The Better Half(26)
“Can I believe what?” My mind’s preoccupied with this afternoon’s revelation, so I’m afraid I may have missed an important detail.
“That the teacher called us monkeys!” Xandra’s voice teeters on total indignation. Okay, I don’t like it either, but I think Xandra’s missing the subtle misuse of metaphor for the bigger issue at hand, the fact the girls were playing around when they were supposed to be quiet and paying attention. I continue to tread lightly here; I can tell Xandra’s feeling unfairly called out.
“It doesn’t sound to me like the teacher called you a monkey, it sounds like he didn’t like your joking around behavior and being disruptive. I agree with you, using monkeying around was probably not the best choice.” I try to muster up the appropriate level of sympathy, but teenage girls are dramatic. I remember, I was one. “From what I’m hearing, I’m not sure I’d classify the teacher as a grade A, giant D, but I’m listening.”
“Fine. Then how about a racist? That’s what I really think. I was just being nice calling him a dick.” Xandra’s voice is hard. And a little angry. Without seeing her in person, I can’t tell if her facial expressions and body language match up, but this is not the Xandra I’m familiar with.
“How ’bout we FaceTime to talk about this? That’s a pretty big allegation to toss out there on a Tuesday night.” I had been planning to bring up the Leo kiss she witnessed, but this is most definitely not the time. The butterflies already rumbling in my stomach now feel like they’re breaking furniture as I realize there’s more truth to Graham’s phone call about Xandra a few weeks back than I was willing to believe. I definitely hate it when Graham is maybe right.
“Nah, gotta go. Dash and I have a few videos on YouTube that her cousin recommended. We want to check them out before bed.” It seems Xandra has moved on to the next to-do item on her night’s agenda, and I’m left holding her boarding school baggage.
“Well, okay. G’night, baby girl. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
My evening plans are now solidified. I’ll be figuring out how I can track Xandra’s search feed from the West Coast.
NINE
Hey there,” I coo at Leo as his picture comes into full pixelation on my laptop. I miss my man like crazy. I’m wearing Leo’s favorite pink tank top with a dab of lip gloss to match. I’ve added white cotton boy shorts that allow my plump butt cheeks to peek through the bottom hem just enough to make him salivate.
I have on the jade bracelet Leo sent me accompanied with a note explaining that in Chinese culture, jade symbolizes perfection, and in his mind, I am perfect. Oh, how wrong Leo is. There’s nothing perfect about the predicament I’m in, nor my indecision over telling Leo about the baby, but the FaceTime show must go on. After a week of Leo setting up and canceling calls due to work conflicts, we have both miraculously carved out an hour for this video date, so I think I’ll just enjoy Leo’s company for tonight and save the maybe-baby news for another time when I’m firmer in my conviction on what I’m going to do.
Leo’s smile stretches across the screen. I lean forward and kiss the monitor, my heartbeat picking up speed. He puts his index and middle finger to the camera on his side to receive it, fingerprints be damned. I pull back and wink, then relax into the pillows leaning against my headboard. I perch my laptop on my knees, ready to hear about Leo’s most recent adventures in Asia that I’m positive pale in comparison to the tween drama I’ve been counseling the girls’ volleyball team through.
“Have I mentioned the eighty-hour workweeks?” I flinch at the Graham déjà vu. “And if I’m not working in the office, I’m out for seven-course evenings with clients. Most of those courses being drinks, not food, mind you. And it’s always all men, thank goodness I have Sloan in the mix!”
“Yes. You told me,” I reply, not taking the jealousy bait from the mention of Sloan’s presence. This better not be some kind of gaslighting to cover up a guilty conscience.
“Where’s your dad?” Leo asks mischievously.
“He’s at one of Marisol’s son’s football banquets. He’s the fill-in grandfather.”
“I wish I could fill you in, Nina, you look beautiful,” Leo says as his hands head south and disappear. I can’t see where they’ve gone, but I can make a pretty good guess. He hasn’t even asked about my week.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, kind of annoyed. What, he has Sloan for stimulating conversation and me for screen sex?
“Nina, can you lean in closer, I want to see more of you in that top, that, by the way, has always been a little bit see-through.” On top of annoyance, I start to feel a little clammy and nauseated. I think I have a box of crackers on my dresser.
“I miss you. And there’s no reason we have to go another three months without, you know, when we have modern technology at our fingertips. Come on, baby, let’s give it a try. I told you we can make up our own rules to this relationship, and you got me aching over here.” I can tell Leo is eager for me to play in his fantasyland, but I have no interest in video sex when I feel reflux brewing.
“I’m pregnant.” In my head I can hear Fitzroy’s voice saying, Heel nevah go before toe. Deal with important matters first, or in this case, change the subject.