Full Figured 12 Read online

  “You should’ve slapped the shit out of him,” Bailey snapped.

  “But maybe he was just joking and didn’t mean to do anything wrong.” I thought out loud. “He didn’t really say anything wrong.”

  “You left work because you were so upset. And it’s not what he said; it was the way he said it. He violated your personal space. You’ve gotta go to HR.”

  “What?” I said, slamming on the brakes because I had almost run a red light. I was driving Var’s Acura that had basically become mine when he bought his new car a few months ago. I still had my old Honda, but I loved this car as if it were my own.

  “That’s sexual harassment, Zen,” she said.

  “No, it’s not. He didn’t grab me or anything,” I protested.

  “He touched you, and he made comments of a sexual nature.”

  The light turned green, and I proceeded. “I’m just gonna avoid him from now on.”

  “Trust me, you have to report him. Lemme ask you this: are you gonna tell Var what happened?”

  “Hell no. Are you crazy?” I shook my head as if Bailey could see me through the phone.

  “Because you know he would go up to that office and tear that office up, then kill that dude. That’s how you know it’s sexual harassment.”

  “I don’t know, Bailey.” I pulled into the driveway. Eager to change the subject, I asked her about work. Bailey was a programming director for the radio station, and she not only kept me up to date on the latest celebrity gossip, but we always got great seats at concerts and other freebies.

  “Today was nothing special. Oh, we do have one of the Housewives of Atlanta coming through next week, though,” she said.

  “Really? Which one?” I became excited about possibly meeting a cast member from one of my favorite TV shows.

  “Child, I don’t even remember,” Bailey replied.

  It amazed me how nonchalant she was when it came to the people she came across all the time. The only person I’d ever heard her become star-struck about was Prince, her all-time favorite artist, whom she got to meet right before he passed away. Everyone else was just ordinary to her.

  I opened the mailbox before unlocking the front door. Once I was inside, I began sifting through the pile of mostly bills and sales ads. But one envelope, in particular, stood out to me.

  “Here we go with this bullshit again.”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Var got another letter from Child Support Enforcement. His baby mama probably found out we got the house, and now she’s probably trying to take him back to court for an increase.” I sighed as I opened the envelope. Scanning the letter, I expected to see the name if his son’s mother, along with a court date. Instead, the name listed was not one I was familiar with.

  “Lemme call you back, Bailey.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I hung up the phone without saying another word. Sitting at the kitchen table, I reread the letter, slower this time. As I realized what the letter stated, my heart felt as if it was exploding into a million pieces. I didn’t wipe the tears that streamed down my face. I let them fall one by one, wetting the papers that I held in my hand.

  When Var finally walked through the front door an hour later, I was still sitting at the table. I hadn’t moved from the spot I’d sat in when I got home; not even to turn on the light when the sun began to set.

  “Shit, you scared me,” Var said when he passed the entrance to the kitchen and saw me sitting at the table. “Why the hell are you sitting in here in the dark?”

  I didn’t answer him. I just sat and stared.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning on the light. I still didn’t move nor answer. “Zen, you’re scaring me. Baby, please tell me what’s going on. Are you okay?”

  “Who is April Hughes?”

  Var cocked his head slightly to the side and frowned. “Who?”

  “April Hughes.” I repeated the name.

  “Oh, uh, she—”

  “When the fuck were you going to tell me?” I asked before he could finagle a lie.

  “Tell you what?” He shrugged, confused by my question.

  “How long was it going to take? What was your fucking plan?” I blinked and waited for his answer.

  “Zenobia, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t, Var,” I warned.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Please don’t stand there and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Zen, damn it. I ain’t acting. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m asking you one more time. When the fuck were you gonna tell me you and April Hughes had a fucking newborn, LeVar?” I threw the papers across the table at him.

  “Zen,” he said softly, reaching for me.

  “Don’t fucking touch me, Var.” I jumped up from the table. A familiar sharp pain shot through my abdomen as if to remind me once again that the baby I once carried in my womb was no longer there.

  “Zenobia.”

  “Congratulations, Var. At least now I know what the fuck you did with all the baby stuff I bought. Yeah, took it to the Goodwill, huh? You lied about that too.” I laughed sarcastically. “I can’t believe this shit. Well, at least I know now why you’ve been in such a rush to move too. You ain’t want that damn letter to come to this house.”

  “I know this looks bad, Zen. Please just let me explain.”

  “This explains a whole hell of a lot. That break you needed, the one where you said you needed space because you didn’t feel that I was pulling my share of the weight and I wasn’t working up to my full potential? It was all because you wanted to be fucking some other bitch. If that’s what you wanted, Var, that’s all you had to tell me,” I snapped at him.

  “Zen, real talk, I just found out about this myself. I wanted to tell you.”

  “But you didn’t!” I screamed.

  “Because I found out about her saying the baby was mine the night you were rushed to the hospital. How the fuck was I gonna tell you about this when that just happened?” He had the nerve to raise his voice at me, and I looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Are you yelling at me?” I asked.

  “No.” Var lowered his voice. “But, Zen, that ain’t my baby. She’s lying.”

  “Y’all make the perfect couple then. You’re both great liars.” I walked out of the kitchen and headed down the hallway toward our bedroom, “A match made in fucking Heaven.”

  Our bedroom was a cluttered mess from all the packing we were in the middle of doing. I spotted the travel bag that I had taken to the hospital in the corner, and I put it on the bed, tossing some clothes for the rest of the week into it.

  “Zenobia, stop it, please.” Var went to touch me again, but I snatched away from him.

  “Move out of my way, Var.”

  “I’m not letting you leave,” he said, standing in front of the bedroom doorway with his arms folded across his chest like some fake superhero. “Not until we talk about this.”

  “Now you wanna talk about this? What the fuck is there to talk about?” I frowned, grabbing my pajamas and underclothes out of the drawer. “We should’ve talked about this a year ago when you convinced me to get back together with you. Oh, that was after I got the new job and you said I was ready for what you were trying to build in your life. You know what, Var? You had me thinking that I was slacking, which was why you wanted space, when the entire time, it was you wanting to be a whore. And you have the nerve to talk about your daddy.”

  I knew that what I said would hit a nerve. Var’s dad had constantly cheated on his mother, so much so that he had several other children outside of his marriage. Var’s motivation in life was to achieve everything his father hadn’t: great career, big house, nice cars, and the ability to provide for his mother.

  “I’m nothing like him.” Var looked like he wanted to hit me, but he knew better.

  “I asked you, Var. I asked you w
ere there other women when we were apart, and you swore there weren’t.”

  “Zen, she’s lying. You don’t need to leave. It’s an order for a blood test. That baby ain’t mine.”

  “It doesn’t even matter at this point, Var.” I zipped the bag and put it on my shoulder.

  “So, this is what you really wanna do, Zen? You just wanna leave before we know if this is even my baby? You just wanna walk away from everything we’re trying to build here?”

  I held my tongue, refusing to answer him. Looking at Var, I saw that it wasn’t hurt in his eyes, but anger, and that disappointed me.

  “Fine then, Zenobia. Carry your ass. Go ahead and leave.” He stepped out of the doorway, and I walked out.

  Chapter Six

  After leaving the apartment, I went to Bailey’s condo. I called out sick for the remainder of the week, and in addition to avoiding work, I also avoided Var’s calls and texts. Bailey was the amazing, supportive friend she had always been since eighth grade, but she would only allow me to have a pity party for so long.

  “So, what’s your game plan?” she asked me on Sunday night while I was camped out on her sofa, eating nachos and watching reality television.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Have you talked to Var?” she asked, sitting on the other end of the sofa and putting her feet under the blanket that was covering me.

  “Nope. What’s there to talk about? How he’s been lying for the past year? Surely you can’t expect me to talk about that. Talk about how not only does he have one baby mama to deal with, but now two? How he has a newborn by some random chick; a new baby that he can hold and kiss, and I have nothing? Is that what we’re supposed to talk about?” I asked, my voice filled with sarcasm.

  “Well, those aren’t the exact topics I was thinking about, but now that you mention it, I do wanna know why the fuck he’s been lying to you for a whole damn year, personally.” She shrugged.

  “Fine, then you ask him. I know he’s been blowing your phone up as much as he’s been blowing up mine.”

  Bailey nodded. “Yep.”

  “Well, next time he calls or texts you, ask. I don’t give a shit.”

  “Zen, it’s okay to give a shit. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Funny thing is, I really don’t. I’m done, Bailey.”

  “If you say so.” The way Bailey said it let me know she didn’t believe me. Truth was, I didn’t know if I believed it myself. I was beyond hurt; I was devastated. But being with Var was something I had always wanted. From the moment we met nearly five years ago, I had been smitten with him.

  When he had first approached me, I thought it was a joke. He was fine as hell, and so were the other two guys sitting with him at a nearby table, while I sat at the bar. I had just finished my last final exam and was waiting for Bailey so we could celebrate the moment with plenty of drinks and happy hour appetizers.

  “Hello.” He smiled at me when he walked over.

  “Hi,” I said, trying not to stare at his dimpled smile, which showed off his perfect white teeth.

  “It’s me, Var.”

  “Okay, Var. What’s up?” I prepared myself for what I knew was gonna be some BS. I had been plus-size my entire life and had learned that most guys thought that all “big girls” had low self-esteem and could be approached any kind of way. That was not the case with me. I knew that I was beautiful, fashionable, and had a lot to offer. Any man that I chose to date would be the lucky one, not me. Knowing this allowed me to discern between the guys who were decent and the ones who were trying to play games. As I sat there looking at Var, with a body like a fitness model even in simple jeans and a T-shirt, I wondered what kind of game he was about to try.

  “I have a confession,” he started.

  “Then you also have a problem,” I told him.

  He gave me a confused look. “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m not a priest, and we’re definitely not in a church.” I looked up, then around.

  “You’re funny. I like that. But I do have something to tell you.”

  “What’s that?” I turned slightly to get an even better view of him.

  He took a deep breath then, to my surprise, he said sheepishly, “I’ve had a crush on you for a while. Since the sixth grade.”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t even know you in sixth grade.” I looked at him like he was crazy.

  “We were in Miss Turk’s class. Shell Elementary?” he said adamantly.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea who Miss Turk is, and I don’t even know where Shell Elementary is.”

  “Olivia, stop playing.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. My name isn’t Olivia,” I told him.

  “Damn, I’m so sorry. I thought you were this girl I had a crush on for years. Her name was Olivia Pritchett. Man, my boy Rich even told me it was you. You look just like her.” He sighed. “I apologize.”

  “It’s cool. No apology needed,” I told him.

  “Well, at least let me buy you a drink. That’s the least I can do. What are you drinking?”

  He bought me a glass of wine then went back over to his table. A few minutes later, Bailey finally arrived, and we started our celebration. We were on our third round when Var came back over to me.

  “Damn, he’s fine,” Bailey whispered a little too loudly in my ear.

  “Hello again,” he said.

  “Hello.” I laughed, now feeling quite giddy from my alcohol consumption.

  “I know you’re not Olivia, but you didn’t tell me your name.”

  “You didn’t ask me.” I shrugged.

  “You’re right. Can I get your name?”

  “Zenobia, but you can call me Zen,” I replied.

  “That’s beautiful. Well, I came back over here because I have something to tell you.”

  “You and these confessions. What are you, an Usher album?” I shook my head.

  “Again with the humor. That’s a good one.”

  “Welp, spill it.” I clapped my hands and rubbed them together as if I were preparing to hear some juicy gossip.

  Var leaned over and whispered, “I’ve got a crush on you.”

  I tossed my head back and laughed heartily. “Dude, I’m not the girl from sixth grade. You do not have a crush on me.”

  “I know. I’ve had a crush on you for a while now.” He looked down at his watch. “For about thirty minutes.”

  “You are hilarious, you know that?” I searched his face, waiting for the punchline of what I suspected was going to be a joke, but there was none.

  Var asked me for my number, and I gave it to him. He called the following day and the day after, and every day after that. We started dating, and he quickly captured my heart. I wasn’t naive to the fact that when most people saw Var and me, or when they found out we were dating, they were a bit surprised. Granted, I was cute, but in the words of my best friend, Var was built like an action hero and as gorgeous as a soap opera star. I could see them wondering how I ended up on his arm. Not only was he good looking, but he was passionate about everything he did, including making me into the woman he thought I could be.

  Var loved the way I looked; he never complained about my size and actually let it be known that he enjoyed my being thick and curvy in all the right places. There was no lack of physical affection from him, whether we were in public or home alone. He enjoyed hugging, touching, rubbing, and loving on me. But what he didn’t like was that I was what he considered a dreamer. “I get it, Zen, you like making stuff and decorating, but you shoulda known finding a job in that field that pays decent money was gonna be hard,” he told me when I still hadn’t found a job almost a year after graduating. He was ready to do more things in life, such as travel, buy a home, and start investing. I really didn’t have a decent job, and most of my money was going to pay my student loans.

  I knew I was becoming somewhat of a burden, and it caused a lot of tension between us. Whenever he would
come home and find me sewing or looking at design magazines as I helped our family and friends with design ideas for their homes, his demeanor would change. Eventually, I stopped, hoping it would help our relationship, but he still decided we needed a break. I moved out; however, even when we were apart, we remained close. He suggested that getting my MBA would enhance my design degree and maybe open more doors for me. So, I went back to school. Then, I landed the job with the property management company.

  Now, here we were. His advice had paid off. I had a decent job, made lots of money, my bills were paid, we were finally making moves—and he had a new baby.

  “I’m going to start looking for a place this week,” I said. I knew Bailey enjoyed living alone, and I wasn’t trying to invade her personal space. “I won’t be crashing here too long. Don’t worry.”

  “Shut the hell up, Zen. Don’t act like you didn’t have shit upstairs in the guest bedroom before all of this happened. You know you’re welcome to stay here however long you need to. When you’re ready to talk to Var, you will. And that doesn’t mean you have to decide to stay with him or leave him. You’re dealing with a lot, including that bullshit on your job with that Lloyd dude.”

  At the mention of Lloyd’s name, I shook my head. “I don’t even wanna think about that.”

  “You have to think about it. Eventually, you’ve gotta go back to work, and when you do, you need to report his disgusting ass.” Bailey took the plate of nachos that I hadn’t touched since our conversation began, and put it on the coffee table. “Zen, not only did he say some out of line shit, but he touched you inappropriately. That’s a straight workplace violation. He needs to be fired.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You’ve put too much time and energy into that place to have an asshole like him run you away. Don’t let him get away with this shit, Zen.”

  I looked at Bailey. She was right. My relationship with Var was important, and something that was going to take time for me to figure out. My job was just as important to me, and something that needed to be handled immediately.

  Chapter Seven