“It’s true. Why would I lie about this? But we aren’t together. It’s not like we were seeing each other,” I tell him, in my defense.
“You’re not together. You’re with me,” he responds bitterly, spitting out his words in haste.
Clearly I was stupid in thinking that being pregnant with his cousin’s baby was not an automatic breakup. Not being accustomed to this possessive side of him, I choose my words carefully, not wanting to rub salt into his very open wound.
“Marcus. We had our fun but the reality is, I’m going to be a mother. My priority is raising this baby.”
The Jerk crosses his arms in silence, waiting for a reaction. I look in his direction, goading some sort of help from him to save me from this uncomfortable situation. Nothing of course, even when Marcus reaches for the bottle of bourbon from the cupboard and drinks it straight from the bottle.
He wipes he mouth with the back of his hand. “Why the fuck did you both tell me nothing went on?”
I glance aside, avoiding the Jerk. “Because it was nothing. A drunken mistake.”
“Well, it’s not nothing since you’re having a baby together!” He slams his fist against the countertop. Ouch! It looks painful, but nothing in Marcus’s expression, aside from pure hatred, makes me think he feels a single thing.
Looking much like death himself, the Jerk is dressed in all black, and if one didn’t know his life was turned upside-down less than twenty-four hours ago, you would think he was attending a funeral. Maybe it was a funeral, a farewell to his carefree life of no responsibilities and only having to worry about himself.
Finally, the Jerk steps in. “Back off, Marcus. This is hard on all of us.”
Marcus jumps to his feet and stumbles to where Haden is standing. Head on, Marcus sways the bottle, taking another swig and throwing it into the sink behind him. The sound of the glass smashing startles me and I know shit is about to get real.
With shaky hands, Marcus latches onto Haden’s shirt and presses against him.
“You fucking knew she was with me. You fucking knew I loved her!” He almost spits into Haden’s face.
Being somewhat sober gives Haden the advantage and he pushes Marcus off, watching him fall backward. I reach out to help him up, and with a shrill, he laughs as he wraps his arms around me.
“Get rid of it. You can have another baby with me. We’re in love. We can get married if you want. Just get rid of it,” he demands, in a calm yet dominant tone.
Shocked at the harshness of his words, I set the record straight once and for all. “I’m seventeen weeks along. If that was what I wanted, no one would make that decision for me,” I angrily yell at him, annoyed at his lack of morals and willingness to voice them. “I don’t expect you to understand but it is happening, whether you like it or not.”
“Of course I don’t fucking like it! I love you and this is how you repay me?”
Did he really just say those words? This is getting worse by the minute. Marcus has no clue what love is. Love to him is mind-blowing orgasms at night followed by a morning blowjob. I don’t know how else to spell it out for him without being the wicked witch and breaking his heart.
Kitty is the wicked witch. Dressed in her black dress, albeit lacy and slutty, holding a broomstick and wearing a pointy hat. Her wretched laugh is echoing through the room, hauntingly disturbing as she grabs some popcorn and watches the show.
“Put yourself in my shoes for a second. I’m raising this baby alone. I’m terrified. I didn’t purposely do this to hurt you.”
Marcus turns to face Haden with an arctic glare. “You’re not even helping her?”
“Back the fuck off. Let me deal with this shit,” Haden warns him.
I sit in silence, listening to the argument unfold before me. Like a strong force gravitating me towards my stomach, I rest my palms on top of the baby. Suddenly, the protector instinct kicks in and I can no longer sit here and listen to what is being said about this tiny human growing inside me.
“Now the baby is ‘shit’?” As I raise my voice above the incessant noise, they both stop and turn to face me. I grab my purse and hop off the stool. I think about saying a few final words but instead, leave their apartment and the mess behind me.
Turning the corner amongst the other pedestrians, my cell vibrates and I contemplate reading the text. Whoever it is can wait. Finding myself a small café a few blocks down, I order myself a tea and the most expensive chocolate cake that ever existed. It is a slice of heaven and exactly what I need at a moment where alcohol isn’t an option.
I try calling Vicky but she is MIA, so then I call my sister Gemma. We have a long chat about everything and by the end she reminds me again that she will always be there to help me and the baby, even suggesting I move to California.
After hanging up the call, I sit for a long time thinking about my options. In five months I will have a baby to raise. Maybe moving to California isn’t such a bad idea. I need help (despite having too much pride to ask for it) and I need to consider what future I want for my baby. Even though I love the city, it may not be the best place to settle down. A child needs a home, not a shoebox apartment, which is all I can afford at this moment.
In the midst of this train of thought, there is Jason to consider. It seems like common courtesy to tell him I was pregnant, but every time I attempt to type a message or even make that call, my body will start to dry heave. One goddamn problem at a time, and he is perhaps the least of my worries.
Back at home, I avoid reading that text and dive into some housework. Cranking up the music as loud as my neighbors will tolerate, I grab a bucket and some gloves to do some major scrubbing on my bathroom tiles. When I can practically see my reflection, I decide to take a long shower and climb into bed with a good book. I keep reading the same line over and over again, and I know that I have to read that text because it’s eating away at me.
#Jerk: I didn’t mean it. This is a lot.