One Last Lie (16 page)

Philip flopped down beside June, spreading his arm along the back of the sofa so his hand fell only inches from the back of her neck. She felt herself tense up.

“Can I get you something to drink, June? We have both alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.” He switched his gaze to Angela. “Although the non-alcoholic ones are really for Angela. Once she’s pregnant, no more Double G and T’s for her. She’s lucky if we let her drink a Pepsi once a month.”

Except for Handel playing softly in the background, the room was silent. Philip’s comment brought the true reason behind this get-together to the forefront of the conversation and no one was sure what came next. June looked at Angela and dispensed a strained smile.

“This is weird, huh?” Angela tightened her grip around Jonathan’s hand.

Jonathan placed his other hand around hers and smiled at Philip. “I’ve been saying that to Philip all day. It
is
weird. I mean, we’ve all talked about it at least a thousand times. But now that it’s actually time to make this happen, it feels… well, strange.”

“I keep telling him to loosen up.” Philip smiled back at Jonathan. “Like I said, just put your stuff in the cup and give it to Angie. She’s the professional. She knows what to do with it.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “You make it sound so…
special
, Philip. Have you no shame?”

“He doesn’t.” Jonathan jumped in before Philip could open his mouth. “You should know that already, Angie.” Jonathan smiled at June. “And I guess it’s something you should learn about him too, June. He’s a little rough around the edges.”

June laughed quietly, holding her hand in front of her mouth. “From what I’ve heard, you’re two of the most wonderful men on the planet.” June and Angela exchanged glances. She could tell Angela was pleased with her comment, so she moved her hand from her mouth to her lap. “I’ve heard nothing but extreme praise.” She turned to Philip, “about
both
of you. So I’m not going to believe any of this.”

“I heard the slightest of a southern twang in there,” said Jonathan. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re absolutely right. I grew up in the south. Wrightsville, Georgia to be exact.”

Philip scooted around and leaned his back against the arm of the sofa in order to get a full view of June.

“We love Georgia. Thought about moving down there once or twice, but decided we wouldn’t be able to stand the humidity… or the bugs.”

June smiled. “Yes, bugs can be a problem. Especially the palmettos. They’re huge, and they crunch like pistachios when you step on them.”

Philip turned to Jonathan. “Living, breathing pistachios that crunch. Now you see why we’re not in Georgia.” He turned back to June. “Why haven’t we met you before?”

June looked to Angela and found nothing but a blank stare. She felt perspiration on her palms; fast thinking had never been her strong point.

“I work a lot,” she started.

“
A lot!
” Angela chimed in.

“I’m never home. Always at the hospital, working my own shift or someone else’s. It’s not good for the social life, but it’s definitely good for the bank account.”

“I think I might’ve seen you looking out your door as we were climbing the stairs to Angela’s apartment.” Jonathan said. “It might even have been the first time we visited her. I’m not sure.”

June rubbed her moist hands together. Jonathan was right. She’d been peeking out her door that day to get a glimpse of them, too afraid of Angela’s reaction to even think about introducing herself.

“I’d just gotten home from an eighteen hour shift. I looked terrible and didn’t want to put you through such a horror show.”

Angela leapt up and placed a hand on each shapely hip.

“Okay everyone, are we here to learn about the history of June Stokes, or are we going to get pregnant?”

Philip stood, walked to Angela, and kissed her cheek.

“You’re right. And I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. I think about fifteen years ago and how we’ve become two totally different people. And now we’re going to be making a baby together!” He turned to Jonathan. “Well, you know, the two of you will be making a baby, but…”

“The three of us,” Angela cried. “The three of us are going to be making a baby together.”

Watching Angela hug Philip, June’s thoughts raced. Something wasn’t right in the way Angela held onto him; almost squeezing him, her face leaning against his shoulder with a look of contentment; an unintentional admission that she’d love to remain there for the rest of her life.

*

June gasped at the enormity of the bathroom, almost the size of her living room and kitchen combined. Light from the dimly lit sconces splashed through frosted glass and onto the shiny black granite countertop, where tiny specks of gold glinted from different angles. Again, she covered her mouth with her hand, gazing at the most beautiful slate floor she’d ever laid eyes on; gray-black stone that added additional elegance to the intensely modern room.

Angela threw her suede bag onto the countertop and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Using the index finger of each hand, she carefully wiped under each eye, trying to erase any sign of smudging mascara. She glanced at June and rolled her eyes.

“Get over it, June.” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a hairbrush. “It’s a bathroom. Not the Taj Mahal. Please stop acting like such a hick. It’s embarrassing.”

June felt a tightening in her stomach. The Bitch was back.

“I know it’s an important night for you Angela, so I won’t be mean again. But if you don’t mind, please try to be nice to me for the rest of the evening.” She turned to leave the bathroom. “You don’t need to kiss my ass like you do Philip and Jonathan’s, but you can at least be civil.” She walked out of the bathroom and dropped her pocketbook onto the bed. “
You’r
e the one who’s embarrassing.”

June heard Angela sigh, and then her heels clacked across the slate floor.

“You’re right,” Angela said. “I’m sorry. I’m totally uptight and I’m being nasty.” June felt Angela’s hand on her shoulder, but wouldn’t turn around. “Please forgive me, okay? I need you tonight.”

June finally turned around and looked at Angela, whose eyes were wide, her expression outwardly sincere.
She
is
good.

“Okay. Apology accepted.” June surrendered.

She almost fell backward from amazement as Angela wrapped her arms around her, squeezed tightly, and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here with me. This is awesome!”

With that, June dropped to the bed and lay on her side, already exhausted from a night that hadn’t even truly begun. Angela returned to the bathroom and spewed forth the evening’s rules like an instruction manual, forcing June to struggle to hear through the wall between them.

“Here’s how it’s going to happen. I’m not sure who will bring the sperm, but you take the cup and bring it to me. I’ll go into the bathroom and load the syringe. Then I’ll come out, lie on the bed, and you can prop some pillows under me. I’ll then insert the syringe and dispense the sperm. I’ve practiced it about a thousand times, so I’m pretty good.”

June rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom door. She leaned against the jamb and crossed her arms.

“So tell me, Angie, are you saying I came all the way out here with you to prop up pillows?”

Angela turned to June, her smile forced.

“June, like I’ve told you over and over, you’re also here for moral support. Or are you upset because you really wanted to insert the syringe so you can get a good look at my…”

“Jesus, Angela. What’s wrong with you?” June shook her head. “Of course I don’t want to insert the syringe. I just thought I could help with the things I know best. Like adding saline to the sperm to minimize waste. Or getting the bubbles out of the syringe before insertion. You know… something that will really make me part of the potential conception.”

Angela rubbed June’s arm, her smile fading so quickly June could’ve sworn she heard it hit the floor.

“First of all, don’t call this conception ‘potential.’ It
will
happen. It
has
to happen. And second, I’m not using saline, because there’s too much dilution. I want this to be pure, unadulterated sperm.” She slid her bare feet toward the mirror and leaned against the sink, her palms flat on the counter. “Now, after I get the sperm inside me, I’ll be making myself cum. You might want to be in the bathroom for that.”

A wave of dizziness made June’s head spin. She slithered along the bathroom wall, stopped when she reached the corner, and slid down until her butt hit the floor. This whole thing had become stranger by the minute. When Angela first asked her to be a part of this, she’d been so flattered and excited she could barely wait for this day. But now, with Angela’s erratic behavior at a whole new level, she felt like a caged bird searching for the tiniest of openings to fly away.

She tried to smooth the dry sprouts of hair falling onto her forehead. “What do you mean you’ll be making yourself cum? What’s that for?”

“Well,” Angela dabbed cherry colored lipstick onto her bottom lip. “If you really knew what you say you know, you’d know an orgasm helps the cervix dip into the vaginal pool. That helps the sperm get sucked up faster and also helps speed up the sperms’ movement.” She pressed her lips together, smoothing the lipstick evenly over her mouth. Turning to June, she leaned against the sink and crossed her arms. “Now, my dear, if you can find the strength to rise, we’ll get started.” She reached out her hand and helped June stand. . “Are you ready?”

June looked to the ceiling, her eyes searching for the God she’d long ago given up on. Finding nothing but the reflection of sconces floating in a sea of white, glossy paint, she almost started to sob. Instead, she looked into the mirror and saw the scrawny, pitiful girl she’d always been; a desiccated bushel of hair sitting atop the most ordinary of faces; pallid skin accentuated by dark circles under her eyes, and lips as thin as razors.

She used all her strength to hold herself up, realizing that someone like Angela, someone crazy, erratic and basically emotionless, was the only kind of person who would befriend her. If she wanted any contact with the outside world, she’d have to accept Angela’s hatefulness as part of the package.

“Yes,” she whimpered, “I’m ready.” She walked into the bedroom, falling onto the bed next to her purse. As she dug through it, she felt feel Angela’s judging eyes on the back of her head. “I’m ready,” she mumbled again. “I just need a pill first.”

*

The soft knock on the door made June jump. She sprang to her feet and almost leapt to the bedroom door, smiling timidly when Philip handed her the small plastic cup. Once again she felt the urge to scream:
Don’t do this, Philip! It’s a mistake! Can’t you see?
But instead she turned to Angela who was lying on the bed and offered a smile. Angela smiled back, but only to Philip. She gave him a wave.

“This is it,” he said through the partially opened door. He waved back and looked to the floor.

Sensing his uneasiness, June touched his hand. “If we need anything, we’ll let you know. It shouldn’t take long.”

Philip tightened his mouth, creating a dimple beneath his left cheek. “Okay. We’ll be in the living room when you’re done.” He gave Angela the thumbs up and smiled. “Good luck,” he whispered.

June watched him walk down the hallway before she shut the door and turned around. Angela was already standing behind her, arm fully extended, waiting for the cup. Startled, June jerked backward, nearly dropping the contents of the cup down the front of her shirt.

“Jesus Christ, June!” Angela shrieked. “Give me that cup and go wait by the bed. I’m going to fill the syringe.”

Cup in hand, Angela practically ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. June sat on the bed. wiping the nervous perspiration from her forehead.
What would have happened if she dropped the sperm? What would Angela have done? What would Philip and Jonathan think of her?

Noises from the bathroom stopped her worry in its tracks. It sounded as though a cleaning crew was in there: clanging metal, clinking glass, a sound similar to silverware being stacked away in a drawer. The ruckus continued for another minute or so before the room fell silent.

When the bathroom door opened, Angela held the syringe in her open palm like a doctor holding a heart about to be transplanted. It was as though she were in a trance, her face holding an expression so serene and tranquil June was suddenly convinced Angela
would
get pregnant tonight. She could see it in her eyes and sense it in the air between them.

“I’m ready,” Angela said, almost floating toward the bed.

June ran to her side. “Here, let me help you.” She grasped Angela’s arm and assisted her onto the bed. Taking the pillow she’d plumped up earlier, she scooped it under Angela’s hips so her bottom was raised and her pelvis canted. “There, I think you’re all set.”

“Thank you,” Angela said, looking up at June, peacefulness still surrounding her like a vaporous cloud. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.

“Me too,” replied June, brushing back the wisps of hair from Angela’s forehead. “Let me know if you need me for anything.”

Gently patting Angela’s arm, she rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom. Before she had the chance to see her mirrored reflection, she flicked off the lights, crouched down, and held her head in her hands. She was finally alone, exactly where she wanted to be, with nothing but darkness and the slap of her tears hitting the most beautiful slate floor she’d ever laid eyes on.

13

With barely three hours of sleep, Jonathan struggled to clear his eyes so he could see what all the noise was about. He finally focused on Katy, unloading brown paper grocery bags on the other side of the room. As if the racket from the other nursing home patients wasn’t enough, it seemed Katy had joined the club to do everything she could to disturb his sleep. He cleared his throat but didn’t utter a word, knowing the sound would force her to turn around.