Chapter 13
In the Home Stretch
Friday, Celeste’s last day at work before she took her maternity leave, was an emotional one. When she arrived at her assigned teller station, she was surprised to see pink and blue paper-cut booties decorating the counter top. The word CONGRATULATIONS in mint green and yellow letters was spelled out across the wall behind her desktop computer.
For most of the morning, Celeste’s fellow coworkers rubbed and patted her large belly every chance they got. Everyone wished her, her husband, and her new baby well. Early on in Celeste’s pregnancy the senior mother of her church had instilled a belly-rubbing phobia in her. She told Celeste to be careful of whom she allowed to touch her pregnant belly. That not everyone would be happy for her. She convinced Celeste that some folks could possibly rub her belly and whisper horrible things under their breath to try to put a root on her unborn child.
Ever since Celeste heard that advice she flinched each time someone, especially a stranger, touched her belly. Anthony told Celeste that roots were mythical and the mothers of the church needed to get saved.
It was almost 2:00 p.m. Friday and not only were Celeste’s ankles swollen to the size of tree stumps, the top portion of her back was aching due to the heaviness of her enlarged breasts. She had just come from a fifteen-minute break when an elderly Caucasian man approached her window.
“Can I have change for two hundred dollars?”
“Absolutely,” Celeste responded with a forced smile. She looked forward to the next three hours passing by; then she could go home and wait for her baby’s arrival. Celeste made sure the two hundred-dollar bills the man had given her weren’t counterfeit before giving the man six twenty dollar bills, four ten dollar bills, six five dollar bills, and ten one dollar bills.
After the man patiently waited for Celeste to count the money and lay it on the counter in front of him, he spoke. “I want it all in coins.”
Although it wasn’t likely, Celeste thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. She looked the man directly in his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I need fifty-six dollars in quarters, sixty-four dollars in nickels, thirty-one dollars in dimes, and the rest I want in pennies.”
The pain in Celeste’s back kicked in overdrive. She shifted her weight from one tree stump to the other. “Sir, I don’t have that much change in my drawer. Can I give you all singles?”
“No, I gotta have coins,” he stated firmly.
Celeste massaged the back of her neck and exhaled. Lord, you better check me right now ’cause I’m getting ready to snap. She forced herself to stay calm. Up to that moment Celeste was proud of herself that she had gotten through the day without incident. “Sir, as I’ve stated before, I don’t have that much change in my drawer.” Celeste could have gone to the vault and gotten the change to fulfill the man’s request but she was being lazy. She just didn’t want to.
“Isn’t this a bank?” the man asked loudly.
The teller on the left side of Celeste stopped what she was doing and looked at them. She watched as Celeste stretched her arm across the counter to point her finger in the man’s face. The teller pressed the alarm button to alert the manager.
“Yes, it is a bank. But who do you think got the time that it takes to count out two hundred dollars in coins?” Celeste asked the man.
The man raised his voice an octave higher. “Get your finger out of my face. It’s your job to give me what I ask for. I pay your salary.”
Apparently the man thought by raising his voice, he could intimidate Celeste. But she wasn’t the least bit fazed. Celeste sang first soprano and could hang with the big dogs.
Just as she was ready to go beyond the highest key the most expensive piano had, her immediate supervisor was at her side. “Is there a problem here?” he asked Celeste.
“Look, Maurice, you serve this ignorant, illiterate fool because I’m not doing it.” Celeste slammed her cash drawer shut and walked away. She went into the employees’ lounge and lay on a chaise chair. Ten minutes later, Maurice came and sat at her feet.
“How many times do I have to tell you that the customers are always right?”
Celeste exhaled. “Maurice, I was not about to stand there and count out two hundred dollars in change. The man was ignorant and illiterate.”
“Do you know who that ignorant, illiterate man was?”
“Nope, and I don’t wanna know.”
“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. He’s the rabbi at our CEO’s synagogue .”
Was that supposed to mean something to Celeste? “I don’t care if he was the pope. He was ignorant and I didn’t want to deal with him.”
Maurice massaged his temples. He didn’t feel like dealing with Celeste and her constant mood swings. Ever since she announced her pregnancy Celeste had become unbearable to work with. In the past eight months not a week had gone by without a customer complaint to Maurice about Celeste’s attitude. If she wasn’t yelling at the customers, she was behaving in a hostile manner to her fellow coworkers.
A customer had filed a complaint one morning that, only twenty minutes after the bank had opened for business, Celeste placed the NEXT WINDOW placard on her work station as soon as the customer stepped to up to Celeste. Celeste had spoken extremely nasty toward the customer and stated that she was taking a break.
And Maurice would never forget the day when, at five months pregnant, Celeste had threatened to do bodily harm to a customer. The customer had asked for two cashier’s checks in the amount of one hundred dollars each. To save herself some time Celeste presented the woman with a single cashier’s check for $200. After going back and forth with the woman on why it was unnecessary to waste a cashier’s check, Maurice came to Celeste’s station and ordered her to void the checks and give the customer exactly what she wanted. Fit to be tied that her lunch hour would be delayed, Celeste looked at the woman and said, “Don’t let me catch you on the street.” Maurice sent Celeste home, without pay, for the remainder of the day and she was forced to endure a five-day suspension.
Maurice knew that Celeste’s pregnancy was nothing short of a miracle. Over the years she had shared with her fellow coworkers that she longed to become a mother, and how she prayed daily that God would bless her womb. Maurice had authorized Celeste’s days off so that she could attend countless doctors visits. According to the bank’s rules and regulations, Celeste should have been terminated from her duties long ago for poor work performance and for conduct unbecoming of an employee. Maurice had shown pity on Celeste and gave her chance after chance to correct her attitude.
But pointing her finger and disrespecting a rabbi, Maurice couldn’t overlook. And because it was the chief executive officer’s rabbi, Maurice knew he had no choice but do what needed to be done. “This is your last day before you take your maternity leave, right?”
“Yep, and I can’t wait ’til five o’clock.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and call it a day? We’ll see you in eight weeks.”
Maurice didn’t have to tell Celeste twice. She immediately called a taxicab. Forty-five minutes later she was at home lying across her bed in a comatose-like sleep.
* * *
The next morning Anthony woke Celeste at seven o’clock with a soft kiss on her cheek. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Celeste lazily turned from her side to lie on her back. She yawned and stretched. “Morning.”
“What’s on your agenda today?” Anthony asked.
“Portia and Ginger are finally taking me to register at Baby World for the shower. What are you doing today?”
“Pastor Ricky Harris is speaking at a men’s prayer breakfast this morning. I’m going to pick him up and head over to Alpha Omega Baptist Church on the west side. Can I trust you to take your pills at one o’clock?”
Celeste watched Anthony slip into a shirt and tie. “If I remember,” she said nonchalantly.
“Babe, you gotta do better when it comes to taking the prenatal pills. We want a happy and healthy baby.” Anthony was the responsible one. Every day, at 1:00 p.m., he would text Celeste to remind her to take her medication. “I’ll just text you again. How’s that?”
“Thank you, Tony. You know my mind ain’t worth two cents these days.” Celeste rubbed her gigantic belly irritably. The joy of being an expectant mother had worn off months ago.
She didn’t care for the morning sickness so late in her pregnancy. Her swollen ankles and constant sleepiness were symptoms that Celeste couldn’t get used to. At eight months pregnant it irritated Celeste that she had to empty her bladder nearly thirty times daily.
Truth be told, Celeste had become angry that another human being had taken over her body and stolen her strength and energy. “I want you to know that I really don’t like being pregnant, Tony. The only reason I’m going through this is because I’m in love with you and I want to see you happy but don’t ask me to do this again.”
Anthony chose to ignore Celeste’s mood swing. During her pregnancy, Celeste had constantly blamed Anthony for her fingers becoming swollen. She had taken her wedding band off months ago. “You did this to me,” she told him.
When she was six months along and Celeste could no longer see her feet when she stood and looked down, she had blamed Anthony for that as well. “Why do I have to be the one who’s inconvenienced? I don’t think it’s fair that men don’t have to suffer as much as women do.”
Oh, I’m suffering all right, Anthony thought. “Well, you can take that up with God,” Anthony retorted.
“I’m taking it up with you!” she snapped.
Out of frustration Anthony had thrown his hands in the air. “What do you want me to do, Celeste? Huh? Tell me what you want me to do? I massage your back when it’s hurting, I rub your feet and ankles every night, and I get out of bed at three in the morning to go look for cottage cheese and crushed pineapples. I’m doing all that I can to keep you happy and uplifted because I know you’re uncomfortable at times but you’re gonna have to chill with treating me like a stepchild. I’m your husband. I ain’t the enemy.”
Anthony walked to Celeste and kissed her forehead. The sooner he left her presence, the better off the both of them would be. Clearly Celeste wanted to argue about nothing, anything, and everything. Anthony wasn’t going to feed into her temper tantrums. “I gotta go because I’m running late. Pastor Harris is waiting on me.” He looked at Celeste lying in bed. “You need help getting up?”
“You know I do, Tony,” Celeste answered sarcastically. “When have I not needed your help getting out of bed or getting out of the tub? Why would you ask such a stupid question?”
Celeste sat up, placed her feet flat on the floor, and stretched her arms toward Anthony. He grabbed her wrists and planted his feet eight inches apart and pulled Celeste forward. Veins on Anthony’s face and neck bulged as he strained and made a grunting noise as though he was using every ounce of energy he had.
Celeste knew he was teasing. “Ha-ha. You ain’t funny, Negro.”
Anthony playfully wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Whew, now that was a workout.”