I’d met Sydney during my sophomore year at Wake Forest University when Yalisa and I stopped in a KFC to grab a two piece snack in between studying for exams. I found Sydney to be charming although he was serving chicken in a box. He was neatly groomed (as much as he could be in a fast food uniform), had beautiful white teeth, and an outgoing personality. He made no qualms about his interest in me, stuffing my order with extra wings, then writing his phone number on the box.It hadn’t taken me long to call him, go out a couple times, and then start officially dating, which we did for a year before my education came to a screeching halt by my unplanned pregnancy. I cried for two weeks straight feeling like a failure, feeling like I ruined my life, feeling like I’d wasted my parent’s money and my time. Then I cried for two more weeks when Sydney told me he wasn’t ready to have any kids and he thought I should terminate my pregnancy.
“We’re not seeing eye-to-eye on having no baby,” he’d said but what hurt more was when I suggested we keep the baby and get married. “And we definitely ain’t seeing eye-to-eye on no marriage!” he’d exclaimed.
It was hard for me to see myself having a baby for a man who didn’t love me enough to marry me, but after doing a bit of research on pro-choice, I definitely couldn’t take a baby’s life for a man who didn’t love me enough to marry me. I’d have to tough it out as a single parent and hope for the best. There were plenty of women before me who’d been faced with the same situation and went on to be successful, and if they could do it, I could do it to. At least that’s what Yalisa kept telling me.
“You’re not the man I thought you were Sydney.” I managed to choke out through tears, snorts and sniffles. “Don’t worry about me or the baby. Just know that in seven more months, you will have a son or daughter somewhere on God’s green earth.” I hung up the phone then deleted his number from my contacts list.
I didn’t see or hear from Sydney again until six months later when I could no longer see my toes, had a million, zillion stretch marks on my belly, and a face as fat Porky Pig’s.
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