ADVENTITIOUS

By Walter R. Norris

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Walter R. Norris
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-0394-4

Chapter One

It was a cool autumn night, October 4, 2005, not unlike any other night. For Gwendolyn Harris, a voluptuous, chocolate skinned, 26 year old, it was the eve of a new beginning. Tomorrow she would begin her new position as a computer programmer at one of Memphis' largest corporations.

After two years of school, sacrifices, and drama, it was finally over. The events of the past years did not seem so bad now, tuition, saving, and wrapping pennies, for food and gas money, not to mention putting up with dead end relationships.

After graduating from high school, Gwendolyn was not sure of what she wanted to do in life. College was not a prospect for her. She had toyed with the idea of being a fashion model. Then she met Angelo. He played football for Manassas High School and later attended Tennessee State University. She was very much in love with Angelo. This was one of the reasons she became pregnant, the other was, her pregnancy, gave her a sense of being, a direction to follow - a future. Angelo thought marrying her would be the right thing to do. That meant he had to quit school. After the baby was born, she recalled, she was so happy. Even Angelo, who was visibly disappointed for having to drop out of college, was proud and happy with his new son. There was a renewed drive in him.

Then that morning came, that morning that she would never forget. She had awakened to feed the baby. Normally, the baby's cry would awaken her at daybreak. However, on this morning, it was different. When she picked the baby up from his crib, it was cold and stiff. That coldness went through her body, where it has since remained. The death certificate said it was Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). It was also the end of her marriage. Angelo had begun to blame her for all of his misfortunes, for causing him to quit school, even for the death of their son. That was a tough pill for a nineteen year old to swallow, she thought. Angelo finally left her and they got a divorce. That was seven years ago.

She had not realized it but tears were streaming down her face. "Girl, stop that," she said to herself, wiping her face with her hand. "That was then and this is now," she said aloud as her thoughts returned to the present situation. She was also pregnant, but she had a solution. Her friend was coming over and they would discuss it tonight. He would have to agree with her. She was not going through the heartbreak connected with child rearing. After all, her relationship with the father was a dead end.

Peering through her closet, she pulled out one outfit after another. What must I wear, ran through her mind, the mauve or the red? The excitement made her feel like a teenager. The whishing of the garage door as it raised interrupted her thoughts. There was also the sound of a car entering it. The anticipation of the next day left as quickly as it came. For a moment, she had been able to put her problem out of her mind. She knew only one person had access to her garage remote. The kitchen doorbell rang. She knew what she had to do. How would he take what she had to say; would he make a scene; am I making the right decision? The questions tumbled through her mind, while turning the key to open the door.

It was her friend, whom she had met at a local club. Briefly, she recalled their chance meeting. He had come along at a time when she needed that extra boost, mentally and financially. The stresses of school had begun taking its toll on her. She had to get out of the house and let her hair down. Therefore, she and her girlfriends took a night out on the town. There was a new band at the club on Beale Street and she felt like dancing. That was when he came to the table and asked her to dance. It was hard not to like him. He was unpolished, but still somewhat of a gentleman. Over the past few months, she had grown to trust him, perhaps a little too much. At the onset of their relationship, he had told her that he was married and had two children. Yet he would take time out to spend with her. He even took her on a couple of trips out of town. She knew that their relationship could not go any farther than it had. However, she was fond of him, and it fit her agenda. Contrary to that, she had not planned on pregnancy.

She stood back holding the door, allowing him to enter. The garage was completing its mechanical cycle as it closed, separating them from the outside world. After closing the door, she turned, only to be startled as he enfolded her in his arms. She could feel a slight chill from his jacket; the warmth of his body radiated from his arms. For a brief moment, everything was all right.

"You said you needed to talk to me," he said. "What's up baby? Before you start, congratulations on your new job."

She replied, "Thanks, but that's not what I called to talk about. I went to the doctor Friday. I am pregnant!"

He grabbed both sides of his head with his hands, as in disbelief, turning away from her. He then turned facing her, shaking his head and hands in unison. He exclaimed, "How do I know it's mine? For all I know it could be that sadistic boyfriend of yours."

Even after meeting him, she continued her affair with John. Somehow, John had discovered she had a new friend. He had become jealous to the point of becoming violent. Although she had terminated the relationship, he continued to come by, uninvited. Friday night, she had witnessed a frightening side of him. The police had to remove him, physically, after he had pried her bedroom window, and threatened her with a crowbar.

"Are you listening to me?" he shouted.

"No, you listen to me; I haven't been with anybody but you," she cried. "I told you I have not slept with him in four months. I am two months pregnant."

After pacing around the room, he began walking towards the kitchen door. Turning towards her, he said, "I've got better things to do than listening to your lies. I am not going to stand here and argue with you."

"We can work this out, just listen," she said pleadingly.

"I don't want to hear nothing you got to say," he shouted, staring at her cold-eyed.

How could she discuss the abortion if he would not listen? How could he treat her like this, she thought. She would never try to hurt him. Why was he treating her like trash? His verbal abuse increased her anguish. Somehow she had to maintain her composure if she was to get her point across.

He was still pacing the floor raving inaudibly. "I've got better things to do than listen to your lies," he repeated, again walking towards the kitchen door. "I'm not going to stand here and argue with you."

She had accepted her problem with equanimity, but her composure collapsed like the cone of a volcano, spurting forth its contaminants. Gwendolyn reached for the telephone attached to the wall. She began dialing, as the tears flowed from her eyes. "Maybe your wife would like to know she's going to be a stepmother," she said.

Rage overcame him as he rushed towards her, grabbing at her arm. Her clutch tightened on the phone, struggling to maintain control. "Call my wife, bitch I will kill you!" he shouted. Forcibly, he pulled the receiver from her hand and struck her in the forehead. She fell to her knees. She reached for the phone cord, as the receiver hanged, twirling at its end. Again seizing it, she brought it to her ear.

He began dragging her towards the living room. Again shouting at her, "let go of the phone bitch or I'll kill your ass."...