Aurora Gayle - The Pregnancy

“We will get through this.”

It felt wonderful to wake up to the smell of my mother’s West Indian cooking. I got up and rushed into to kitchen to confirm what my nose detected. My mother was frying bakes and there was some saltfish souse, spinach and fried plantains on the table. A mug with Cocoa Tea was sitting on a place mat on the table.

“Oh mom! Where did you get saltfish?”

“I brought it with me from Grenada along with the cocoa balls and the spices. I hope you enjoy everything.”

I hug and kiss her on the cheek, “thank you Mom!”

After breakfast my mom busied herself on the phone talking to my stepdad on the phone about their restaurant business and home affairs. I was curled up on the couch scrolling through my phone. I checked my facebook to see if Devin had read my message but he had not read it nor responded. I decide to check out his profile to see what I could find out about him. To my surprise his profile is like a blank slate and he has no friends and only one photo; his profile photo. I find this to be pretty odd but then I think that he probably has his profile information blocked, so I don’t think too much of it. I go on to scrolling through my newsfeed and I come upon a post that startles me.

The post is titled, “Atlanta Chef Wins Top International Award” and below the title is a picture of Devin smiling in a remarkably clean kitchen and a dazzling white apron. I click on the link to read more. It reads:

“Atlanta based Chef Trayvon Jones took home the coveted Marie Charles Award in London last weekend.”

I read the entire article and I was stunned. Did Devin have an identical twin? I tell myself that it must be Devin’s identical twin brother in the article. Still I can’t seem to shake the curiosity within me so I open up google and type in “Trayvon Jones Atlanta chef” in the search bar. I open multiple links to articles about him and I read all I can to learn more about him. All of the articles speak only about his profession but I wanted to know about his personal life. I go back to Facebook and type in his name; multiple persons with the name Trayvon Jones appear. I take my time and sift through all of them until I find him. We have 3 mutual friends; I click to see who they are. The hairs on my back stand up; Sadie and Monique are his mutual friends. I don’t want to think the worst. I cling to the hope that this Trayvon Jones person is Devin’s identical twin, yet something tells me he is not. Sadie and Monique acted like they didn’t know him at Sammy’s. If Devin had a twin surely they would have mentioned it. In my gut I know that something is not right. Both Sadie and Monique are very careful about who they add as Facebook friends. They would never accept random friend requests, so I was convinced that they knew Devin, Trayvon or whatever his name was.

After thinking hard for a good five minutes, I make the decision to call Sadie and Monique individually to see what they say. I pretend not to know about their facebook connection to Trayvon Jones.

Sadie acts shocked to find out that I discovered that Trayvon has a twin and so does Monique. I asked them, “Do you think that Devin and Trayvon are the same person?” They both said no. Monique said that twins were very common among millennials and that was the only plausible explanation. After I get off the phone with both of them, I change out of my pajamas and get ready to go to the bank. In my heart I knew that Sadie and Monique were lying to me but I just couldn’t figure out why. Were they up to something? Or were they just trying to protect me? After I am showered and dressed I sit on my vanity and take a good look at myself in the mirror. I can hear my mom in the shower singing and getting ready to go with me to the bank but I don’t let her singing distract me. I continue to stare at myself and I say out loud:

“You are smart!”

“You are a star!”

“You’re the best!”

“You are a success!”

“You are enough!”

These affirmations were all the pep that I needed to go out and re-conquer my world.

When we get to the bank my account manager Ramona is already waiting for me. We exchange pleasantries for a quick minute and then we get down to business. I tell her that I don’t remember withdrawing $6000 twice on the statement date, and I ask for more details on the transactions. She produces an electronic copy of two cheques that I clearly did not write. The cheques were made out to Devin Anderson and the forger did not bother to imitate my handwriting. Immediately I tell Ramona that I did not write those cheques and I did not know or pay anyone named Devin Anderson. Ramona promises to do a formal investigation and get back to me.

My mother is shaking her head as we get back into the car. “Somebody is messing with you. I need you to tell me all the people you may have pissed off in the past few months.”

I sigh, “no one as far as I know momma.”

“Is there someone from work who might be jealous of you?” she asks.

“No, I get along pretty well with everyone. I can’t think of anyone who would be jealous of me. “

“I would start with the people closest to you.”

My mind instantly goes to Sadie and Monique so I tell my mom what I saw on Facebook earlier. “I don’t get why they would pretend not to know him. And I’m guessing that this Devin Anderson person is the same guy from the bar. And unless he has a twin; he’s also Trayvon Jones.”

“Ok now we’re getting somewhere! I want you to think, why would Sadie and Monique have it out for you? What would they have to gain from this?”

“Mom that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to figure out! I mean they’re my friends. We do everything together. We tell each other everything, or so I thought. I mean they could be jealous, I make more money than both of them and financially I’ve got it going on in savings and investments. I’m not sure what they would gain from trying to pull me down; perhaps some kind of uncanny satisfaction”, I shrugged.

“We will wait to hear from the bank,” mother said. “I’m sure what they find will be very telling.”

I nod, “Yeah I’m sure too. Let’s get something to eat and then I will go and try to talk with management at my apartment complex.”

We get back home around 3:00 pm and once again I’m exhausted and extremely fatigued. I tell my mom that we’ll visit the property management office another day. My mom stays on the couch to read a book and I head straight to my bed. When I wake up mom is already preparing dinner. I grab a drink from the fridge and check my messages; still no reply from Devin. Remembering that I now had cameras installed throughout the house, I decide to check the footage from my phone. I fast forward through hours of footage until I see something that catches my attention. There is a man at my door. I check the date and time; this happened when I picked up my mother at the airport. I rewind the footage to see if I could see him better but he’s wearing a baseball cap that hides his face. I can’t make out anything else other than the blue jeans, t-shirt and hoodie he is wearing. Why is he just standing at my door? This must be the lurker Devin mentioned. God that could mean that Devin is real and he really escorted me home. Why don’t I remember him?

“Mom come look at this!”

I rewind the footage so that my mother could see. The man stands at my door for three minutes and then walks away.

“I’m gonna call management right now!”

My mom shakes her head, “forget management, call the police!”

I do as my mother suggests but I also place a phone call to the property management office. No one answers but their voicemail reveals why. The office opening hours are from 9 am to 5 pm on weekdays. I have no choice but to leave a voice message and await their response the following working day.