herself into work, never refusing to cover an album release party, concert, or film screening no matter how much she thought she was better suited for weightier assignments, or didn’t want to attend. The result? She grew to hate her job, and her personal life was damn near nonexistent, consisting of very few friends, men she slept with on occasion, and her parents—always her parents—stepping in to fill the gaps.

  Getting fired from the L.A. Weekly felt like a huge slap in the face. After five years of writing about topics she could give a rat’s ass about, Jaylah felt like she’d paid her dues and should have had free reign to cover things she was actually passionate about—the social implications of pop culture, politics, race. Her time at the paper afforded her a comfortable lifestyle and the façade of success, but it didn’t make her happy. Instead, she felt like she was drowning.

  Six months ago Jaylah did not, could not, know that getting fired would be the best thing that ever happened to her, but it had. She became a woman unleashed, no longer burdened by a job she couldn’t stand, a city she felt she’d out grown, and a mother who showed love by controlling her every move.

  Losing her job, leaving L.A., and moving to London had been her chance at liberation. And she grabbed it and ran.

  Jaylah gazed around the room trying to decide what would get boxed and shipped to London and what would be housed in her parents’ garage. She picked up a vase her boss had given her for Christmas and marveled at just how ugly it was with its frosted glass and cobalt blue waves. She moved to put it in the box marked “storage,” but quickly changed her mind. Instead, she went to the balcony, checked to make sure no one was around, and hurled it to the ground.

  A surprising sense of satisfaction spread through her as shards of glass scattered across the driveway. Old Jaylah would have wrapped the vase in paper and stored it away for safe keeping despite hating it. But this new woman, unbound by her former life, wanted it gone. She returned to the living room looking for something else to smash to bits, but realized her things were too well kept to destroy. In that moment, she devised a new plan.

  Jaylah moved through her apartment snapping pictures on her phone and thinking about how much she could get for the items she no longer wanted. There was no need to pay thousands of dollars to ship things to London and no need to hire movers to haul her stuff to her parents’ garage when she knew she would never need them again.

  New Jaylah didn’t want anything from Old Jaylah’s life except for her vast collection of books, the jewelry box and diamond earrings her parents had given her when she turned 13, and her pictures. Everything else could go up for sale.

  Before her old, sensible self could come barging back in, Jaylah called the movers and canceled her appointment, then cracked open her laptop and began placing Craigslist ads for her things.

  I’ll donate whatever doesn’t sell, she thought, already feeling a thousand pounds lighter because of her decision to get rid of the remnants of her former life.

  When she was done cataloging and writing ads, Jaylah surveyed her apartment with fresh eyes. For once she didn’t feel instantly depressed by her solemn, unimaginative space; she felt hopeful.

  Her rebirth had actually happened; it wasn’t a fluke. Her move to London hadn’t been some sort of apparition; it was real. And she was determined to make it work, no matter what.

  Five

  “What time will the movers be at your apartment on Saturday?” Mrs. Baldwin asked when Jaylah returned home after spending the balance of the day listing her things for sale.

  “Oh, they’re not coming. I changed my mind.”

  “About moving? Thank goodness! I was hoping you’d stay here instead of running back to London like some teenager.”

  Jaylah took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She knew her mother would not take kindly to her new plan, but she didn’t care.

  “I’m going back to London, mom. I just decided to sell my things instead of storing them. I don’t really need them anyway.”

  “Sell your things?” Mrs. Baldwin huffed. “I thought you were keeping them here? You don’t even know if this whole London thing is permanent.”

  “It is,” Jaylah said, keeping her voice even.

  “And what happens if you want to move back, or if you need to come home?”

  “Then I’ll come home,” she said, staring directly at her mother. “Daddy likes to park in the garage anyway. My stuff wouldn’t be doing anything but taking up space. And I don’t need it.”

  Mrs. Baldwin sucked her teeth and looked to her husband for backup. He was reading a book in the corner of the room, trying to stay out of his wife and daughter’s disagreement—as usual.

  “Jay Jay, I know you think going back to London is a good idea, but your father and I were talking about it, and we think you should stay here. I mean, who’s going to help you with the baby?”

  Who says there’ll be a damn baby?! Jaylah wanted to yell, but decided against it.

  “Mom, I know you and dad want the best for me, but I’m a grown up, okay? I have a job there. I have friends. I’ll be fine.” She softened her tone. “And you’re always welcome to come visit.”

  “Friends,” Mrs. Baldwin spat, “don’t help you raise babies.”

  “If I decide to have this baby I will have all the help I need, mom.”

  “If?” Mrs. Baldwin asked, glaring at her daughter. “You’re still talking about if?”

  “Yes, if.”

  Jaylah’s mother opened her mouth to respond, but decided against it. Instead, she called on her husband before leaving. “Joe, please talk some sense into
your daughter.”

  Mr. Baldwin put his book down and crossed the room to sit on the couch with Jaylah. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut close to his scalp, and his almond-shaped eyes, the ones he’d given Jaylah, crinkled as he smiled.

  “You know we just want the best for you, baby girl,” he said, patting her on the leg.

  “I know, daddy. But mom still treats me like a child. You should have seen her carrying on at the doctor’s office like I was some unfortunate teen mom.”

  “I can imagine,” he chuckled, “but this is important stuff. It’s not quite happening how we wanted, you know. Your mom and I always thought we’d be walking you down the aisle before you had a baby, but things happen. We just want to make sure you’re alright.”

  “I am, daddy. I’m just not letting anyone pressure me into motherhood.”

  “You got that from me,” he smiled. “I can be kinda stubborn, too.”

  Jaylah stared into her father’s face and saw her own. Their high cheekbones from her Coushatta great-grandmother, their umber skin that glowed red in the summer, their long, fluid frames. She was definitely her father’s child, and for that, she was thankful.

  “Daddy, I know you and mom want me to have this baby, but I feel like my life is just now starting to get on track. Having a baby would totally interrupt it.”

  “I understand, baby girl,” he said comforting her with his words.

  “How can you? You and mom did it the right way,” Jaylah said using air quotes.

  Her father hesitated, gazing into his daughter’s face before speaking. “I know it seems like that, but things are never simple. Now, your mama and me were always sweet on each other. We grew up together and lived on the same street, but didn’t start dating until we both ended up at Howard.”

  “I know. I’ve heard this story a million times. You saw each other at a party and have been inseparable ever since.”

  “Yeah, well, sorta. But baby, you were a bit of a surprise.”

  “A surprise? You guys got married in your senior year and I was born after graduation. How surprising is that? Mom always says she wanted to graduate with her B.A. and her M.R.S.”

  Mr. Baldwin chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, we were planning on getting married, just not so soon. But your mother found out she was pregnant with you, and—“

  “You got married because mom was pregnant?!”

  Jaylah couldn’t imagine her mother getting knocked up before walking down the aisle. All of the talks about sex her mom had doled out over the years. All of the warnings and the lectures about waiting until she was married before giving away “her precious gift” came flooding back into Jaylah’s brain. If she had ever stopped to do the math—her parents wedding anniversary falling in November, her birthday in June—she would have known something was up. But she didn’t. She never had a reason to question her mother’s words.

  “Baby girl, we got married because we loved each other. You just moved up the timeline a bit.”

  Jaylah sat stunned. First Johnny had rushed into marrying his wife because she was carrying his child, now this. Was she just falling into some sort of fucked up family cycle—first comes unexpected pregnancy, then marriage?

  “Were you scared, dad? Were you worried you were making a huge mistake by getting married because mom was pregnant?”

  “Of course I was scared. But we loved each other and had been planning to get married anyway. I just didn’t expect to be a dad so early. We wanted to be married for a few years, travel first, see the world. But it worked out,” he said, giving Jaylah’s hand a squeeze.

  She replayed her life looking for signs her parents only stayed together for her sake. She rarely heard them argue, and they took vacations to Florida or Jamaica or down South every summer.

  When she was little, Jaylah would love watching her parents dance to old Motown tunes in the middle of the living room. They’d look so happy, her dad doing his best two-step, and her mom twirling like a teenage girl. It had been good, right? They seemed to make the right choice.

  “So…” Jaylah hesitated, “if you could do it all over again you wouldn’t change anything?”

  “Of course not. I love you and your mother. Being your dad is the best thing that ever happened to me, baby girl,” he said as his eyes, Jaylah’s eyes, slanted upward as he smiled. “I know you’ve got a lot to consider, and I’m here for you either way. But just know things will work out exactly the way they’re supposed to—no matter what.”

  Mr. Baldwin kissed Jaylah on the forehead, then grabbed his book and headed down the hall. She found comfort in her father’s words and hoped he was right.

  “Things will work out exactly the way they’re supposed to,” she said aloud over and over again, hoping it was true.

  Six

  The phone rang, causing Jaylah to awake suddenly. She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the burnt orange light filtering through her curtains and tried to figure out if it was morning or dusk. What time is it? Jaylah thought, as she rummaged through the covers and under her over-stuffed pillows for the phone. She cursed whoever it was who had the nerve to interrupt her sleep; it was such a scare commodity these days. Even though her belly hadn’t exploded into a watermelon, she still couldn’t seem to sleep through the night. Tossing and turning and getting up to pee had become commonplace these past few weeks as the blob—now baby—had taken over her body.

  She located her mobile just in time for the caller to give up. Jaylah checked the time: 6:47 a.m., Saturday.

  “Saturday? What happened to Friday night?” she asked herself, before remembering she’d decided to take a nap after struggling to finish an article the previous evening. Apparently, she had fallen into a coma.

  This baby was not only wreaking havoc on her body, but it was also causing her to lose focus. Writing had once come easy; she would enjoy getting lost researching a topic, and then compiling her thoughts. But since the blob came to town she’d found it difficult to sit still, to think, to write, or to work.

  Sitting in front of the computer now felt akin to torture, her mind getting stuck on what the fuck am I going to do? instead of the task at hand, her column. Hillary, her editor at Glamour, had been accommodating, allowing Jaylah to file articles while she returned to the States to get matters settled before moving back to London. But would she be as accepting of a pregnant writer who couldn’t seem to keep two thoughts, let alone anything poignant, in her head at once?

  Pregnant women have been working for centuries—running companies, writing books, teaching school. Surely Jaylah could pull it off, but she wasn’t sure she even wanted to try.

  “It’s not fair,” she whined to Jourdan during their last conversation. “My life was just starting to get fun. Now this!”

  “Oh get over it, Jay. You’re not the first woman to be up the duff. You’ll survive.”

  “But I don’t want to survive,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I want an extraordinary life.”

  “And you can have that with a baby.”

  “Maybe, but do I have to have it right now? I mean, look at Oprah. Look how awesome her life is and she doesn’t have kids.”

  “She has a billion dollars. She could have 80 kids and her life would still be amazing.”

  “Whatever. I read that she said if she had kids she wouldn’t be who she is today. Can you imagine?”

  “So you want to be Oprah?” Jourdan teased.

  “Don’t you?” Jaylah retorted. “But seriously, I just don’t want to feel like I’m being held back, and babies hold you back.”

  “They can also give you wings, Jay.”

  Jaylah checked her missed call log—Johnny.

  She lay in bed and waited for the drowsiness to subside before returning his call. They hadn’t spoken since her doctor’s appointment, the heartbeat interrupting her plans and confusing things even further.

  He called four times since then, leaving messages and even sending an email, but she hadn’t called him back, too uns
ure of what she would say.

  I love you but maybe not the baby. I’m totally confused. I’m scared out of my mind. You better have moved out or else. I can’t do this alone.

  All of Jaylah’s thoughts seemed so desperate, so weak, so opposite of who she was becoming.

  She dialed Johnny’s number and held her breath. Her stomach lurched when she heard his voice seep into her ear causing her to lose focus and get lost in her uncontrollable longing to be next to him.

  “Hello Mr. Poku,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

  “Hey. Did I wake you?”

  “Of course.” Jaylah snuggled further into her pillows, wrapping her arms around one of them like she would do to Johnny if he were there.

  “Sorry, babes. I tried not to call too early. I took a chance. Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “I’ve been busy. I decided to sell my things instead of ship them to London, so I was handling that. And the time difference makes it hard to connect.”

  “Are you sure that’s it?”

  “What else would it be?” She wanted to add: other than the fact that I have absolutely no clue what to say, and I’m sick of you pressing me for an answer about this baby?

  “I just feel like you’re avoiding me.”

  “Why would I be avoiding you?”

  “I don’t know, which is why I’m asking. Maybe I’m just paranoid, babes. I miss you. I wish I could be there with you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And why aren’t you?”

  “I wasn’t invited.”

  True, Jaylah thought. She hadn’t asked Johnny to come to L.A. with her, afraid he might just take her up on the offer. Can you imagine how her mother would react to her daughter’s married boyfriend who had fathered her child? Chaos would certainly ensue.

  “Well, consider yourself invited,” she said.

  “Seriously? I will get on a plane, Jay. Don’t tempt me.”

  “I’ll see you when you get here.” Jaylah chuckled to keep from sounding too intense, but she was serious, at least partially. She wanted to see him in the worst way, even if she wouldn’t admit it.