“It’s easy to say that from a distance,” he responded.
“Were you uncomfortable with Mike there?”
“No. But he’s been through this, he knows the deal.”
“Will does, too, doesn’t he? Would you be willing to see him?”
“Will?” He thought for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to see him.”
“Fine,” I said, a little disappointed. “I’ll tell him to go see you tomorrow when class is over. I charge for messenger service, though. You can pay me when you get out.”
He laughed, and despite everything, I felt myself calm down. This was the most relaxed I’d heard him in ages. He asked how things were, how my classes were going. And finally, I got to tell him everything that had happened in his absence. It’s not that it was much, but when you’re crazy about someone, you need to share those things with them. He listened attentively, and when I was done, it hurt to realize the time had come tohang up. I hated thinking of him being there by himself. If only he were a little closer, I thought. I knew I wasn’t supposed to visit, but if I could even walk past his window, it would have been a small consolation.
True to his word, Will went to see him the next day. Naya made good on her threat to bake him cupcakes, which were basically chocolate-flavored charcoal briquettes covered with a red icing Sue said looked like congealed blood. There was no way anyone ate them, but Will brought the Tupperware back empty and told her they’d shared them with the other patients and everyone had said they were delicious.
I admit it: I felt left out. Will and Mike could go see him, but I couldn’t? I was trying to be understanding. I swear I was. But when insecurity struck, it was hard not to think Jack was slighting me.
More weeks passed, I lost myself in my routine, went back to jogging in the mornings, even talked to my parents now and then. They wanted to get close to me again, but they wouldn’t say sorry. And I wasn’t ready to let them off the hook. Our conversations were uncomfortable, but at least they were something. I remember one call in particular because I was walking into the apartment when it happened, and I found chaos: shoes on the floor, clothes thrown all over, and Sue beating on the bathroom door telling Naya to come out.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, “I gotta go. I’ll call you again soon.” As I hung up, Sue kicked the door and shouted, “Open up, dammit! I need to piss.”
“No,” Naya responded. “Leave me alone!”
I was worried they might come to blows. Sue looked enraged, and Naya was screaming like a banshee. I asked what the hell was going on. Sue spun around, knees touching and one hand stuffed between her legs, and said, “If she doesn’t come out now, I’m going into her room and pissing all over her carpet!”
It was clearly an emergency. I knocked softly, asking Naya if anything was wrong.
“No! Just leave me be!”
I heard her sniffle, and her little feet were pacing back and forth. In our good cop, bad cop act, I tried to play soft, telling Naya that whatever had happened, it would be OK, we’d understand. In the meanwhile, Sue’s threats got more and more violent and demented.
Finally, Naya said, “I’m not sure if I should tell you.”
“Naya, it’s better to let it out than suffer alone in silence.”
That convinced her, and she opened the door. We found her sitting on the toilet in a pink party dress with her mascara running down her face. She must have been crying all day. I instinctively hugged her, but Sue shattered the moment when she screamed, “MOVE, DAMMIT!”
I guess privacy didn’t matter much to her. She shoved us aside, jerked down her pants, and sat down as Naya started weeping again.
“What is it, Naya?” I asked. I was torn between the worry that something awful had happened and the awkwardness of hearing Sue’s piss streaming out right there next to us. As Sue blushed for what I assume was the first time in her life, resting her face in her palm and explaining, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t hold it any longer,” I suddenly knew what was wrong with Naya. Could it be? I froze, and she saw in my eyes that I’d grasped the situation. If it was possible to cry any harder, then she did.
“Naya, are you…pregnant?” I asked.
In response, she handed me a white-and-pink plastic stick with a wadded-up sheet of instructions. “I think so,” she said, “and I’m scared.” Sue stood and pulled up her pants in silence. I think even she realized this was no time for sarcastic remarks. Naya was destroyed. Unsure what to do, I pulled her head close to mine as Sue grabbed the instructions from me and read them closely. The two lines on the test were plain as day. But maybe that meantnegativeon some brands?
I didn’t know, but I tried to reassure her. “You know, these things aren’t always right.”
“They’re 99 percent accurate,” Naya sobbed. “I just looked it up on my phone.”
“Still, we should do another,” I said. “You can never be too sure, right? This is a big deal, no need to jump to conclusions.”
But after two trips to the pharmacy and several more tests, all with the same result, it was time to jump to conclusions. Naya was shattered. I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat there rubbing her back while Sue, on the floor, took charge of the Kleenex, passing her another one every time she needed to wipe her tears or blow her nose.
“My life’s over!” Naya moaned.
“Come on, let’s think,” I said. “I know it seems like a big deal now, but…”
“Itisa big deal, Jenna!” Naya screamed.
