Juicy

  “Juice?” He hurried into the spare room, the one that had been used to do her customer’s hair. It was the same as they’d left it. Then he checked her bedroom. The room smelled. There was old food containers, plates with old dried up food on it, the bed even had food on it. He had never seen this apartment in disarray. Juicy prided herself on being neat and clean.

  Troy took a step to the phone and felt his head spin. “Shit!” Not now! He clapped his hand loudly. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you black out! Don’t! You are not going to…to…” He sighed and his face went slack. His eyes went glassy as he stared unseeing into the distance.

  Less than a minute later he took a stumbling step forward. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was and what he’d been doing. Something was badly wrong but he couldn’t—JUICY! He reached for the phone and dialed the shop but when he put the phone to his ear he heard nothing. He looked down and saw that it had been unplugged. He reached down and quickly plugged the end into the receptacle. She had unplugged the phone…

  He began to panic and pace as he dialed the number to the shop.

  It rang impossibly long before someone answered. “Hello, Juicy’s house of hair. How can-”

  “Let me speak to Juicy!” His words came out all run together.

  “Huh?” came the voice. “Is this Candyman?”

  “Yes! Where’s Juicy?”

  “Juicy ain’t here. She ain’t been here in almost two weeks and she don’t answer her phone. Look, Troy, I don’t mind-”

  “What?!”

  Ebonique got quiet. “Troy? Didn’t you know?”

  He ran his hand through his hair, his face falling. “Well…where is she?”

  “Well I don’t know…I assumed she was at home on bedrest. She asked me to watch the shop because she’s sick. She’s got some disease or-”

  “DISEASE?!” He started panting and dots were forming in front of his eyes. Not happening! Not again! He stomped his feet and kept pacing to fight off another bout of unconsciousness. “What do you mean, disease?!”

  “Okay! Don’t yell at me!”

  “I’m sorry Eboni, but-”

  “She got something called Fre-erasia, or…something like that.”

  Fre-erasia? He repeated the word over and over trying to understand it.

  “Look, Candyman, Juicy’s customers keep calling here asking for her and cussing us out. She going to lose her customer’s if she ain’t careful.”

  “Uh…I’ll call you back later.” He sat down on the couch, flopping down more than sitting down. “Fre-erasia.” He looked around suddenly, than he tore through the apartment searching for some paperwork. If she was sick then there had to be something…an invoice, something. This is why the bedroom looked as it did. She was supposed to be on bed rest—and he hadn’t been here. She had been sick and he hadn’t been here!

  Then he found what he was looking for in the kitchen on the cluttered counter. There was an appointment card that said Weds. May 23 5pm. Dr. Luenenberger. Tri Health Associates. He checked the clock. It was five til six. She was at the doctor’s then. He relaxed a little. Then he went to the phone again and dialed the number on the card.

  “H-he-hello. I-I’m tr-trying toooo…” He took a deep breath and calmed down. “…trying to get in t-touch with my g-girlfriend. Her name is Juicy Robinson and she has an appointment t-today.”

  “Oh, Miss Robinson, you just missed her. I checked her out myself.”

  “Oh…ok.” He was just getting ready to hang up when he remembered. “Oh! Can I ask you a question?”

  “Okay.” She said in a guarded voice.

  “Is there a disease called fre-erasia?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Thanks.” He hung up. He looked at the clock once again and then checked the fridge. She’d been shopping. Good, he would do what he did best.

  ***

  Juicy walked up the apartment stairs, stopping once to rest. She was so tired. It wasn’t the fact that she carried a bag filled with oranges, apples, bananas some more of that grotesque raw spinach, romaine lettuce, roma tomatoes and ranch dressing. She was just tired all of the time now. She wanted to get into the house, step out of her clothes, make a quick salad and then climb into bed and lay down. That should make Dr. Lueneneberger happy. He was always harping on her blood pressure and staying off her feet. But how did he expect her to get to his office every three days if she was really off her feet? He wasn’t offering to make a house call!

  She slipped the key into the lock and opened the door kicking it closed behind her. She stepped out of her shoes and was half way to the kitchen before she heard his quiet voice.

  “Juice?” She jumped. Troy was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She blinked and looked around, coming out of a fog. The apartment had been cleaned and was that the aroma of roast beef coming from the oven?

  He came forward and nervously swept back his hair. He needed another cut, it was back to falling into his eyes.

  “You haven’t been to the shop in days-” he began.

  “How would you know?”

  He studied her listless expression. “Right.” He quickly took the bag from her arms and carried it to the kitchen. Juicy didn’t respond, didn’t really seem to care. He looked back at her, unnerved by the blank expression on her face. “I called the shop when I couldn’t get you here.” Juicy moved to the kitchen with him, but went directly to the fridge and got a bottled water. She didn’t seem to be listening. He absently started unpacking the bag.

  “I’ve been calling and calling; both your cell as well as the home phone…but I didn’t realize that you’d unplugged it.” She shrugged. “So I plugged it back in and called the shop. Eboni told me that you were home sick and no one’s been able to reach you and well…I waited.” He looked around, “and cleaned.” He looked at her belly and wanted to touch it, to touch her. But not when she looked like she’d rather him leave then be here.

  “What’s wrong with you Juice? Is the baby okay?”

  Her expression frosted over. “No…You don’t get to ask me that! You don’t get to just walk back in here after two weeks, then ask me questions!” She slammed the half filled bottle onto the breakfast bar.

  He was nodding his head in complete acceptance of her words. “I checked myself into a mental hospital; seventy-two hour hold. It’s what I told you in my messages.” She watched him without the slightest inkling of interest. “You didn’t even listen to even one of them, did you?” He couldn’t even pretend to hide the disappointment on his face.

  She sucked in an annoyed breath and walked into the bedroom where she stripped out of her clothes, letting them drop to the floor. He followed feeling his disappointment turn into annoyance. He’d been doing all of this for her; her and the baby. But she didn’t give a damn about anything but her own anger.

  “Jeez…thanks a lot, Juicy, because for once I really needed you!”

  She slipped on oversized athletic shorts and a t-shirt that stretched over the round of her belly. “Then you should have been here instead of running off to your Momma and Daddy. When shit gets tough, that’s what you’re going to do.” She climbed into the freshly made bed without commenting on how clean everything now was.

  He scratched his head and watched her. “There is so much that I wanted…I wanted to tell you. But I know you don’t want to hear it. Maybe you’re right and I shouldn’t have gone to my parents to help me. But what I needed from them, you wouldn’t have been able to do for me, because what I needed was to be a better son.”

  She suddenly sat up in bed. “Troy! You left me when I told you that I was pregnant. You walked out the door and went to another flippin’ state! You’ve only just now come back—TWO ENTIRE WEEKS LATER! You can tell me all of the stories that you want as to why you left and why it took you two weeks to come back, but all I know is that I am here and you are there and it was you that walked out and not me! So, I’m not going to fall for your sob story! You are a bastard
! You can walk out on me and use your ILLNESS as an excuse. I thought that I could trust you…then you just left! Just like everybody else. I’m not EVER going to depend on you, Troy. I’m never going to trust you! So, let me make this clear; I don’t give a shit what you do, or what you say!” His face had turned white as he stared at the screaming pregnant woman.

  She got out of the bed still glaring at him. “Want to know ‘how I’m doing?’ I’m flipping doing wonderful, thank you very much.” She put her hands on her hips as she spoke sarcastically. “I have gestational high blood pressure. Every time I get angry, upset, worried then my blood pressure spikes—and so does the baby’s. If I get sick, she gets sick-- and yes; she. She’s a girl. My blood pressure is so high right now that my doctor wants to take the baby but he can’t, because even though the pre-eclampsia made her bigger her lungs are dangerously under developed. So guess what I have to do? I have to lie in that bed so that I can save me and my baby’s life! In case I didn’t say it; thank you for cleaning, thank you for making dinner! But no matter what you do, I will never let you back into my heart again; EVER!”

  Troy’s mouth was a thin line in his very pale face. She knew it was a migraine; knew the signs but didn’t say anything more. Pain like nothing he’d ever before felt encased his heart, not his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three bottles of pills. He placed them on the dresser. When he spoke his voice was barely above a whisper.

  “I’m going to take these everyday for the rest of my life, so that my child won’t ever say what you just said to me.” Troy left the room and Juicy lay there trying to catch her breath and waiting for her heart to stop drumming in her chest. She felt the sweat beading on her forehead and pushed back her angry tears.

  She heard noise in the kitchen, cabinets opening, oven door and a few moments later Troy returned to the bedroom carrying a tray containing a plate piled high with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, the fresh green beans that she’d bought earlier in the week but had been too lazy to cook, as well as cornbread made with white cornmeal instead of the yellow that everyone else seemed to use.

  He placed the tray on the bed without looking at her. “I don’t know much about gestational…what you said, but if this food isn’t healthy I’ll do some research at the library and cook healthier.” He left the room without looking at her. Juicy picked up the tray and began to eat. It was good. Tears splashed from her eyes as she looked at the blurred plate.

  Later he returned and picked up the tray with the half eaten food. She was lying on her side but not able to sleep.

  “Do you want to see a picture of her?” His light gray eyes met her dark ones. The strain around both of their eyes began to relax. “In my purse is an ultrasound picture.” Troy left the tray on the bed and rushed into the living room where her purse sat on the cocktail table.

  He had never gone through her purse before, but this time he did so without thought, shoving things aside until he saw several folded ultra sound prints. His breath came out in a gust. He stared at them while sinking to the couch. His hands trembled and his face suddenly broke as tears slid down his cheeks. He stared at his daughter. His daughter.

  Juicy had slipped out of bed and was standing in the bedroom door watching him. Overcome with emotion he silently sobbed while he stared at the pictures, murmuring something that sounded like, “...I’ll die….”

  She’d seen Troy in so many ways, funny, strong, fearless, scared…but never completely broken. The tight anger that had gripped her soul began to loosen. She wasn’t ready to let it go, but she couldn’t help but be affected by his weeping. But what was he saying?

  “What?” Juicy ambled over to him. “What did you say?”

  He looked at her with red eyes. “Magnus was right. I’ll die without you and my daughter. You’re all I’m living for right now.” He choked on a sob and stared back at the picture.

  She felt hot and cold all at once as she stared down at the young man who had warded off a group of thug attackers for her, who had carried her to the hospital and who had sat with her for days on end even though she was just a stranger.

  The tight band disappeared. “Who is Magnus?”

  His eyes moved from the picture to her. “Magnus is a girl that was in seventy-two hour hold.”

  “Oh.” She moved forward until she was standing directly in front of her. “Tell me about her.”

  He paused, staring at her. Juicy held out her hand. “Tell me about Magnus and seventy-two hour hold and being a good son and everything.”

  He nodded and placed the picture of his daughter on the cocktail table. Then he stood up slowly and gave her his hand. She led him into the bedroom where she carefully climbed into bed watching him as she curled up comfortably under the covers. He took the tray of food back to the kitchen and when he returned to the bedroom he stood by the bed and watched her momentarily before sliding off his pants and shirt, sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks. When he was down to his boxers he slid into bed and stared deeply into her eyes. She thought of that phrase, ‘bump’ in the road. They’d just had that and had walked around it and continued, yet the bump was still there.

  He reached out tentatively and placed his hand on her belly. Only then did his face lose the last of its tension. Juicy placed her hand over his. Maybe they would one day forget about that bump…

  “Magnus is a girl that makes a hobby out of attempted suicide…” Troy began. He talked slowly at first, carefully reciting the events of seventy-two hour hold, but as the night moved on, his voice returned to the one that Juicy recognized; filled with animation and excitement. He was grinning when he revealed that he didn’t have a diagnosis of mental illness.

  Juicy sat up on her elbows, eyes wide. “What? You’re not mentally ill?”

  He gave her a wry grin. “Wow…don’t sound so surprised.”

  She chuckled and lay back down. “No, I just-”

  “Evidently having crazy ideas doesn’t actually make you crazy.”

  “I guess I’m the only ‘crazy’ in the family, then.” Her brow creased and he watched her silently.

  “Get some rest, love. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “Wait, I want to know about the medicine.”

  “It makes me sick. But in the long run it will make me better.” He said simply. “Turn around Juicy.”

  “Huh?” He made a circle motion with his hands and she turned to face away from him. She felt his hand slide across her swollen belly and his body spoon against her back. She sighed in pleasure and her eyes began to droop.

  “I love you, Juice.” He kissed the back of her neck, and buried his face into her golden dredlocks where he began to drift off to sleep to the smell of her hair conditioner and the shea butter that she rubbed on her skin.

  “Love you…” she murmured.

  CHAPTER 18

  Troy woke up before Juicy. He looked around for the alarm clock but didn’t see it. Then he showered and shaved, took his medicine and made breakfast of hard boiled eggs, bran muffins and tea. He wrote a quick note to her letting her know that he had gone to the library and would be back by noon. He set her food on the tray beside her bed and kissed her goodbye. Then he leaned down and placed his lips on her belly.

  There were libraries all over Cincinnati but he went to the main branch downtown. He stopped in a drugstore first and bought a pay by the minute cell phone. There was no way that he wanted Juicy to need to get in touch with him and not be able to. At the library he logged into one of the computers. He did research on pre-eclampsia. Juicy was overweight, she had a bad diet and she hadn’t received any prenatal care until late in her pregnancy.