Vada Faith (12 page)

“Go home,” I said looking at each of the men. “You’re hooligans.” I swept my hands through the air and they quit chanting, but made no move to leave.

“Now hold on a second.” Bruiser stepped onto the sidewalk. Where had he come from? “The deacon here ain’t no hooligan.” He draped his big arm around the skinny man with the megaphone.

“What are you doing here?” I almost dropped my purse.

“I came to help my brother who apparently can’t help himself. I guess maybe he didn’t know he needed helping.” He gestured at the group of men around him. “We are against women running roughshod over their men. One woman in particular.” He glared at me.

“Who might that woman be?” I wanted to smack Bruiser Waddell’s face but his face was so like John Wasper’s I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not only that, he was two times bigger than me.

“You know who that woman is, and the Lord knows.” Bruiser wore a western shirt and cowboy boots. Sweat glistened on his forehead. He was a big man and even bigger in the cowboy costume. “Give this thing up.” His eyes caught and held mine. “You don’t want to be no surrogate mother, Vada Faith. Now, you know you don’t.”

“Vada Faith!” A female voice called from a few feet away.

I turned to see Angela from the Channel 3 Action News team moving toward me. She was followed by a camera crew.

“Can we get a few words from you, dear?” She arranged a yellow scarf around her neck. She wore a lime green suit. “Let’s get some shots of you in front of the shop. Oh, wait!” She snapped her fingers. “Let’s get you in front of the baby store next door. This will make a great shot.” She took my arm and spun me around.

“Perfect. Now, tell us,” she smiled at me sweetly and put the mike in front of my face, “are you pregnant yet? How does your family feel about your surrogacy? Is it true you are using your own egg?”

I nearly passed out when she asked that last question. “It’s none of your business,” I stammered, wondering how she knew about me using my own egg.

“No pictures!” I screamed as the photographer started zooming in on me with his camera. “What’s wrong with you people?”

“Breeder woman!” A man cried from the crowd and the others took up the chant. “Breeder woman! Breeder woman! Breeder woman!”

I spun around, ready to lay someone out, and caught a glimpse of myself in the shop window. My short blond hair stuck out all around my head from the wind. I was shaking from head to toe. My face was white as mama’s had been earlier at the restaurant.

I dashed inside the shop. I wasn’t about to be seen on television looking like a mad woman. I locked the door and tugged at the shade until it came down.

Then I realized people standing out on the sidewalk were staring at me anyway through the large shop window. I fell into the nearest chair and covered my face with my hands.

“How about a Coke?” Joy Ruth asked as she buttoned up her white smock. She must have felt some sympathy for me or she’d never have offered the drink. She was ready to go back to work as if it were an ordinary day, and my life was slowly falling apart.

“Yes, please,” I snipped, “and throw in some rum.”

“Fresh out.” She handed me a can of Coke. “You’ll have to settle for this. I think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time, sister,” she said, “using your own egg.”

I didn’t respond and we sat there in silence sipping Cokes until the crowd outside started disbanding. Then someone started pounding on the door.

Cautiously, Joy Ruth unlocked the door and an old woman tromped inside, stamping her shoes. I’d seen her around town, but she’d never been in our shop before.

“Why’s the door locked?” She demanded, looking around her curiously. A scarf covered most of her head, a few bushy gray hairs stuck out on the sides and she wore dark glasses.

“We were taking a lunch break. Come on in. Vada Faith can take you.”

“Sure.” I motioned to the woman. “Over here.” I had to hurry. Midgy Brown was due in for a hair cut and style and that was a forever job. Midgy had a truckload of curly red hair.

A small crowd had gathered outside again. I’d noticed Bruiser peering in the window but I ignored him.

“I gave myself a trim this morning,” the old woman said, reaching up and taking off her scarf.

“I see you did.” She’d done some serious damage with her scissors. Nothing I couldn’t fix though.

“I couldn’t reach the back to do a proper job.” She folded her wrinkled hands in her lap as I worked. “I tried not to cut out my permanent. They cost an arm and a leg.” She sighed. “I can’t afford another until my check comes in. First of the month.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll have you fixed up in no time. I’ll just even it up for now. I’ll give you a coupon for 50% off a perm for your next visit. How’s that?” I trimmed off just enough to even it up. Then I did some layering to blend in the areas she’d cut too short.

“That’s great,” she said, patting her hair and smiling when I finished. I gave her a mist of our best spray and took the cape from around her shoulders.

“Thank you kindly,” she said. “Can I tip you next time? When I get my perm. A double tip?”

“Sure. No double tip. Okay?”

“Okay.” She reached over, patted my arm and left her hand there for a minute. “Thank you, honey. I don’t care what those men outside were saying, you do good work. Remember it’s what’s inside your heart that counts.”

My mind was too busy to look inside my own heart. I was trying to come up with creative ways to answer the press. Besides I was afraid of what I’d find there. I was going to be cornered by the media eventually. I could say, “I’m only thinking about being a surrogate.” That wasn’t true. I’d been to the clinic and the world knew it. I could turn all questions over to my sister but I didn’t want her talking to reporters.

My answers might satisfy some people. The ones hardest to convince were going to be those closest to me. What was my husband going to say about me using my own egg to make a baby for someone else? He’d hate the rowdy demonstrations in front of our shop. The news coverage would make him sick and I couldn’t imagine what he would say about his brother’s involvement.

I wanted to weep. Instead I picked up my scissors and smiled. Midgy Brown was heading toward my chair.

In spite of what I wanted or didn’t want, did or didn’t do, Angela had her camera rolling and I was on the 6 o’clock news that very evening right before the weather. The camera had caught everything. Me slinging my purse at the deacon. Me standing toe to toe with Bruiser in his cowboy suit. Even me screaming at the camera crew and Angela.

“That’s the latest on the surrogacy involving Roy and Dottie Kilgore and local resident, Vada Faith Waddell,” Angela said, standing in front of our beauty shop.

“Mommy,” Hope Renee pulled at my arm, “what’s a breeder woman? You’re on TV, mommy. See.” She pointed at the screen.

I had forgotten that both girls sat beside me on the sofa. So much for keeping them from the news.

“Those aren’t words we use,” I said. “I was on television because the news camera was in front of the beauty shop today.”

“There’s Uncle Bruiser!” Charity Mae squealed.

Sure enough there was a close up of my brother-in-law with his fat cat grin.

“Yes,” I said, turning off the set. “He was there too. Hey,” I said, snapping my fingers, “why not color Grandma Helena a picture from your new coloring books.”

“Yes,” Hope Renee said, running to get the books.

As they worked on their pictures, I knew I’d have to start censoring everything they watched and everything I did.

“I’ll be late,” John Wasper said, when I picked up the phone that evening, “so don’t hold supper.” He was already later than usual. The girls and I were eating macaroni and cheese with the loaf of fresh bread I’d picked up from the bakery on my way home.

“You have a late run?” I asked, spooning out some applesauce for the girls.

“Can I have some more?” Charity Mae clapped her hands. She loved applesauce and would eat it straight from the jar if I’d let her.

“No,” he said, “I’m not at work.

It was then I heard the music in the background and people laughing.

“Where are you?” I asked, putting the applesauce back into the refrigerator.

“It’s not important. I’m with some guys from work. I’ll be home later.”

“How much later?”

“Just later. Don’t wait up.”

“Don’t be too late,” I said. “Don’t drink and drive either. You hear?”

“Hey,” someone called out, “come on man. Is that the old lady? Tell her not to sleep with anyone while you’re gone.”

“That is not funny,” I said, between clenched teeth.

“Who’s laughing, honey? It’s not me, by heck. Not after seeing you on TV twice in one day, involved in this surrogacy thing, having a baby for someone else. We’ll maybe I’ll see you later and maybe I won’t.” With that, he hung up.

I was sitting on the sofa in the living room at 2 a.m. leafing through a magazine when I heard his key in the lock.

“If you think you’re going to stay out like this,” I said, walking into the darkened kitchen where he stood, “you’d better think again.”

John Wasper laid his keys and on the counter and put his thermos in the sink.

“Well,” I said.

“Well, what?” He turned his back to me. “I’m taking a shower. Go to bed.”

I walked past him, close enough to check his breath for alcohol. All I could smell was a day’s work on his clothes.

“I’m not drinking,” he said, with his back still to me. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I took off by myself. Okay? I’ve been driving around. That’s all. Now go to bed. I want a shower. It’s late and I need to get some sleep.” His voice trailed off. “I have things on my mind.”

There was something about his demeanor I didn’t like. He held himself away from me as if I might get too close. I crawled into bed. I listened as the old water pipes moaned and the water came shooting on. It seemed to run forever. I must have dozed off. I heard him coming up the stairs but he didn’t turn on the light and I didn’t let him know I wasn’t sleeping. He climbed into bed and lay very still. I could feel this big wedge between us. Like a knife. I didn’t know what to do about it.

I was so tired I couldn’t even cry. Tomorrow we’d have to talk, but for now, I pulled myself up in the fetal position and put everything out of my mind. I listened to the sound of the rhythmic stream I kept in my head for nights when I couldn’t sleep. It must have worked. The next thing I knew it was daylight. I felt across the bed for John Wasper but he wasn’t there. I could sense he wasn’t in the house. I got up and walked through each room to make sure. I looked out the front window. His truck was gone from the driveway.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was gone from my life too?

“You sure you’re okay?” Joy Ruth asked, holding the girls’ hands as they walked out the door. I’d called earlier and asked her to come and take the girls to mama’s. Their usual sitter had the flu.

“I’m fine,” I said, yawning. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep much with all the excitement yesterday. I’ll be in at noon.”

“If you’re sure. I can call somebody in,” she offered.

“No. I’ll be there,” I said, as she put the girls into the backseat of her car.

“Don’t come in if you’ve got the flu!” She called before she pulled away.

“I won’t.” I waved at the girls. “I promise.”

Before she was out of sight, I was back in bed pulling the covers over my head. I’d set the clock for 11. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t go back to sleep.

I was up, showered, and over at the trucking company where John Wasper worked by 11:00, which was when he took his lunch.

Finally I spotted him walking between the rows of cars to his truck with Mac Hill, a guy I didn’t care for and some other workers. When the guys disappeared, I pulled up beside John Wasper.

“Hey,” I said, “how about taking a girl to lunch?”

“What are you doing here?” He avoided my eyes and held himself away from me as though I had some fatal disease.

“I came to see you. Come on, please. Let’s go get some lunch.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.” He stared at the ground.

“Hey,” I said, “please look at me.”

He raised his head. His left eye was black.

“Good Lord!” I jumped out of the car. “Where did you get that?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He turned away from me. “I have to go.”

“If you don’t get in this car, I’ll cause a big scene.” I put my arms around him and tried to hug him but he pulled away.

“Bigger than the scene you caused yesterday? I saw the news. Everyone in Kelly’s Bar saw it, too. It was bad enough,” he said, moving away from me, “but then Bruiser rolled in and narrated it for us. So,” he said, pulling himself up straight, “that about sums it up.”

“It doesn’t sum it up. Who hit you?”

“Bruiser. After we had a few words outside the bar. Then I went driving around.”

“Looks like you had more than words.” I went over and touched his face.

“You’ve got a cut on your cheek.”

“Listen to me,” he said, this time his voice softened some. “Go home. I’m fine.”

My husband’s got the sweetest face in the world and it broke my heart to see him suffering. It hit me anew how much I really loved this man.

“I want you to be okay,” I said, putting my arms around him again. “I didn’t know it would be like this. Honest. With everyone upset. All the wild commotion. Bruiser acting like an imbecile.”

He gave me a half hug. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’m not worried about my big brother. I can take care of him. I just don’t want to go any farther with this surrogacy. I want it stopped. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. It felt good to be near him.

I wasn’t sure it could be stopped. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach. A queasy sensation. Like I had when I was pregnant with the twins. I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t want to break the spell.

“Go on,” he said, giving me a gentle shove, “and don’t worry about the black eye. It’s not my first from Bruiser.” He closed the car door for me and patted my shoulder awkwardly.