Guilty of Love

Durham, North Carolina

“Larry,” a trembling voice whispered into the phone, “I’m pregnant.”
Gripping the receiver, Cheney Reynolds sniffed back tears. She waited and waited—for soothing words of comfort, shouts of jubilation, or any response from her boyfriend. Instead, silence ensued. Seconds dragged into minutes.
A boom of laughter exploded in the hall outside her dorm, startling Cheney. High-pitched voices consumed with gaiety seemed to belittle her predicament. Fellow Duke University students were making plans for a night of partying. Cheney had to think beyond tonight. Somehow, she had lost focus and allowed her promising, secure future to be in the hands of one man.
Larry Thimes exhaled a restless breath through the phone before speaking as if his teeth were glued together. His words measured, his tone stiff, like the ugly all-season brown curtains hanging at her dorm window.
“Then you know what must be done,” he responded in a clipped tone.
“No. What?”
“Get rid of it.”
“Just like that? No discussion?” Cheney shut her eyes as darkness invaded her mind. “But—” She tasted the bile racing up her throat. “Oh, my God, no. You can’t mean that.” The room began to spin. She closed her eyes, but the dizziness was already set in motion. This wasn’t suppose to happen. She and Larry had practiced safe sex. Now she wondered if the phrase was a misnomer.
“Sweetheart,” Larry said as if talking to a child, “you’re scheduled to graduate next semester, remember?”
“I know, but—”
“You’re enrolling in Duke’s Global Executive MBA program. Plus, I’m completing my J.D. and will be busy studying for the bar.”
“Maybe—”
“I can’t even support myself. Sorry, a baby isn’t an option for us right now.”
Stress deepened the lines in Cheney’s forehead. What Larry said was true. In addition, Cheney did want to be married before she had a baby. At least that’s what society deemed acceptable. Cheney didn’t think about etiquette when she was with Larry. What would her parents say about her pregnancy? Her mother would faint from the thought of embarrassment. Her philosophical father would gather his thoughts before advising her of his disappointment. Her older sister, Janae, would be shocked, and her twin brother—he would be ecstatic. Rainey always loved children.
Sifting through her situation for the third time that day, Cheney had to concur with Larry. A pregnancy wasn’t in their plans. After all, she had won a four-year scholarship. I can’t just throw it all away. She was an educated, up-and-coming professional, but her heart pounded against her chest, refusing to comply. “Larry, maybe we should think about this. There has to be another way.”
“No, Love. There isn’t.”
She gnawed on her fist, crying. Larry was the calm, reasonable and decision-maker in their relationship. He was the strong black man every sistah craved and every woman would endure drastic measures to keep. His charm opened doors for him as if he were royalty. He had showed her how to love and was now the father of her child. Larry mocked her when he didn’t hesitate to say, “kill it.” No, it was like a slap in the face from her lover.
A collage of their romantic moments played in Cheney’s mind. She sighed, visualizing Larry’s long, dark-chocolate fingers outlining her lips when she smiled or right before he smothered them with kisses.
Cheney remembered the night they shared their first slow dance at a campus fraternity party at the end of her freshmen year. At that magical moment, she wanted to be with Larry for the rest of her life. At the end of her sophomore year, she had shared her entire being with the self-confident, look-twice-handsome and sensitive Larry Thimes. I could use some sensitivity right now, she pleaded silently. Didn’t Larry realize how much in love she was with him? Their souls had connected in passionate lovemaking that had produced a little miracle. A baby, their baby. Cheney shook her head in disbelief. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. “Larry—”
“Cheney. There’s no point to keep discussing this.”
“There is no discussion. You’re dictating to me.”
"We’ll have another child later,” he consoled before snapping, “How could you’ve been so stupid and allowed this to happen anyway?”
“Me?”
Did he just blame me? Larry’s harshness caused Cheney’s head to pound. Her heart ached as her stomach contracted. Suddenly, her prenatal, P-M-S, post-menopause, and any other hormones that scientists had yet to identify kicked in. I am not the one to mess with, she shouted inwardly. She couldn’t talk anymore, much less breathe. Without a goodbye, she slammed the phone down.
It had taken Cheney seven days to accept the fact that she was a pregnant, unmarried college student. Larry only needed five seconds to give a responding, “no.” At least she had juggled the idea of motherhood versus a career, and the sacrifice they would have to make.
“Why couldn’t he say, ‘A baby? Honey, that’s wonderful, or ‘What do you want to do?’ or ‘We can get married now or later’,” she fussed to no one. Instead, Larry had failed the ultimate test. Sitting still on her narrow twin bed, Cheney listened as water dripped from a corner sink and voices shouted in her head.
The boisterous women had moved inside to the adjoining suite connected by a small bathroom. Mentally tormented, Cheney collapsed against the wall, rubbing her belly. The phone rung, but it was her prerogative to ignore it.
She couldn’t stand Larry’s name at the moment. “I sure don’t want to hear your voice,” Cheney said, needing time to think and pray. She sobbed instead.
As an hour ticked by, Cheney’s swollen eyes half-registered the room’s blackness. To wake up from a bad dream, she forced her body to the sink and patted cold water on her numbed, red face. She sighed at her tousled reflection. “I’m pregnant.” Cheney yanked her long, black hair as if she was about to extricate weeds from a manicured lawn. “Career or motherhood, what am I going to do? God, if I ever needed you, it’s now.”