i’m really trying work my way out of my one update every month or so funk but my motivation is waning. it’s so frustrating to inject energy into something only to have no return. i’ve noticed that feedback is few and far between and it’s not just me who isn’t getting comments, it’s other authors who spend time creating art only to receive close to nothing in return. it’s frustrating and hinders excitement. and i’m sure i can speak for other authors when i say that once the excitement fades so do the updates. and, i don’t know if yawl noticed but people really aren’t updating much around these parts. i don’t think that everyone is suddenly busy, i think that just like me everyone is lacking excitement.
“You get your hair done?”
Her straightened black hair had been the first thing I’d noticed. It was a stark contrast to the wavy mass she’d been sporting earlier this morning.
Her silky tresses swung as she moved.
“Yeah,” Her reply was airy and lacking of true care. I decided not to let it get to me.
My sigh cracked through my calm demeanor. Marlee was one of the most frustrating people I’d ever met. Her nonchalant attitude was something that frustrated me even with ten years between us.
I cherished knowing – in any capacity. And Marlee cherished making it known that she was unbothered by the fact that I wanted to know. She lived to torture me. She lived to plaster the fact that she didn’t care across any surface she knew my eyes would trace over.
“Why you not tell me? I would have took you.”
She finally stopped what she was doing to glance at me. “I didn’t mind going on my own.”
She moved pass me and down the hall with Millie trailing closely behind her. I watched, unsure whether to follow or stay put. A part of me wanted to give her space but that was the exact way I’d fucked up in the past. I’d given her too much space – ample space for her angst to grow and hate to bloom. I couldn’t do that again, even if it meant getting on her nerves.
With a sigh I followed the same trail she’d just taken, ending up in our bedroom. I passed by my shoes, the same pair I’d slid out of last night before crawling in bed with a sleeping Marlee.
She’d woken up, kissed me and fitted her body to mine before going back to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night she’d ditched her slumber due to the need flooding her veins. I was pulled from my sleep with hot kisses along my neck and even hotter flesh pressed against mine. I’d given in to her, satiated her. And, as we went at it I realized that I was just as needy only I would never ask – I was too afraid to.
Last night she’d been an inferno.
And this morning she resembled Siberia.
She paused in the midst of peeling her shirt off as though she felt my presence. Without a word, she turned to take me in with eyes that gave nothing away. I matched her stare, hoping she’d speak but to my dismay she carried on with the task of removing her street clothes.
When she remained only in her panties she began shifting through my side of the closet for a shirt. I said nothing. I’d given up on trying to keep her out of my clothes long ago. It was a fruitless battle that only left me frustrated and her victorious.
Satisfaction consumed her face when she came across an old BBP shirt with a Beyoncé graphic on the front. She pulled the shirt over her head, allowing it to fall over the top of her thighs before gazing at me.
There was a teasing glint in her eyes even as her face remained neutral. That nearly brought a smile to my face but her looking away deaded any urge to show my glee.
“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” I posed the question while I had her in one spot. I had to act fast, as her attention was so fleeting these days.
Her head always seemed to be in the clouds. She always seemed to be occupied but I was smart enough to know that her unreachable disposition was exclusively for me. She’d done such a good job with shielding herself from me that I was now truly watching her from the outside.
I hated how inaccessible she was to me. I hated that I had to walk over miles of eggs each time I wanted to interact with her. I hated that I’d done this to us.
My discomfort with our current situation made me want to retreat. I wanted to tuck my tail, run to a hiding spot and nurse my wounds but I wouldn’t. I’d done more running than Usain Bolt and enough was enough. I wanted to stay and fight – for us.
“Can’t.” Her eyes glided over to mine. “I have plans.”
“Oh.” My shoulders slumped. “Okay.”
I didn’t bother asking what her plans were. I didn’t want to push too hard. I knew that if I wanted to be in her good graces again I would have to do things her way.
These past few days had been every bit of confusing. She was mine but she wasn’t. She pushed me away but she pulled me close. She couldn’t make up her mind, and it was exhausting but I was determined to hang in there. I was determined to fight.
I moved to leave the room. Her rejection stung. Though I was willing to put it all on the line for her I still had my pride that took a beating every time she turned me away.
I found myself nursing wounds more often than I was comfortable with but it came with the territory of dealing with her. It came with the territory of being a masochist.
“I lied.” She blurted out as I moved towards the door. “I’m sorry… I don’t have plans – I just–“
I turned, facing her with eyes that were narrowed in confusion and a mouth that was tight with frustration.
“Why you lie?” My brows furrowed. “You don’t want to spend time with me?” I cursed myself for asking such a weighty question. I didn’t want the answer but then again I needed it.
“No, it’s not that. I’m–“ She heaved a sigh and I was sure her chest was going to expand enough to meet mine. “My first instinct is to avoid you – and I know I said I would try but I’m so scared. I’m terrified.”
Her honesty shocked and appeased me at the very same time. It was surprising and refreshing – a zing and a punch to the gut.
She been encased in her own world for so long that her giving me a small glimpse of her truth lit my world up. Every little bit she offered gave me so much satisfaction. I’d started a collection of the pieces of her that she made available. I was nowhere near close but that didn’t stop me from striving to have all of her.
She was worth the fight. She was worth the frustration and the headaches. She was everything and I was willing to spend every second reminding her of that.
In a matter of days we’d switched roles. It was nearly comical the way things had altered since our night at Webster Hall. I’d made a vow to myself to be more open and honest. I’d promised to make a conscious effort to neglect my thoughts of the past.
My memory was a rubber rope around my neck, tugging me away from our future. And her lack of a memory was a wind machine, shoving her towards me.
It seemed as though the more open I became the more closed off she became. She was quickly adapting to my old behaviors of fear and anxiety and I hated it. I was all in and she wasn’t.
I was walking uncomfortably in the shoes she’d been in since coming out of her coma, and they were torturous. The tables being turned made me feel nothing but disgust towards myself as I realized how it felt to be locked out of a space you wanted nothing more than to occupy.
Her expression remained neutral. She was still policing just how much she gave me. “I know we said we would try.”
“We did,” I nodded, knowing my reply wasn’t necessary. At the same time I knew I had to say something that would stall whatever she would finish her statement with.
Fear weaved its way through my lungs making it nearly impossible to breathe. I didn’t like the way this was sounding. It sounded as though she was ready to change her mind and throw in the towel.
“But?” I pressed when she didn’t speak fast enough. I swallowed ready to drop to my knees and pray, or beg.
“I want to try.” She killed my agony and invited my comfort in. “But my instinct is to shield myself from you.”
I nodded my understanding. “I hurt you, I know.”
She looked surprised at my acknowledgement of my wrong doings. Declaring my villainy wasn’t exactly something I was known for. “But I don’t want to keep dwelling on it, Larry.”
“I just wanna forget.” She shook her head. “It hurts to think about it.”
She huffed out. “Stop apologizing.”
“Tell me what you want me to do, baby?” I begged nearing desperation.
I was wondering blindly trying to make her happy, and for the most part it seemed as though I was failing. I didn’t know if I’d forgotten because it’d been so long since I’d put true effort into her joy or if I’d severed our connection so much that my attempts weren’t good enough.
“I want you come watch movies with me until we go out later.”
The request was simple and I fulfilled it with ease.
We’d laid on the couch watching TV and snacking on fruit. It was simple and it was perfect.
When it came time for us to get dressed to go out I had to force myself not to cancel. Staying in and doing nothing topped a night out on the town with ease but I’d already extended the invite. And, she seemed a bit eager to get out of the house.
We hadn’t be out on a date since her birthday, and I’d pretty much ruined that night for her so in a way I wanted to make it up to her. I wanted to redeem myself.
“I know this place.” She spoke, glancing around as I handed off my keys to the valet.
“What you know about it?” I replied, moving my hand towards her lower back as we walked.
“We used to come here – a lot.”
She looked at me, rolling her eyes. “You know we did. Why do you do that?”
“What I did?” I fought my smile as her scowl deepened.
“You ask questions and shit when you know the truth. You just wanna see what I know before I speak.”
“True.” I laughed. “Tell me what you know?”
Her telling me of her good memories always made me happy. The paint she used to craft the images was always fresh and vivid. The colors were saturated and the hues always worked to inject me with joy.
She chewed her lip and shrugged. “Not much. You get the short rib and I like those little fried rice poppers.”
She grinned up at me. “Yeah.”
“It’s been so long since we come.”
We hadn’t come to this restaurant since we were on good terms. It had been well over a year, maybe two. This place had been somewhere we frequented a couple times a month and I was really hoping to start again.
“It smells so good,” She moaned as soon as we stepped into the warm establishment. “And it’s crowded – as usual.” She muttered, glancing around at the many people standing and waiting to be seated.
“I know.” I sighed. I’d had a taste for this place and knew Marlee would enjoy it but the wait that would take place didn’t really work with my hunger. “I go put us on the list.”
“Marlee… Larry?” The calling of our names and the familiarity of the voice was enough to make me turn around.
“Iris?” I knew it was her. The curiosity in my voice was faux, however the fear in my heart was real.
“Yeah,” She confirmed and the only thing that kept me from fleeing was Marlee’s solid stance and firm grip on my hand.
I could almost feel her curiosity radiating off of her body but I knew she wouldn’t say anything. She would wait until she was acknowledged.
“It’s been so long – too long since I’ve seen you guys.” She smiled a genuine smile. It consumed her entire face, making her glow.
I too wore a smile only it stopped at my lips.
“Oh my goodness! Marlee, you look amazing?!” My heart stopped when she addressed my wife.
“Thank you,” She smiled even as her eyes briefly darted to me.
I fought not to laugh at her confusion. She was doing a good job at masking it but I saw it.
Her fingers gripped mine tighter and I knew she was asking for a clue, a prompt, something… but I had nothing. The only thing I possessed in this moment was anxiety.
Iris was probably one of the only people we knew that didn’t know about Marlee’s condition. We hadn’t seen her in years and needless to say, a ton had happened.
I’d done well with informing everyone we knew that Marlee had suffered a head injury, resulting in amnesia. I’d combed through her call log and emails but Iris wasn’t on either list. She was merely an acquaintance but deep down I knew that if we didn’t leave now she would end up playing a much larger role in our lives than I needed her to.
“How’s your baby boy?” My heart stopped, and then exploded. “He has to be at least,” She paused, making it evident that she was counting. “Two by now? Yeah because my daughter is about to be two,”
I could feel each and every cell in Marlee’s body freeze. I was scared to look at her but I had to.
As soon as I caught her eyes I regretted looking. There was a neutral expression on her face, proving how good of an actress she was but no amount of acting could hide he anguish in her eyes. She was crumbling before my very eyes but somehow managing to stay upright.
“And I can’t believe how flat your tummy is. Mya destroyed my body.” Iris rambled on, oblivious to the detriment she was summoning.
I watched sadly as Marlee glanced down at her bared stomach. Her fingers followed her eyes , tracing over the space that once occupied our future. She looked devastated and it killed me.
With each second that passed her will to put on an Oscar worthy performance faded. Her pain was seeping through, proving that she was strong but not invincible.
“I–“ Marlee started only to stop.
Iris failed to notice my wife’s state. She was distracted and a quick glance in the direction that she was looking in explained exactly why.
“Xavier, look who’s here!” She spoke excitedly to her husband.
To my fortune he was distracted with the little pig-tail wearing girl in his arms. My stomach dropped and my eyes darted to Marlee who already had her eyes pinned to the toddler.
“I’m so sorry, Iris. We run so late. We have to go.” I rambled the lie, pulling Marlee away from the scene before it worsened.
I caught the shock on Iris’ face but ignored it. Explaining was pointless, as she wasn’t important. The only think that mattered right now was making sure that my wife hadn’t been impacted too much by the surprise blow.
“You nervous for nothing.” He peered down at me. And through his stoic façade I was able to quickly spot the same anxiety that was infesting my every fiber.
I said nothing. Instead I nodded, giving him what he needed just as he was doing for me.
I needed him to be strong and he needed me to believe him. We were both doing the impossible.
“You look pretty,” He complimented, watching as I bathed my lips with a peach gloss was closer to clear than anything.
“Thank you, baby.” I smiled, watching him through the mirror.
I certainly didn’t feel pretty but I wouldn’t make the mistake of telling him that. If I did he’d bend over backwards, trying to make me believe that I was the most gorgeous woman in the world. He always did.
“You ready?” He quizzed as I brushed my hair out of my face.
It’d been straightened earlier in the week but was now reverting back to its natural state. It wasn’t the cutest but I didn’t have the time to tackle it.
“What’s wrong?” Larry peered at me from the driver’s seat.
I sighed, wishing the visual in my mind hadn’t been cut short. Where had we been going? Why had I been nervous?
“Nothing.” I looked in his direction, finding that his eyes were already on me.
His awareness didn’t shock me – he was always watching me. And, even when he wasn’t he still knew when something was hindering me. It was as if he could feel what I felt.
Our connection is what made me resent him the most. The fact that he knew how emotionally connected we were and still decided to hurt me killed me.
I told myself not to take it personally. I told myself that he’d acted out because he was afraid. I told myself that he really did loved me but didn’t know how to express it due to our jagged past.
However, I did take it personally, and maybe he was afraid but so was I.
I was terrified of not only the fact that he was all I had but of the concept of me exhausting myself, giving him all of me only for him to change his mind because he couldn’t let go of the past.
He opened his mouth and then paused. I watched as his hand moved to my thigh, massaging in circular motions. The movement was meant to bring comfort. However the comfort wasn’t for me but for him.
He was wound up. Tension was bleeding from his pores and tainting the car with its putrid scent.
“Larry,” I called, coaxing him to relax.
“I’m so sorry,” The last words I’d wanted to hear tumbled from his mouth. “I not know we were gonna see her and she say that and–“
“How do we know her?” His rambling was making my head ache.
“Umm,” My hand moved to his, massaging. It was for his comfort, not mine. “She live next door to us. She move because her army husband was stationed in Germany.” I huffed out. “You two were pregnant at the same time – that was her husband, and baby you see.”
“Oh.” I chewed my lip. “That’s nice.”
She’d had a baby, a healthy one named Mya and all I had was bitter memories and a pistachio painted room. It sucked.
“That’s nice.” I repeated, willing myself not to be envious.
“So?” I pressed impatiently.
“Baby,” Larry murmured, cutting his eyes at me and squeezing my head simultaneously. “Calme-toi.”
“It’s fine.” Cool laughter filled the room. “I understand your impatience, Mrs. Bourgeois.”
I kissed my teeth when all I received was a nod and again Larry squeezed my head, willing me to relax.
Nothing about the situation was relaxing. It was scary and nerve wrecking. It was mind numbing and sent a brutal chill down my spine. It made my head ache and eyes water.
“I’m not.” I swore, peering up at him from my supine position.
He wiped at my cheek, saturating his finger tips in the process. “Menteur.” (Liar)
“Sorry.” I whispered, watching as he brought my hand up to his lips.
The feeling of his lips brushing against my knuckles brought a smile to my face. Happiness folded itself within me forcing the clouds of sadness away.
“We good.” He swore, and I believed him. “Je promets.” (I promise) His voice was bright and mellifluous. It was perfect and exactly what I needed right now.
“Looks like we have a healthy baby boy.” The doctor finally spoke, completing the duet to my happiness.
“I’m not naming my son after my brother.” His expression was one of disgust and his voice was stern.
“Why not, baby? It’s such a nice name. I’ve always liked it.” I forked the last of my bûche de Noël into my mouth.
He shook his head defiantly. “There’s plenty of other nice names, Chink.”
“But that was is special.” I grinned, thinking of my brother-in-law.
“We name him Laurent we may as well name him Larry.”
It was my turn to frown. “They don’t even sound the same.”
“I know.” He spoke, wearing a straight face. “The only man my son get named after need to be me.“
“Larry is an old man name,” I grimaced then cackled when he gasped out.
“How you not like my name?” He was genuinely offended. “I make you moan it all the time.”
I smirked, wordlessly agreeing. That he did but it didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t naming my son Larry.
“Larry is like an uncle name.” I spoke after a few silent seconds.
His expression was a thoughtful one that morphed into humor. “I am somebody uncle so maybe this true.”
“Maybe Ian.” I suggested, moving my legs from the floor to his lap. “My feet are so fat.”
He glanced at my edema plagued feet but chose not to respond to my complaint. He was smart. Or just really good at this by now.
I sighed as he ran his hand along the tops of my feet and whimpered when he began to massage. His hands were a true gift from god. Not only had they aided in getting me pregnant but they eased the discomfort that came with being pregnant. I was forever grateful.
“Ian.” He repeated, only he managed to pulverize the pronunciation. “That can’t be the name.”
“Because I can’t even say it.”
"Cinq,” Her voice warmed the entire room and drew my attention to the door where she stood.
“Est-ce tout va bien?” (is everything alright)
“Ouais,” I nodded. “Je suis fatiguée. J'en sais pas pourquoi. Je passe mes journées à dormer.” (I’m tired. I don’t know why. I spend my days sleeping.)
I hated the sense of uselessness I felt. There wasn’t much I could do for myself, throwing my independence out the window. It was frustrating to go from being completely and totally self-sufficient to being dependant on people for even the simplest things.
I’d been put on bed rest and when I did actually try to be active I found it to be extremely uncomfortable. Things that I used to do with ease were now nearly impossible.
So here I was, seven months pregnant and in Paris – my favorite city. Yet, instead of scouting new spots to photograph or eating at my favorite restaurants I was being babysat by my mother-in-law.
It was frustrating but I knew better than to not abide by the doctor’s orders. My first pregnancy and it’s empty results had left me more paranoid than ever. I wanted this one to be healthy and easy. But life didn’t work that way.
I was diagnosed with preeclampsia a month ago when I finally saw my doctor about the headaches and swelling I was plagued with.
I’d been doomed, having not understood what I’d done wrong to have such a rare condition. I ate well, I exercised and I didn’t dare do anything too strenuous but here I was with an unhealthy pregnancy.
My doctor assured me that preeclampsia was something hundreds of thousands of women lived with but that information had failed to make me feel better.
And my research only dug me further into my worries.
The more I read the more afraid I became. Unfortunately for me, my fear worked in Larry’s favor. My fear made me cower instead of being my usual determined self.
Bed rest, diet changes and high blood pressure pills seemed to be all my life was consumed with lately. It was every bit of depressing but I told myself that as long as my child was healthy, and he was, that I would be fine.
“ J'ai cuisine,” (I cooked.) Her smile was warm and meant for my comfort. "Je sais que vous avez faim.” (I know you’re hungry.)
"Qu'est-ce que tu cuisines?” (What did you cook?)
"Quelque chose que mon garçon vous dire de ne pas avoir.” (Something that My boy would tell you not to have) Her sweet smile morphed into a mischievous one.
"Vous allez nous obtenir à la fois en difficulté.” (You’re going to get us both in trouble.) I warned even as waves of excitement rolled through my body.
I’d been here for over a week and I’d yet to experience the foods I truly desired. Larry was borderline militant when it came to my health. For the most part I didn’t mind. In fact, it made me love him more for caring enough about the health of me and our unborn son. But there were days when I felt extremely sensitive and hated everything about him.
On those days he was no longer my loving husband but my personal tormenter. To Larry’s fortune those days were rare. He hated it when I cried and would often promise to give me anything I wanted to satiate me – everything but potato chips, the one thing I desired most.
“Je sais,” (I know) She smirked. “Viens en bas.” (Come down)
“I’m coming.” I sighed, shifting my huge body on the bed. “I have to pee.”
She sighed out dramatically before heading to the door. ”Se dépêcher!” (Hurry up)
“Yeah, yeah.” I muttered when she was gone.
I took my time standing. As usual I felt tired and overworked when I should have felt well rested and energized. I slept more than a newborn yet whenever I moved around I felt as though I’d ran three triathlons.
I took my time in the bathroom. My quick visit to the toilette turned into me unbraiding my hair, filling in my brows and putting on lip gloss. I felt so ugly these days that I found myself doing any little thing to rid of my constant ashy appearance.
To my surprise and dismay Larry still treated me as though looked like Beyoncé. Sometimes it worked to lift my spirits but majority of the time I felt as though he was patronizing me.
I left the bathroom with a frown. There was nothing I could do to make myself look like the goddess I wanted to be so I decided not to waste any more time on the concept.
I eyed the steps with trepidation, wishing there was some way I could magically teleport to the first floor. My laziness was astounding but I tried not to beat myself up about it. I told myself it was directly linked to the preeclampsia.
“What you wait for, Bob Marlee?” Lau peered up at me from his spot on the first floor.
“For you to carry me.” I whined. “Nevemind. You’ll need like a crane or something.”
“Shut up.” He laughed as I moved down a few steps at a pace that would cause old ladies to snicker. “You not even that big.”
“Key word that.” I sighed. I didn’t have it in me to cop at attitude about his lack of tact. He wasn’t Larry, he didn’t care about my attitude.
The ache in my lower back forced my steps down the stairs to come to a slow. This shit is for the birds, I thought annoyed by all the ailments I was facing with this difficult ass pregnancy. If it wasn’t headaches it was severely swollen feet and limbs or backaches or random moments of blurred vision. It was all too damn much.
I took a deep breath, grasping the railing to support my weight as I stepped down. As soon as I moved forward my grip on the banister became no more, sending me teetering.
"Bob!” Lau exploded into action, halting my tumble.
My eyes were wide and heart was racing as I looked to him. I hadn’t even realized he’d moved from his spot, as I’d been so consumed with my internal complaints about what my son was putting me through.
I silently thanked God for his agility and speed because he’d saved me from a nasty fall. There were more than a few stairs separating me from the ground floor right now, making me wince at the imagery of what would have happened had my brother not saved the day.
“You okay?” Concern was the pinned against his face and oozing from his eyes.
I cursed silently, knowing he would tell Larry about this incident. I could see it now, them moving me to a bedroom on the first floor, everyone watching over me like a hawk – hell, Larry would probably order me a Hoveround. The thought made me cringe.
“Yeah,” I inhaled a hefty breath. That slip had scared me, sending my nerves into panic mode. “Because of the pregnancy I have carpal tunnel syndrome in my right hand and— AHH!”
A pain consumed my entire being before concentrating itself in my abdomen. “Fuc – what the fuck.”
I doubled over, holding onto Lau’s forearm as a few harsh breaths exploded from my lips. The pain was excruciating. It was hot and blazed a fire down to my bones. It was sharp and stabbed at each nerve individually.
“Bob!” His voice was muffled due to the cloud that was my pain but panic was blatant. “Marlee, what happen?”
“It hurts.” I managed through clinched teeth. It felt like acid was being pumped through my veins.
“Your labor happen right now?”
“No!” I gasped as million air knifes pierced my abdomen. “Ahh!”
“Marlee, please tell me what happen – maman!!!” His energy was shifting as he lost his will to hold it together. I needed Larry – no matter what he stayed calm.
“Pourquoi tu cries dans ma maison?!” (Why are you yelling in my house?) Her voice was drenched in annoyance. “Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?” (What happened?) But it quickly shifted to panic.
I heard the steps creak under her weight as she raced up them as fast as her legs would warrant her. I wanted to warn her to be careful, she’d just fallen a few weeks ago, but my words were engulfed by my pain.
“Ce qui ne va pas?!” (What’s wrong?) She was inches away now. “Cinq!”
In rapid French I heard Laurent tell her that the baby was coming but that was the furthest from the truth. It was far too early. I wasn’t due to be induced for another 7 weeks.
“It’s too early,” I struggled through a heavy breath. “Too early.”
“Nous avons besoin de se rendre à l'hôpital.” (We need to get to the hospital)
A million thoughts went through my head. I thought of how I would contact my doctor back in the states. I thought of the fact that we hadn’t chosen a name yet. But my loudest thought was pertaining to Larry’s absence in this moment.
“Call Larry!” I screamed through the waves of my anguish. “My baby – my baby!”
“Larry, what did you do?!” I wailed.
“What did you doooo??” My voice was shrill and full of every bit of the panic I felt.
“Mar–“ I was in front of him before he could finish whatever he planned to say.
My blow stunned him, stuttering his movements and making my next swing successful. “You had no right!”
I swung just as fast as the tears rushed out of my eyes. My heart was racing even in its crippled state. My head was aching and my body was sore – and empty.
“Baby,” He tried to calm me but still I swung, clipping his chin. “Fuck.” He hissed before successfully confining my wrists in his grip.
Without the use of my hands I put my legs to work, kicking in an effort to free myself from his grip.
“Stop!” He yelled at me, exchanging my wrists for my forearms. “You make you stitches break!”
His words were a warning that instantly reminded me of the sharp pain residing in my lower half. My lower body stung and throbbed but that pain was no comparison to the ache I felt in my every nerve, to the detriment Larry’s declaration had wrecked my entire body with.
With a sudden burst of strength I broke free from his hold, stumbling to maintain my stance. “Please calm down, baby.”
His words only flooded already raging flames with fuel. I swung again and then again, trying to break his chest in half, trying to access his heart so that I could stomp all over it just like he’d done mine.
“That was my baby!” I voiced the root of my angst with a roar. “My child – my future.”
“And mine too!” He snapped back, taking my punches without flinching.
“No! It was my choice, it’s my body!” I was trapped in his hold again.
His touch burned straight through my flesh to the marrow tucked away in my bones. Never did I think that him touching me would hurt but it did. In a matter of hours he’d managed to go from the love of my life to my enemy. He’d done the worst thing imaginable to me and I couldn’t believe it.
“How could you?” I rasped. “How could you, Larry?”
My body was sagging in his hold now. I was weak and achy and tired. I was broken – there was no way I could stand straight.
“I love you, Chink. And, I do what I think is best. I–“
“No!” Fire followed the word. It felt like acid but I’d experience worse, I was currently experiencing worse. “It wasn’t for the best!”
“I would have lost you. They say you can die!” He reminded me of what the doctors had told him as I slipped out of consciousness. “And I can never lose you. Never.”
“That was my baby, Lar.” I whimpered, falling out in his arms.
He supported my weight with ease and when I was steady, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “I love you too much to ever lose you, Marlee.” A kiss and then another followed his words. “I love you so much, baby. And, I’m so sorry.”
I’d lost count of the kisses he planted on my face. I was numb. His touch didn’t matter. His words didn’t matter. He’d taken the only thing from me that mattered.
“Why didn’t you save the baby?!” My anger separated us with a shove that sent him stumbling back.
“I don’t care!” I roared.
I felt dead now, how couldn’t he understand that.
He shook his head. “I couldn’t lose you.” And continued on with his selfish declaration.
“You took all I had. You took him from me–“ My voice cracked as the words fell into the silent room.
He stepped forward, reaching for me. “Don’t touch me.” I warned. “Don’t ever touch me.”
I watched him crack in half before me but it brought no satisfaction.
“I hate you,” I hissed as tears drenched my face.
And he withered away to nothingness before for my tear glazed eyes.
He felt what I felt, and the satisfaction was the most bitter thing I’d ever tasted.
i hate everything about you.
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