Clinched

by Nikki Ash

  And what about the innocent baby stuck in the middle of all this?

  “Hey,” she whispers. “How long have you been here?”

  I farther walk into the room, the door shutting behind me. “Just a few minutes. We need to talk.”

  She says okay and allows me to say what I need to say.

  “I know there’s nothing between us and I finally accept that, and while I am pissed you kept her paternity from me, I want you to come home. I want you to raise her in our apartment. I don’t trust Marco. He just got out of rehab. What if he relapses?”

  “I’m moving back home,” she says, and I sigh in relief.

  “Good,” I reply, relieved we’re in agreement.

  “No, I don’t think you understand. I am moving back home…to Las Vegas. My parents are going to help me raise Micaela. I want to finish school. I didn’t understand how important it was until I had her. I need to make sure I can provide for her. I want to train as well. I can’t move back in with you. It’s not fair to you.”

  “Bella...”

  “No, Tristan. You are one of the most selfless people I know. You’ve been my best friend for as far back as I can remember. You have always put me first but I’m not going to let you do this. You deserve to be happy, to find love, to have a damn life. I never should’ve put you in this position. I’m so sorry.”

  I drop my head, sadness engulfing me over the sobering realization I’m about to lose my best friend.

  Marco wakes up and hears all of this. We get into an argument over Bella’s wellbeing, but in the end Bella makes it clear she’ll decide her future.

  Then Marco says something that has the room feeling like it’s spinning around me. “Look at the bright side. Now you and Gina can be together.” I look at him with confusion. Does he know we hooked up last night?

  “What the fuck does Gina have to do with this?”

  “She’s the one who told me about the baby, that she’s mine.”

  “What did you just say?” I ask slowly, trying to wrap my still half-drunken head around what he’s implying.

  “She came to me three months ago and said I was the father. She showed me a letter Bella wrote to Micaela and it stated I was the dad. Gina said she knew you didn’t cheat on her, and she asked me to take responsibility so you two could be together again.”

  Bella tries to explain and Marco gives me his bullshit excuses of why it’s taken him so long to come forward, but I can’t deal with any of this. I need to get out of here—away from Bella and Marco. Away from Gina and her meddling fucking ass. I need to just get away.

  But before I leave, I take one last look at the sweet little girl who’s innocent in all of this. “Goodbye pretty girl.” I bring two fingers to my lips and press them to her forehead. Then I walk over to Bella and give her a kiss on her forehead as well. “I need some time, Bella.”

  “Please tell me I’m not losing you, Tristan,” she pleads.

  “Right now, I can’t tell you anything.” And it’s the truth. I need time to figure out where my life goes from here. Her eyes well with tears but I ignore them.

  “Okay.”

  “Let me call you,” I insist before I walk out the door and out of my best friend’s life.

  Tristan

  The next night…

  I’m lost and confused and alone. Mason is in town and staying with me, but when he asked me to join him at the club with some friends from the gym, I declined, needing some time to figure out where to go from here. I don’t know how to handle my anger and resentment. I don’t know who it should be aimed at. Bella. Marco. Gina. Myself. Deciding I need some answers from Gina—needing to hear her side of the story—I head over to her apartment to see if she’s home so I can confront her. I park in the guest parking spot and make my way up to her apartment. There’s loud music playing inside, and when I knock, the door opens up on its own.

  “Hello?” I yell over the music. Dozens of people fill the smoky apartment, the smell of weed permeating my nostrils. As I make my way through the swarm of high and drunk people, who are laughing and dancing, I almost consider joining them. Maybe Gina has the right idea, trying to escape reality. Maybe all of these people are onto something.

  “Hey, have you seen Gina?” I ask a random guy who’s snorting coke off the table.

  “Probably in her room.” He nods his head toward the hallway.

  When I get to her room, the door is partly open, so I open it the rest of the way. There’s a guy I recognize from the parties she’s dragged me to—her friend Janell’s brother, I think—the drug dealer—sitting on the edge of her bed. His pants are down and his dick is out. Only I can’t see his dick because Gina’s entire mouth is covering it as he presses his hand to her head, pushing her head down farther until she gags, her throat making a convulsing noise.

  “Hey!” I shout, and his eyes dart up to me, his hand not leaving her head. “Get your hands off her.” At my words, Gina looks up at me and stumbles back onto her ass. I rush over to help her up, but the guy stands up blocking me from getting to her.

  “Mind your own business,” the guy says, smirking. “She’s working off the shit she bought from me tonight.” Fuck! I had assumed he was forcing himself on her, but I was wrong.

  “Gina,” I sigh, “is this guy serious?”

  “Oh, come on, Tristan, don’t start with your judgements. You were drunk and fucking me last night.” She stands up and stumbles around the guy. The front of her shirt is down, her tits hanging out.

  “Yeah, I had a bad fucking day! I got drunk and had sex with my ex-girlfriend. You’re whoring yourself out for drugs. Don’t do this shit. Get help!”

  “Screw you, Tristan,” Gina sneers. “You don’t know shit.” I look into her glossy eyes and have no idea why I even bothered to come here. She’s so high, there’s no pulling her down, and it’s obvious I’m not going to get answers from her.

  The guy hisses, “You need to go.” He sits back down on the bed, his dick now flaccid, and guides Gina back down onto her knees. She doesn’t even bother acknowledging me again.

  I shake my head and walk out the door without looking back. I’m done trying to play hero when the truth is, I’m having a hard enough time trying to save myself.

  Tristan

  Two months later…

  Gina: We need to talk.

  Me: There’s nothing to talk about.

  Gina: I’m pregnant.

  “Fuck! This shit can’t seriously be happening right now.” I throw my phone at Mason, shaking my head. I should’ve known better than to think moving to Los Angeles would mean a fresh start. One thing about your past, that bitch follows you everywhere you go.

  “Shit,” Mason curses under his breath. “Maybe it isn’t yours.” He stands up from the couch and tosses the phone back to me. “There’s only one way to find out. Get a paternity test.”

  Me: I’m living in LA now. I can meet you in a few hours.

  Gina: I just need money for an abortion. Don’t make this more than it needs to be.

  As sick as the thought of Gina being pregnant makes me, the idea of her aborting something that could be a part of me makes me even sicker.

  Me: Please don’t do that. That baby is half mine.

  Gina: Could be…

  Of course this is how she wants to play it.

  Gina: I lost my apartment and I have nowhere to go. I need to have an abortion.

  Me: I’ll come get you. Please don’t do anything until we talk.

  “I’ve got to go get her. She’s threatening to have an abortion.” I look at Mason and he glances back at me.

  “I’m not saying I’m in favor of aborting a baby, but would that be such a bad idea in this situation? Do you really want to be stuck raising a child with that drug whore for the rest of your life?”

  “It’s a baby…possibly my baby.”

  “Okay, yeah, I get it. Go get her.”

  Tristan

  Three months later…

 
Tristan,

  It’s obvious you’re never going to be with me. I’m done trying to play Betty Homemaker with you. Ivan might be the dad so I’m staying with him until I know for sure.

  Gina

  As if things couldn’t get any worse…the possible mother of my baby is shacking up with her drug dealer who also might be the father. Fucking fabulous!

  Tristan

  Four months later…

  It’s been nine months since the last time I sat in the hospital, in the labor and delivery unit. Granted, this time I’m in a hospital in Los Angeles, whereas last time I was in San Diego. This time, I’m waiting to find out if I’m the father, whereas last time I knew without a shadow of a doubt I wasn’t the dad. This time, I’m praying I’m not the father, whereas last time I was praying by some miracle I could’ve been the dad.

  Last time, Bella gave birth. This time, Gina did. Bella held her baby and doted on her. Gina is refusing to hold her daughter and asking when she can get up and go outside to smoke a cigarette.

  It’s been four months since I’ve seen Gina. Since she slipped out in the middle of the night and left with Ivan. Four months since Bella texted me Gina was partying it up back in San Diego. Four months since I begged Gina to come back, so I could try to protect the baby from her mother. I even tried to lie and say I would be with her. She called bullshit and refused to come back. So for the last four months I’ve hoped and prayed the baby is okay, having no clue about anything and feeling helpless as fuck.

  When I got the call this morning after she had the baby, I thought I would be making a trip down to San Diego, only to learn she’s here in LA, still with the drug dealing loser.

  “I’m pretty sure she’s yours,” Gina whispered into the phone.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Hollywood Presbyterian.”

  What the hell! She’s in Los Angeles.

  Since I arrived, the baby has been in the nursery. They’re running routine tests to make sure she’s healthy and doesn’t have any issues from the drugs Gina admitted to doing in the beginning of her pregnancy. They tested Gina’s blood when she was admitted, and they couldn’t find anything in her system. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t doing shit that’s untraceable.

  “Have you done any drugs?” She rolls her eyes at me and looks away.

  “Have you?” I ask louder.

  “No, Tristan. I haven’t. I smoked cigarettes but that’s it. Speaking of which, I need to go smoke one now.”

  She stands up and puts her sweatpants on she brought with her to the hospital. Without saying a word, she grabs her cell phone from the table and walks out the door. After about ten minutes, the nurse wheels the baby in.

  “Oh, where’s the mom?” Her eyes dart around the room looking for Gina who still hasn’t returned.

  “She’s taking a cigarette break.”

  The nurse, whose name tag reads Mila, scrunches up her nose but doesn’t comment. “Want to hold the baby?” Since there’s a chance I’m the father, I’ve been given a matching bracelet allowing me access to the maternity ward and to Gina’s baby.

  “Umm…” I begin to tell her I would rather wait until I know for sure she’s mine, but before I can answer her, she places the tiny baby into my arms. And in that moment, I know what true love feels like. Don’t ask me how I know but she’s mine. She doesn’t really look like me or Gina. She’s just a tiny little thing wrapped up like a tight little burrito. She has a pink, blue, and white striped beany on her head, and the only part of her you can see is her face.

  Her nose is small and her eyes are fluttering open, trying to adjust to the lights in here. My heart begins to palpitate as she tries to zero in on me. She can’t, though. She’s only a day old. Her eyes can’t focus no matter how hard she tries. But mine can and I’m one hundred percent focused on this precious little girl.

  “She won’t hold her.” I look up at the nurse. I completely forgot she was still in the room. “She won’t hold her or even acknowledge her. I just thought you should know.”

  I nod slowly and look back down at this perfect little creature and wonder how in the world anybody could not want to hold her. Then it hits me, I didn’t want to hold her. But I also wasn’t sure if I’m the father. Gina knows damn well she’s the mother.

  With one hand cradling the baby, I use the other hand to call my mom to bring her up to speed. After Gina ran into Bella one night at a local bar and told her she’s pregnant, I told my parents there’s a chance I might be the dad. However, I made it clear until I knew for sure, I didn’t want to discuss it. I spent the next several months in denial, refusing to buy anything or get anything ready for a baby. My mom tried to bring it up a few times but I wasn’t having it. I didn’t want to be in the same position I was in nine months ago. Shit, I could still be in that position. What if she isn’t mine? But as I stare at her, something in me keeps insisting she is. I take a picture of her and send it to my mom and Mason. Then I call my mom.

  “Tristan, is that who I think it is?”

  “She had the baby.”

  We talk for a good thirty minutes, and she tells me she’s going to fly out to help me if the baby’s mine. When the nurse comes back in along with the doctor, I tell my mom I have to call her back.

  “We’re ready to do the paternity test,” the doctor says. “Is the mom here? She needs to sign off on it.” That’s when it dawns on me that Gina never came back up.

  “She went outside to smoke a cigarette and hasn’t come back.”

  The doctor calls security to check the cameras. Meanwhile, the nurse gives me a bottle to feed the fussy little girl in my arms. We wait to hear back from security and when we do, the next words he says changes the course of my life. “She got into a car and left.” He shows me the stilled image of Gina getting into a beat-up Camaro and you can see it’s her drug dealer boyfriend, Ivan, driving. She must have looked at the baby and known it wasn’t his.

  “What do I do?” The doctor says he’ll call a police officer to come speak to me. When the officer arrives, he tells me the best option is to file for emergency custody. Everything following is a blur. They put a rush on the paternity test to prove I’m the dad.

  They come back positive. I’m the dad.

  I call my parents, and my mom says she’s going to drive over in a couple of days. She just needs to make sure the recreational center she runs is all sorted and under control since she plans to stay here until we get this all figured out. I call an attorney and he files for emergency custody. Within a few hours, it’s granted.

  The attorney lets me know it’s for thirty days, during which time, he’ll file for full custody on my behalf. If Gina doesn’t respond within those thirty days, I’ll be granted full custody.

  As the attorney is leaving, Mason shows up with a ton of crap in his hands.

  “What’s all this?” I ask, grabbing some boxes from him.

  “A car seat to bring your daughter home in. Figured you didn’t have one.” He shrugs. “The woman in the baby department said it’s rated the best.” He grins wide and I know she most likely informed him of that after he screwed her somewhere in the store.

  “I also bought some clothes and bottles and stuff.” Then he surprises the hell out of me when he asks to hold her.

  “So, I take it this is her?” I hand her over to him and he sits down, cradling her head. “And what’s your name, little cutie?” He speaks to my daughter in a soft voice.

  “I haven’t named her yet, but I need to. The attorney needs a legal name to add to the petition for custody.” On top of that, the data processor left the paperwork to fill out so I can bring her home tomorrow.

  “What do you think I should name her?” I ask Mason. I have no clue about naming a little girl. To be completely honest, I think I’m still in shock over this entire situation. I woke up this morning planning to go to class, and instead found out I’m a dad.

  Mason thinks for a moment before he says, “Shelly! No, wait. I sle
pt with a Shelly once and she stalked me for months. How about Anastasia? Fuck! I slept with one of those too and she sucked in bed. I got it! You should name her Trina!”

  “And where did you come up with that name?” I ask, scared of what he’s going to say. The nurse walks in but she’s standing behind him, and before I can warn him, he says, “She gave me the best goddamn road head of my life.”

  “Jesus, Mason! I’m not naming my daughter after one of your conquests. Think of a name of a woman you haven’t slept with.”

  The nurse makes herself known, taking the baby’s temperature, cleaning up the bassinet area, and preparing a bottle for the baby to eat, but Mason ignores her, holding my daughter and trying to think of a name.

  “Okay, let me think. Jessica...Melissa…Heather…” Mason continues to spit out name after name, shaking his head as he remembers he has had sexual relations with each and every one of them.

  “Okay! I got it…no, wait never mind.” He shakes his head, a tinge of sadness marring his features.

  “What?” I ask, exasperated. “Just tell me the name.”

  “Renee.”

  “And have you slept with her?”

  “Fuck no! That was my birth mother’s middle name and I can most definitely assure you I didn’t sleep with her.” It’s the first time Mason has ever mentioned someone from his past.

  “So why did you say no to naming her that?”

  “Because it’s my birth mother’s middle name…you don’t want this sweet little girl being tainted by that name.” He leans over and gives my daughter a kiss on her forehead.

  The nurse comes over and hands Mason the bottle, and he looks up at her for the first time. I notice once again her name tag reads Mila. She’s been here on and off since my daughter was born and she’s been an absolute godsend. I know a nurse’s job can’t be to help change diapers, make bottles, and clean up, but she’s done it all for me.