Chapter 11- How Time Flies When The Passion Dies
After sitting in the corner for what seemed like hours, I finally decided to face the music-I had to tell Henry. Slowly, I stood up, walked down the two flights of stairs, and knocked on the door that had been my undoing.
"Did you get the day wrong, or could it be that you're here at your own accord?" Henry asked me when he opened the door.
"I'm not here on business, Henry." I said.
He reached out and pulled me to him, the smell of lust on his body.
"Well, well, Maureen." he started.
"You got my pregnant, you asswipe!" I yelled.
There was dead silence as Henry let me go and sat down wearily on a chair near the doorway.
"I got you pregnant?" he asked incredulously.
"If there was a one syllable synonym for it that your puny mind could understand, then I'd say it, but YES you got me pregnant!" I snapped.
Henry stared at me like he had never seen me before in his life.
"Maureen.I." he stammered.
"Save it, Henry, just fucking save it. I don't want your excuses, your promises, whatever. I just want you to know that there's going to be a kid out there that's yours-yours and your whore's."
"Maureen, I want to be able to help you out here."
"No, you don't. You want me to keep quiet about my fucking pussy paying the rent! It's hush-money, so you won't give me a reason to land your ass in jail."
"Well what the fuck else do you want from me?"
I want my life back, my thoughts raged. I want to feel like I'm important; I don't want to feel like I'm a whore anymore!
"I want to live here, and have you pay my rent until the baby is born. Then, I'm moving out of here. I will not be your whore anymore. If you do not agree to my terms, then I will reveal you as the rapist father that you are."
Henry nodded. I still don't know to this day why I let him off, why I never exposed him. I guess I didn't need any more drama in my life than there already was.
December 31st, 1995
The months flew by. I never heard from Roger, and I missed him terribly. I saw him a few times at the Pyramid Club though, with a girl whom he called April. I ended up quitting the acting troupe because I knew I couldn't handle everything in my life then. Henry agreed to my terms, and proved for me for some things for the baby. My pregnancy was relatively easy, but now it was New Year's Eve, and my due date, December 13th, had come and gone. So there I was, all alone and pregnant on New Year's Eve.
"Hey there! When are you gonna come out?" I asked my stomach while lying on my bed and drinking cheap champagne.
Suddenly, as if in answer to my question, I felt a hard thrust from between my legs, and then a sticky wetness drizzled down and onto the bed sheets. My water had broken. Quickly, I reached over, picked up the phone, and dialed Henry's number. He and I hadn't become friends, but he was more accountable than he used to be.
"Henry?" I gasped as he picked up.
"Maureen? What's wrong?"
"My water broke-I need to get to the hospital!"
There was a pause, then, "I'll be right there."
Henry and I got the hospital two and a half hours later after getting through New York City New Year's Eve traffic. As I was wheeled into the hospital, I was already fully dilated.
"This fucking hurts!" I yelled in pain as I was wheeled into the delivery room.
"If you can't stand pain, then don't get pregnant," retorted one of the nurses.
I started to open my mouth to cuss her out when another sharp contraction caused me to yell again.
"Push, hon, otherwise you'll never get it out," said another nurse kindly.
"Is he the father?" asked the first nurse, pointing at Henry, who had come into the delivery room with us.
For a minute, I felt bad. But then, another sharp contraction reminded me that it was his fault I was here.
"No, he's not." I panted.
The look of hurt and ironic understanding passed through his gaze. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
"Not the father, huh?" asked the second nurse, noticing the look that had passed between us.
"They never are," said the first nurse sarcastically.
"PUSH!" they both ordered me.
"I'm fucking pushing as fucking hard as I fucking can!" I yelled while pushing.
Beads of sweat trickled down my body, and I felt like I was going to be torn in half.
"Once more!" cried the first nurse.
"I swear if you make this go away I'll never have sex again!" I screamed.
"I can see the head!" said the second nurse.
"I'm not ready for this!" I yelled.
And then it was over, and I was holding a beautiful baby girl in my arms. She had a small mass of brown curls on the top of her head and bright blue eyes.
"Six pounds, eleven ounces," announced the first nurse," born on January 1st, 1996 at twelve oh one."
"That was a rather quick delivery, Maureen-you should feel lucky," remarked the second nurse.
"Oh yeah, so fucking lucky." I grumbled.
But I didn't care. My baby was so tiny, so beautiful with her big blue eyes staring up at me. She wasn't crying, just observing me and life itself.
"Does she have a name yet?" the first nurse asked.
".Emma. Emma Johnson." I said softly.
I didn't want her to have Henry's name. I also knew that I couldn't keep her.
"Don't be a screw-up like me, baby. Remember, I'll always love you." I whispered in Emma's ear.
But I knew I couldn't raise her right, teach her the difference between right and wrong, or how to ride a bike, or how to pick out flattering clothes. I was unfit, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. Then, as I lifted her up in my arms, the baby blanket that the nurses had wrapped around her slipped a little off her butt. As I went to bring it back up again.
"Oh. My. God." I breathed, as I noticed a small but unmistakable heart- shaped mole on her left butt cheek.
"Roger." I murmured, "It's mine and Roger's." Coming Up: Will Maureen tell Roger about Emma? Can she really give Emma up now? Plus- now that she's moving out, where will she go?
After sitting in the corner for what seemed like hours, I finally decided to face the music-I had to tell Henry. Slowly, I stood up, walked down the two flights of stairs, and knocked on the door that had been my undoing.
"Did you get the day wrong, or could it be that you're here at your own accord?" Henry asked me when he opened the door.
"I'm not here on business, Henry." I said.
He reached out and pulled me to him, the smell of lust on his body.
"Well, well, Maureen." he started.
"You got my pregnant, you asswipe!" I yelled.
There was dead silence as Henry let me go and sat down wearily on a chair near the doorway.
"I got you pregnant?" he asked incredulously.
"If there was a one syllable synonym for it that your puny mind could understand, then I'd say it, but YES you got me pregnant!" I snapped.
Henry stared at me like he had never seen me before in his life.
"Maureen.I." he stammered.
"Save it, Henry, just fucking save it. I don't want your excuses, your promises, whatever. I just want you to know that there's going to be a kid out there that's yours-yours and your whore's."
"Maureen, I want to be able to help you out here."
"No, you don't. You want me to keep quiet about my fucking pussy paying the rent! It's hush-money, so you won't give me a reason to land your ass in jail."
"Well what the fuck else do you want from me?"
I want my life back, my thoughts raged. I want to feel like I'm important; I don't want to feel like I'm a whore anymore!
"I want to live here, and have you pay my rent until the baby is born. Then, I'm moving out of here. I will not be your whore anymore. If you do not agree to my terms, then I will reveal you as the rapist father that you are."
Henry nodded. I still don't know to this day why I let him off, why I never exposed him. I guess I didn't need any more drama in my life than there already was.
December 31st, 1995
The months flew by. I never heard from Roger, and I missed him terribly. I saw him a few times at the Pyramid Club though, with a girl whom he called April. I ended up quitting the acting troupe because I knew I couldn't handle everything in my life then. Henry agreed to my terms, and proved for me for some things for the baby. My pregnancy was relatively easy, but now it was New Year's Eve, and my due date, December 13th, had come and gone. So there I was, all alone and pregnant on New Year's Eve.
"Hey there! When are you gonna come out?" I asked my stomach while lying on my bed and drinking cheap champagne.
Suddenly, as if in answer to my question, I felt a hard thrust from between my legs, and then a sticky wetness drizzled down and onto the bed sheets. My water had broken. Quickly, I reached over, picked up the phone, and dialed Henry's number. He and I hadn't become friends, but he was more accountable than he used to be.
"Henry?" I gasped as he picked up.
"Maureen? What's wrong?"
"My water broke-I need to get to the hospital!"
There was a pause, then, "I'll be right there."
Henry and I got the hospital two and a half hours later after getting through New York City New Year's Eve traffic. As I was wheeled into the hospital, I was already fully dilated.
"This fucking hurts!" I yelled in pain as I was wheeled into the delivery room.
"If you can't stand pain, then don't get pregnant," retorted one of the nurses.
I started to open my mouth to cuss her out when another sharp contraction caused me to yell again.
"Push, hon, otherwise you'll never get it out," said another nurse kindly.
"Is he the father?" asked the first nurse, pointing at Henry, who had come into the delivery room with us.
For a minute, I felt bad. But then, another sharp contraction reminded me that it was his fault I was here.
"No, he's not." I panted.
The look of hurt and ironic understanding passed through his gaze. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
"Not the father, huh?" asked the second nurse, noticing the look that had passed between us.
"They never are," said the first nurse sarcastically.
"PUSH!" they both ordered me.
"I'm fucking pushing as fucking hard as I fucking can!" I yelled while pushing.
Beads of sweat trickled down my body, and I felt like I was going to be torn in half.
"Once more!" cried the first nurse.
"I swear if you make this go away I'll never have sex again!" I screamed.
"I can see the head!" said the second nurse.
"I'm not ready for this!" I yelled.
And then it was over, and I was holding a beautiful baby girl in my arms. She had a small mass of brown curls on the top of her head and bright blue eyes.
"Six pounds, eleven ounces," announced the first nurse," born on January 1st, 1996 at twelve oh one."
"That was a rather quick delivery, Maureen-you should feel lucky," remarked the second nurse.
"Oh yeah, so fucking lucky." I grumbled.
But I didn't care. My baby was so tiny, so beautiful with her big blue eyes staring up at me. She wasn't crying, just observing me and life itself.
"Does she have a name yet?" the first nurse asked.
".Emma. Emma Johnson." I said softly.
I didn't want her to have Henry's name. I also knew that I couldn't keep her.
"Don't be a screw-up like me, baby. Remember, I'll always love you." I whispered in Emma's ear.
But I knew I couldn't raise her right, teach her the difference between right and wrong, or how to ride a bike, or how to pick out flattering clothes. I was unfit, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. Then, as I lifted her up in my arms, the baby blanket that the nurses had wrapped around her slipped a little off her butt. As I went to bring it back up again.
"Oh. My. God." I breathed, as I noticed a small but unmistakable heart- shaped mole on her left butt cheek.
"Roger." I murmured, "It's mine and Roger's." Coming Up: Will Maureen tell Roger about Emma? Can she really give Emma up now? Plus- now that she's moving out, where will she go?