Big Girls Drama Page 2

  Dr. Hoffman continued by saying, “You really need to have him come in and get treated for this condition as well.”

  “He’s cheating on me,” I whispered to myself, trying to make sense of this entire situation.

  “Kellie, there is something else.”

  I looked at her like I didn’t want to hear anything else. This news was enough to annihilate me. Even though her face couldn’t be read, the way she spoke was enough for me to understand the next bit of information was not going to be any better. I dropped my head as I reached down and gripped both sides of the examination table as hard as I could. I think I was trying to hold on. Was I trying to hold on so I wouldn’t hit the floor? Was I holding on for hope for better news? Or was I gripping this table so tightly because I felt a rage build within me that I’d never experienced before. Whatever, none of this was good.

  I looked at Dr. Hoffman waiting for her to drop the next misfortune on me. She took this as her cue to proceed.

  “With you being diagnosed with Chlamydia, I suspect you could also have a condition known as PID.”

  I frowned as I asked, “What is PID?”

  The doctor smiled warmly before saying, “I’m sorry for using abbreviations. PID stands for pelvic inflammatory disease. It’s an infection of your female reproductive organs.”

  “Is it serious?” I asked frantically.

  “It can be. This condition could lead to irreversible damage to your uterus, fallopian tubes, and other parts of your female reproductive organs.”

  “So this could be why I have been having this pain?”

  “The pain could stem from this or the fact you have this STD,” she answered. “More likely than not, I think it’s the beginning stages of PID.”

  “You said there could be damage to my female organs. Does this mean it could affect me having children?” I asked fearfully.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  And there was The Catastrophe. I sucked in a breath, shocked at her answer.

  “In many cases, women who get this condition become infertile,” she responded honestly.

  I began to weep. I couldn’t take this news. I’d rather hear my husband was cheating than the fact his deceitful actions could have affected my chances of ever having children.

  My doctor rolled her chair closer to me and began rubbing my leg lovingly.

  “I can’t believe this. I thought my marriage was great, but I guess I was wrong, especially if he’s cheating.”

  “Please understand I’m not saying you have PID, but unfortunately, the signs are there. What I want to do now is do further testing.”

  “I’ll do anything. I want to have children.”

  “Okay. I’ll send you to the lab today to have blood drawn to see if there is evidence of an infection. Then I’ll set up another appointment for you to have an ultrasound done to have your reproductive organs examined. I’ll see if they can get you in as soon as possible. These things will let us know the severity of your condition. Once I have your results, I’ll give you a call to come in for your findings.”

  I nodded, feeling numb to all of this. Jeffrey promised me he wouldn’t cheat on me again. So not only did I have the burden of knowing my husband was back to his old tricks again, I had to deal with the revelation I was infected with an STD that could possibly ruin my chances of ever having children.

  “I’ve sent over a prescription to start treatment for the STD, but please understand, if you continue to sleep with your husband who’s not being treated, then you are taking the medication in vain.”

  Oh, she didn’t have to worry about me ever sleeping with him again. This news was the wake-up call I needed. As much as I wished I’d never come to see my doctor, I knew it was in my best interest to do so, in more ways than one. Just like that, my entire world was ripped from under me again. I never should have trusted him. I should have left when he stepped out on our marriage the first time. Hell, the second and third time! But I loved him enough to give him chance after chance. Shame on me for making such a terrible decision, because now, my choices could have affected my chances of ever having children.

  Vivian

  4

  I found this cute upscale boutique I’d wanted to come to ever since I’d moved here and decided today was the day I should go and see what they had to offer. I wasn’t in the shop five minutes before one of the salespeople approached me.

  “Can I help you?” she asked as I scanned through some clothes.

  “No, thank you,” I answered smiling graciously at the middle-age woman. I thought my answer was enough to make her move on to the next patron, but she continued to linger by me.

  I hoped this was not another moment in my life where racial profiling was taking place. I really didn’t want to be that stereotypical black woman, but if I had to, I would. All I was trying to do was look for something sexy to wear for my husband.

  “Did you need something else?” I questioned with narrowed eyes, hoping she understood I didn’t appreciate she was still standing near me like I was going to steal something.

  “Oh no.”

  She said this, but she still didn’t bother to budge. Now I was getting irritated.

  “Then why are you still hovering over me? I hope you don’t think I’m going to steal anything. I can’t help but notice I’m the only woman you are watching. Is it because I’m the only African American in this establishment?”

  “No, ma’am, but . . .”

  “But what?” I asked in irritation.

  “We . . . we don’t carry many clothes in . . . in . . . your size,” she stuttered.

  No, this bitch didn’t. I gawked at her wondering if she was serious right now. Whether there was one or one hundred pieces of plus-size clothes in the place, I had the right to look. Besides, I could have been looking for something for someone else.

  I turned to face her full-on, linking my fingers together in front of me. I knew if I put my hands on my hips or folded my arms across my ample breasts, I would have probably been labeled the angry black woman. I hated to think this way, but per my experience, this was the exact way it was.

  “And what size is that?”

  Shifting uncomfortably, the woman knew she’d upset me. She cleared her throat as she placed a nervous hand to her chest and replied with, “Plus size, ma’am.”

  “So you are calling me fat?”

  “No, not at all but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “All I was trying to say is this store doesn’t carry many pieces of clothing in your size.”

  It was one thing to come to me thinking I was being racially profiled, but it was another to be insulted about my weight. Hell, I think I would have preferred she thought I was a thief. I was angered by her statement but couldn’t do anything but chuckle.

  “Do you inform all of your plus-size customers of this?”

  “Um . . . Well, no, not all the time. I just thought I would save you some time.”

  “So you want me to leave?” I asked.

  “No, that’s not what I was saying,” she stammered again.

  “So you just do this to black women?”

  “No.”

  “So you do this to white women also?”

  “No. Yes, ma’am.”

  I held my hand up stopping her ignorant banter. All she was doing was stumbling around her words when I knew damn well just like she did that she was coming at me like this because she saw me as a fat black woman who probably couldn’t afford a thing in here. Maybe I was out of line for my thoughts, but this had happened to me way too many times for me to not come to this conclusion.

  “Is your manager here?” I asked.

  “No. She’s at lunch.”

  “Okay, then, I will sit and wait for her to return, if that’s okay with you,” I said smirking at the nervous woman.

  “She just left. I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”

  “That’s okay. I have time to wait,” I said finding a seat next to
the dressing room.

  I smiled flatly and watched as the scrawny brunette woman sauntered in the direction of the checkout counter where another worker was ringing up a customer. She whispered something to the coworker and both looked my way. I waved and both turned away quickly when they noticed I was glaring at them.

  Ten minutes later, a curvy Caucasian woman approached me with a huge smile on her face. She was quite attractive and looked too young to be a manager of this establishment. I looked to my right to see the lady who made the rude comment watching from afar.

  “Hello, my name is Julia, and I’m the manager here,” she graciously greeted as she held her hand out to me. “How can I help you?”

  “Yes, I would like to file a complaint against one of your employees.”

  “Sure. Follow me to my office and we can discuss this matter further,” she said leading the way.

  Miss Julia was not only a curvy woman, she had a behind on her as well. I wasn’t into women, but I admired when a woman carried herself as well as she did.

  We entered a room painted in stark white. It was so white the room looked sterile. I felt like I was waiting for a physician to come in and examine me. There was nothing on the walls, and her desk was in front of a huge window covered with plantation shutters. I did notice some boxes in a corner with items which consisted of some picture frames so maybe she was in the process of decorating this space.

  “Please, have a seat,” she gestured toward the black leather chair across from her, and I sat down.

  “So what happened?”

  “First, this woman stalked me throughout your store like she expected me to steal something. Then when I addressed her, she proceeded to insult me further by informing me this store doesn’t carry many clothes for women my size.”

  The woman’s brows rose at my statement, and she immediately went into apology mode.

  “I am so sorry for that. We do not tolerate such behavior here. And I’m so sincere when I say this. I mean, look at me. I’m not a size two,” she said chuckling.

  “It just gets tiresome dealing with individuals like this woman.”

  “Trust me, I understand.”

  I wanted to ask her how could she. We may have our curves in common, but at the end of the day, I was still a black woman, and she wasn’t.

  “May I ask which employee was rude in this way?”

  “It was the older brunette woman.”

  The woman dropped her head as she shook it before saying, “Meredith.” She inhaled a breath before continuing. “It is not our intention to make any patron who attends my store be addressed and berated in such a manner. She will be dealt with.”

  I was hoping she wasn’t just telling me this to make me feel better. Often in this type of situation, when you returned to these stores, that same ignorant person was still employed and still acting ill-mannered.

  “Thank you for letting me know. I can’t afford to lose business because my employees are not acting according to our policy. All business is welcomed, and I mean that. Meredith is basically out the door. That woman has caused me more business than anybody. The only reason why I’ve kept her on for as long as I have is because she’s my aunt.”

  I chuckled, surprised Julia was even kin to this woman. But you can’t choose your family.

  “Thank you for allowing me to talk with you,” I said, standing. “I really need to get going to find something to wear tonight.”

  “Please feel free to look around,” she stood.

  “Unfortunately, I will be taking my business elsewhere. It’s nothing against you.”

  The woman looked taken aback before asking, “Are you sure, because I would be happy to assist you personally? I have some fabulous new pieces in the back that haven’t hit the floor yet.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And I’ll give you a 25 percent discount on your entire purchase as well.”

  She was really buttering me up to make this purchase. This was unusual. I thought she would have told me she understood how I felt instead of sweetening the pot for me to purchase from her establishment.

  “Sold,” I said with a smile.

  “Fantastic. I can’t wait to show you what we have. I’ve been working hard to get more curvy pieces of clothing into my store. I want to be an equal opportunity merchant. When I first opened this place, the only thing I could wear was the jewelry and the shoes.”

  “So you are not only the manager, you are the owner as well?” I asked in amazement.

  “Yes, I opened this boutique five years ago. I’m happy it’s done as well as it has, especially in this economy.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look old enough to own this store, much less manage it.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment. Would you believe I’m thirty-seven?”

  “No, I thought you were in your early twenties.”

  “Thank you. I try very hard to take care of myself.”

  “You’ve done an amazing job.”

  Once we were in the back I saw many pieces in my size that I absolutely loved. When she said she was trying to get more curvy pieces in her boutique, she wasn’t lying. The first thing that caught my eye was this metallic knit sheath dress with a side knot at the waist.

  “This dress is absolutely gorgeous,” I said holding the item up.

  “Isn’t it sophisticated? And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “We have a matching jumpsuit.”

  I loved the jumpsuit more than the dress.

  “Both of these are beautiful. What would make them look even better is a pair of metallic strappy heels.”

  “I could tell by what you are wearing today you have a nice sense of style.”

  “I love fashion.”

  “It shows. Is that what your career is in?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I’m looking for a job right now since I’m new to the area.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from Virginia.”

  “Well, welcome to North Carolina.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know, I can sweeten this deal even more for you,” Julia said, looking at me sincerely.

  “How?”

  “Would you like to work for me?”

  Was this woman serious? I came in here to find something to wear to my dinner with Sheldon tonight only to file a complaint on her uppity aunt no less, and here she was offering me a job. Look at God.

  “Really?”

  “I’m serious. I can tell you would be a fabulous asset for my business. You dress amazingly. You are curvy just like me, and we need more of that around here. And who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to help me launch my plus-size clothing boutique I’ve been thinking about opening.”

  I looked at her in amazement, not being able to say anything.

  “I am not a person who’s at a loss for words often.”

  “Think about it. Here’s my card. Call me once you mull it over.”

  I took her card, still speechless at how this all went down. I knew in this moment this was not happenstance. This was God.

  “Now that we got that out of the way,” Julia said, “let’s see what else we can find for you to purchase.”

  Monica

  5

  Jumping to the workout DVD, I came to the conclusion it was kicking my ass. I knew that’s what it was supposed to be doing, but damn . . . I was already sweating like a whore in church, and I had only been working out for ten minutes of this thirty-minute video. My lavender workout top had dark purple circles beneath my armpits. I thought by the fourth day of doing this, it would have gotten a lot easier, but it hadn’t. I was worn out, and I had just got started. I marched in place awaiting the next move from the man on the 52-inch flat panel when my husband walked into the living room.

  “Hey, baby,” I spoke, panting and reaching to the ceiling. Right then left. Then right, then left, going to the beat of the music they were playing
. I noticed Devin never spoke.

  “Hey, baby,” I said again waiting for him to respond.

  He walked by gawking at me asking, “What’s for dinner?”

  “You can’t speak. All you can ask is what’s for dinner?”

  “Hey, Monica. What’s for dinner?” he responded tersely.

  “Did you have a bad day at work?” I asked, noticing his obnoxious mood.

  “Let’s just say it wasn’t the best day,” he answered. “Now, are you going to answer my question?”

  I stopped, trying to get some reprieve and said, “I didn’t cook.”

  He frowned saying, “What do you mean you didn’t cook?”

  “Don’t you remember, we’re supposed to go over to your parents’ house for dinner tonight?” I reminded him.

  He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. I knew from his reaction he didn’t feel like going there. Especially since he said he didn’t have the best day. Hell, I understood. I worked today also. All I wanted to do after this workout was take a shower and crawl in my bed to relax for the rest of the evening.

  “You still could have cooked,” he spat.

  “The last time I cooked and we had to go over to your parents for dinner, you got upset because I prepared food, knowing we were going there. So now I don’t cook at all, and you telling me I should have? You need to make up your mind,” I said smartly.

  “I don’t have time for this,” he murmured as he turned to walk away from me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going upstairs to get ready like you should be doing instead of wasting your time working out to that CD. All you’re going to do is fix a big bowl of ice cream right before bedtime, so what’s the use?”

  His face was void of a smile. He was serious, and it kind of hurt my feelings. I knew Devin was not happy with my weight. He was one of the reasons why I was working out in the first place. I tried to play it off like I always did and commented in a nonchalant way, “I can work out and eat my ice cream too. And for your information, its frozen yogurt, which is healthier for you.”

  “Not half a gallon at a time,” he replied, picking up the mail from the table behind the couch and flipping through it.