Fated Lovers

by Holly Rayner

  “No. At least, she hasn’t said anything like that to my knowledge.” Mia’s throat tightened at the mere suggestion of terminating her pregnancy. “I think it’s really just about the marriage—about him not marrying me.” She exhaled slowly. “I think if he decided to just…pay me off? His mom would probably be okay with that.”

  “But she hasn’t said she wants the baby?”

  “Why would she want it? I’m a commoner.”

  “You’re as royal as her son is, honey” Amie pointed out. Mia laughed in spite of herself.

  “Yeah, but he’s got a name. I don’t.”

  “You have a name! Mia Campbell is a name.” Amie cried.

  “And I’m proud to have it,” Mia replied, with more than a little affection in her voice. “But it doesn’t mean a thing to Rami’s parents, even if it’s important to me.”

  “What are you going to do if tries to just pay you off?”

  Mia bit her bottom lip, for a moment unable to answer the question. “Curse his ever-loving soul, first of all,” she said, shifting on the couch against her aching back. “Then take the money and figure out a new career for myself, I suppose. If he wants to pay me off, he’s going to pay me way, way more than he would have for being his surrogate.” Mia pressed her lips together. “But right now I’d rather just believe that he wouldn’t make that choice in a million years.”

  “You know him better than I do,” Amie said comfortingly. Mia agreed, but she wasn’t entirely sure how well she knew this new, more distant side of Rami. Rather than worry her mother about it, however, she changed the subject, insisting that she could—and would—go to the doctors’ appointments with her during the week. Eventually, worn down, Mia’s mother relented and agreed to let Mia pick her up.

  THREE

  The sound of Rami arriving home brought Mia jolting out of a deep sleep. She heard the metallic clatter of keys hitting the floor, followed by Rami cursing. Mia frowned and looked around the room until her gaze found the digital clock on the wall. It was three in the morning; was Rami only just getting home from his latest drive?

  It had been three weeks since their meeting with Rami’s mother, and Mia had reminded herself, over and over again, that Rami loved her, and that she had to be patient with him. At first Rami would only be away from the house for an hour or two, and Mia had thought it was a good thing; the drives gave him the time to think about things, space away from her and her developing pregnancy to be a little more objective. But over the weeks since the ultimatum was spelled out for him, Rami’s “drives” had gotten longer and longer.

  He had left that afternoon at four; unless he had come home at some point while Mia had been asleep, Rami had been away for almost twelve hours. That was not an absence that Mia could just brush aside. She heard the clatter of Rami’s keys hitting the floor again and nearly got up from the couch to go to unlock the door herself, rather than listen to him struggle with his keys for a moment longer.

  It was obvious to Mia, even before she heard Rami finally get the key in the lock, that her lover—her fiancé—was drunk. Please God, tell me he didn’t drive home like that. Tell me he left his car parked somewhere, and he’s going to get someone to drive it back tomorrow morning. Mia heard the lock turn over and closed her eyes, pretending to still be at least sleeping lightly as the door opened.

  Rami’s footsteps were heavy. Mia cringed as she listened to his unsteady, wavering progress from the front door and through the entryway and kitchen. He came into the living room and her pregnancy-sensitive nose caught the pungent, bitter-sharp smell of alcohol on him as he came near.

  Mia swallowed, cuddling against one of the throw pillows, keeping her eyes closed. Rami’s hot, alcohol-reeking breath poured down on her face from above. His lips brushed her temple, and then in the next moment Mia heard her lover unsteadily making his way towards the bedroom. How many times does that make this week? Mia frowned, her stomach twisting into knots inside of her. She felt a flutter a little lower—but it was impossible to know if it was the baby kicking, or some other kind of movement that she just wasn’t used to.

  Mia counted mentally. Monday he was sober—I think. Tuesday he came in…and he was acting normal, but when he kissed me, he tasted like whiskey. Wednesday he managed to get home before midnight… Thursday, he reeked of vodka. And now this. Mia sighed, burying her face against the couch cushions. She wanted to be patient; she wanted to give Rami the space he needed to come to terms with the situation with his parents. But she knew also that the solution to his upset was not in any kind of bottle. No amount of drinking was going to make the situation go away, and forgetting about it for a few hours wasn’t going to help the man Mia loved come to terms with it. “If Mom knew how he was acting right now, I don’t know that she’d approve any more than his mom approves of me,” Mia mused in a whisper to herself.

  Mia didn’t know what to do. She wanted to get up, walk into the bedroom and give Rami a good shake, tell him to stop acting like a spoiled brat and start acting like a man who was going to be a father in a handful of months. She wanted to hold him tightly and tell him to cry it out, telling him that she would be there for him. She wanted to tell him that if he didn’t straighten up, she was going to leave. She wanted to beg him to stop with his self-destructive behavior.

  Give him time. Just a little more time. Mia pulled the blanket tighter around her, grateful at least that Rami hadn’t tried to “awaken” her to cajole her into going to bed with him. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but at least she wouldn’t have to deal with drunken Rami there. With the deep aches in her bones, especially her back, Mia didn’t want to consider getting up until she absolutely had to. She had hoped that the morning sickness would be the worst thing she had to contend with during her pregnancy, but apparently she had been wrong.

  The doctors said that everything was as it should be, which Mia supposed was the best she could do. But she couldn’t help feeling, at least a little bit, like Rami’s self-pitying descent into alcohol couldn’t have come at a worse time. It wasn’t fair; she needed him, and the baby did, too. Mia needed Rami to be the supportive presence he had been to her right up until they got engaged; to be the bolster and anchor that he had been before she’d become pregnant and his parents had rejected their engagement.

  At the same time, Mia knew that she couldn’t rush the man she loved into giving up his binges. She clenched her teeth and tried to fall back into the sleep that Rami’s noisy entrance into the apartment had interrupted. Maybe, if she was lucky, he would be passed out in bed and she would be able to get another six or so hours. And then maybe the next morning she would feel like a human being once more; able to face another day of her fiancé’s issues, her exhausting pregnancy, and her mother’s uncertain health. And then maybe I’ll figure out how to achieve peace between Israel and Palestine, end famine around the world, and nobody will ever want to go to war again, Mia thought facetiously.

  “He’ll get over it, he just needs more time,” Mia told herself in a whisper. She heard Rami moving around in the bedroom, and pictured him stripping off his clothes and throwing them carelessly across the room. They had a housekeeper, but Mia preferred to keep the bedroom as neat as possible, even if the woman came three times a week to clean it and everything else. Mia shifted on the couch again, torn between wanting to cuddle up to Rami in their bed together and not wanting to have to deal with him in his current state.

  Sleep was eluding her, and her mind drifted back to a conversation earlier in the day. Just after Rami had gone out, she had had another almost-fight with her mother. Mia had called to confirm that she would be picking up Amie to get some errands done.

  “You should be getting rest, Mia. You look exhausted every time I see you.”

  “That’s because I am exhausted,” Mia had replied matter-of-factly. “Growing a baby isn’t exactly easy on the body, you know.”

  “So why don’t you relax at home or just come over to visit? Do
n’t keep putting yourself out for me. I hate feeling like I’m a burden on you when you’re already under so much physical stress.”

  “You’re not a burden on me,” Mia had insisted. “I love you. I want to spend time with you and take care of you! If I really couldn’t do it, you know I’d stay home.”

  “Oh so that groan when you get out of the chair at the doctor’s office is nothing? And the fact that your back is killing you and you still help me get into the car?”

  “My back is killing me whether I lie down, sit down, or stand up, Mom. It’s pretty much a constant; helping you into the car isn’t making anything worse.”

  “What’s the real reason that you’re spending so much time helping me? You know I’ve got plenty of help from the neighbors.”

  “I just don’t like being by myself,” Mia had admitted. “Rami’s spending more and more time away from home…and even when he is here, he’s in his office.”

  “He needs to get his head screwed on right,” Amie had told Mia. “You need to talk to him about this. I know you want to give him time, and let him ‘process’ or whatever word you want to use for it, but it’s been almost a month. He needs to shake himself out of it and be there for you.”

  “I know,” Mia had said, guiltily realizing that she was burdening her mother with her problems. “He’s just…”

  “I don’t really want to hear you making excuses for him, Mia,” her mother had replied. “I know you love him, and I can see that he loves you, but if he’s going to be a father, he needs to learn how to put someone else’s needs before his wants. Promise me that you’ll talk to him.”

  “I promise, Mom.”

  Mia had waited and waited for Rami to come home. She had cooked one of his favorite meals and eaten it alone, packing the leftovers into the fridge in case he was hungry when he finally did return from wherever it was he had gone.

  Mia knew that Rami’s drinking wasn’t exactly a new thing. As much as she didn’t want to believe it, she had to admit that it must have started when his parents gave him the ultimatum. It was getting worse, and Mia wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She tossed and turned on the couch, turning the problem over in her mind, wishing that she had the nerve to approach Rami about it. I’ll talk to him about it over breakfast. No matter how late he comes in, he’s always up for breakfast. I’ll let him get some coffee in him and then we’ll talk about what’s going on.

  FOUR

  Despite what she told herself as she lay awake on the couch, another month passed before Mia could bring herself to address the issue of Rami’s drinking. On the morning she had planned to confront him, Rami had risen before her and had had her favorite breakfast waiting on the table by the time she awoke. Mia told herself that it would be cruel of her to confront him after he’d tried to make it up to her.

  Mia’s compulsion to inevitably start a row had gradually waned, until she found herself once more sleeping alone. This time at least, she had made it into the bed they shared, instead of staying on the couch. It had been a difficult week, and the thick, body-cradling mattress and plump pillows had been hard to resist. She curled up, hoping against hope that when she woke up in the morning, she would find the dull, throbbing ache in her back, ankles, hips—all of it—gone. It was almost time for her next ultrasound visit, and Mia was excited at the prospect of seeing the baby larger, more clearly defined in the images. She wished she could believe that Rami was as excited about it as she was.

  Mia counted on being awakened by her fiancé at some time in the night, but when she swam up into consciousness the next morning, feeling a little refreshed but still achy, she realized Rami wasn’t in bed next to her, as he always normally was. Oh God. What if he’s been in an accident? She hauled herself out of bed and darted through the bedroom as quickly as her heavy body would allow, plunging into the living room and looking around for any sign that Rami had come in only to leave once more.

  Everything was exactly as she had left it when she’d gone to bed the night before. Mia swallowed against the tight feeling in her throat, hurrying to the desk where she’d left her phone plugged in to charge. She unlocked the screen but there were no missed calls from anyone. “If something had happened to him, someone would have called, wouldn’t they?”

  She racked her brain for who she could contact to find out if Rami had somehow been hurt—or worse—without her being notified. His parents weren’t an option; Mia thought Rami’s mother would rather eat glass than tell Mia anything about her son. Mia had met a few of Rami’s friends but she didn’t know any of them well enough to have their numbers saved in her phone. “Shit, shit, shit,” Mia said, sinking down into the chair at the desk. Her laptop was in front of her—she could at least do a quick search and see if there had been any reports, couldn’t she?

  Mia took a deep breath, steeling herself against the possibility of bad news. If Rami had been in an accident, or been arrested for a DUI, there would have had to have been a report of some kind. Mia pulled up a blotter report for the county and started to scroll through it, her heart hammering in her chest. Her gaze flitted over the different entries, but not all of them had names attached to them. She read through the descriptions, trying to figure out if any of the victims or perpetrators sounded like the man she loved. As she came to the end of the list for the previous twenty-four hours, Mia had to conclude that if Rami had gotten into some kind of incident, it wasn’t in their county.

  “What could have happened to him?” Mia felt her eyes stinging as tears began to form. “Did he just decide to sleep it off somewhere else?” Somehow the thought hurt. Mia reached down and cradled her hands under the firm bulge at her abdomen. She tried to think, though it felt more and more like her heart was going to pound its way out of her chest. Calm down, Mia. Deep breaths. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly, counting to three on each inhale and exhale. After a few moments, she felt her heart begin to slow, and the sense that the world was spinning entirely too fast began to go away. “I’ll go outside and see which of his cars is gone,” she told herself.

  Mia slipped her feet into a pair of slippers and wrapped a robe around herself, not wanting to wander around outside in just her nightgown. The door was locked—just as she’d left it—and Mia turned the deadbolt, telling herself again and again that there was no reason to panic. No news was good news, after all. She opened the door and turned to head towards the garage where Rami kept his cars.

  Mia didn’t get beyond the front steps as her foot collided with something and she nearly toppled forward, flailing her arms around to try and regain her balance. Curled up just in front of the welcome mat, Rami lay passed out on the patio, a thin line of drool hanging from his mouth. Mia stared in shock, absorbing the sight of the man she loved, unconscious in front of their home. His keys were in his hand, and his clothes—normally sharply ironed, perfectly tailored, and immaculate—were rumpled, sweaty-looking, and dirty from the floor.

  As Mia stared down at her fiancé, her shock dissolved into fear; if he had been drunk enough to not make it inside, he might have drunk enough to give himself alcohol poisoning. Mia sank down with an effort and reached out to feel the pulse at the side of Rami’s jaw. He was breathing more or less normally, and his pulse against her fingers felt slow, but not so slow to cause her alarm.

  Mia pulled herself up with a groan, and her fear shifted into anger. Not only had Rami gone out and gotten drunk, but he had gotten himself so drunk that he couldn’t get into the house at the end of it. “If he drove home like that, I am going to rip him a new hole somewhere on his body,” Mia said bitterly. She exhaled sharply, feeling the baby stir inside of her in response to the rapid shift of emotions. For just a moment, the