by S. M. Soto
“I’m so sorry. For everything,” I croak, pulling away from her so I can meet her gaze. Her eyes water and her bottom lip quivers as she tries to rein in her emotions.
“I know,” she says hoarsely, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I forgave you the minute after you said it, Sam. You’re one of my best friends. No harsh words will ever change the way I feel about you.”
A sob catches in my throat, and I drop my head to her shoulder, shaking it back and forth. “You really are too much of a good person,” I chortle through my tears. Aliza’s shoulder vibrates with her laugh.
“Maybe. Or, it could just be I know, deep down inside, you Samantha Faye, have a heart made of gold.”
Lifting my head off her shoulder, I stare up into her eyes that resemble the ocean and try not to get lost in their depths. “How am I going to fix this?”
“We’ll figure it out. Together. I promise,” she says with a small smile.
And this time, I choose to believe her.
***
I spend most of the day with Aliza listening to her tell stories of her past and how excited she is for our futures. As I listen to her give me advice and rummage through her stuff for old baby pamphlets, I can’t help but realize how amazing Aliza probably was as a mother. In those moments during our conversations, I know I wouldn’t want anyone else but her to be godmother to my child. She is the one with a heart made of gold.
Things get a bit awkward when CJ finally comes home, but after I pulled him aside and apologized for hurting Aliza, he seemed to brush it under the rug. Things between CJ and me will always be strained, as long as Alex and I continue fighting the way we do. That’s his best friend, and the closest thing he has to a brother, so I don’t blame him, not in the least. Especially after the way I’ve been acting lately. I can definitely see why everyone’s been keeping me at a distance. It’s safer that way.
After eating dinner together, I headed home, ready to make some changes in my screwed-up life and fix all the relationships I ruined. When I walked through the door, I found Natalia in the living room, reading a book. I hated to bother her, but the news I had wasn’t the kind you kept to yourself.
In the kitchen, I grab my trusty pack of Oreos before plopping down on the couch next to her. Tearing open the package, I pop an Oreo in my mouth and the only sounds filtering through the silent apartment are that of my crunching. Finally, having had enough, Natalia slowly lifts her gaze toward me and arches a single brow at my obnoxious chewing. I fight back a grin.
Instead of offering her a cookie, I raise my backside off the couch and dig into my pocket for the square photograph. With a deep breath, I push the picture into her hand and watch as her eyes drop down in curiosity, then widen in surprise.
“Holy shit, Samantha,” she whispers, staring down at the black and white photo, much like I did earlier that day.
Heaving a rough sigh, I nod my head in agreement.
Holy shit, indeed.
“I know. Alex and I never use condoms, but I’ve always been on the shot, so I never thought it was a problem.”
Natalia rolls her eyes. “Nothing is a hundred percent effective, Samantha. Didn’t you ever listen to me when I said use condoms?”
I nudge her in the shoulder playfully and shoot her a glare. “Hey, Alex is the only one I’ve ever had sex with sans condom. And I know that, genius. I guess I just never thought it would happen to me, you know?”
“Always the famous last words,” Natalia says with a chuckle.
My mouth quirks, but quickly falls when I think about Alex.
“What am I going to tell him?” I whisper. Natalia smiles sadly and pats my thigh.
“You tell him the truth. Everything will work out, Sammy. You guys have been through hell and back together. Don’t give up now.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m just worried he has,” I say, voicing my worst fears. Natalia sucks in a deep breath, no doubt fearing the worst, too.
Natalia pulls me into a hug that squeezes the air from my lungs before she slips out of the living room and off to bed. I sit there on the couch in a daze, trying to figure out what the hell to do next. I can’t keep up with this shitstorm that is my life. First Alex and our drama, then my mother and her letter, and now, a baby bombshell.
I’m so fucking screwed.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I tap out a quick message and my finger hovers over the Send button. Anxiety coils deep in my belly, threatening to send me running to the bathroom, but I tamp it down.
Do it now, Sammy, or regret it forever, I chide myself. With a hmph of frustration, I bite the bullet and hit Send.
Sam: Can we talk tomorrow?
Long, drawn-out minutes tick by without a reply and I’m just about to give up hope when I hear my phone ping. With trembling hands, I swipe, reading over the message.
Alex: What time
My stomach rolls and my heart trips. I flutter my fingers over my mouth in deliberation before typing out a reply.
Sam: I can meet you at your place before ten?
Alex: All right
I blow out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and fall back against the couch. Dread runs through my body just at the mere thought of what tomorrow might entail. Placing my hand on my stomach, I rub small, smooth circles that help calm my nerves a fraction.
***
I step out of the car and clutch the hood for support. Three times during the drive here, I had to pull over and dry heave at the side of the road, or talk myself down from a panic attack. Now that I’m here, the feeling is ten times worse.
Forcing my legs to walk up the steps, I ring the doorbell with my heart lodged in my throat. The door suddenly opens and there stands Alex, dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a navy blue T-shirt. His face is void of any emotion as he lets me in. I lower myself into his dining room chair, doing everything I can to catch my breath and slow the erratic beating of my heart.
“Is there a reason you’re here, Samantha?” His tone isn’t cold, it’s just…indifferent.
I swallow thickly before opening my mouth. A small squeak escapes, but I have no words. His jaw clenches and his brow dips in irritation.
“I’m nine weeks pregnant. I found out at the doctor yesterday.”
Alex slumps back against his chair and stares at me like I have two heads. Under normal circumstances, the look on his face would be funny, but it’s not. The clearing of his throat slices through the silence.
“How do you know it’s mine?”
My heart takes a vicious blow at his words, but I know they’re warranted. Pushing down the tears threatening to escape, I square my shoulders.
“James and I always used protection, and the dates don’t add up with anyone but you,” I explain. He nods his head, and stares at me with an unnamed expression.
Blowing out a tumultuous breath, he runs a hand over his head, and turns back to me with a resolute look on his face.
“I’d very much like to be part of my child’s life. So we’ll make all the necessary arrangements on how to split the time between the two of us that best suits you and the baby. In the meantime, if you need anything, just let me know.”
My heart drops to my stomach. A crippling pain tears through my chest, making it impossible to breathe. I blow out wheezes of air, trying to fight past the pain his words have caused. Sensing my impending breakdown, his gaze hardens and his jaw steels. My eyes burn with unshed tears as I force the words out.
“That’s it? You’re not gonna fight?”
Pained honey eyes drift to mine, shattering what was left of my heart.
“I’ve been fighting for you for nine years, Samantha. I don’t have anything left.” He lifts his shoulder in a helpless shrug.
My bottom lip trembles violently and I sniffle, trying to maintain some form of composure.
“This is really it, then.”
His hand white-knuckles the table, while the muscles in his jaw tick. “Yeah, it is.” Avoiding my ga
ze, he trains his eyes on the clock behind my head and I take that as my cue to leave.
Pushing to my feet, I wipe my hands down my jean-clad thighs and force the words past my lips.
“I, uh, I’ll keep you up to date on everything.”
I don’t wait for his response, instead I brush past him, leaving my bloodied heart at his feet.
I leave Alex’s place with a gaping hole in my chest and in such a daze, I don’t realize I have tears running down my face until the wetness rolls onto my chest and neck. With shaking hands, I manage to get the door to my apartment open and go inside. On auto-pilot, I lower myself onto the couch and stare at the ceiling. That’s eventually where Natalia finds me.
“Sammy?” Trepidation drips from her voice.
“He didn’t take me back,” I whisper. “He wants to be part of the baby’s life, but he didn’t take me back.”
The couch dips beside me and I feel Natalia’s hand run through my hair.
“Did you expect anything less? You’ve spent nine years stomping on his heart. Even I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy,” she says sadly.
A tear treks down my cheek as my hand rubs over my flat stomach.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. Her hand lands on my shoulder and she squeezes firmly. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I shift my gaze to hers and see the resolute expression on her face.
“I think it’s time you grovel.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
One month later
“This is the stupidest fucking idea in the history of stupid ideas.”
“It’s not stupid, Samantha.”
“You’re right, it’s not just stupid: this whole idea is fucking mental.”
“You know, I’m starting to think you’ve gone mental, but I’ll chalk it up to hormones for now.”
“You little bitc—”
“Okaaay,” Aliza says loudly with a clap of her hands, snapping both me and Natalia out of our impending brawl. “No more arguing or complaining about this idea, do you both understand me?” Aliza shifts her gaze from me back to Natalia almost threateningly. “Now, Samantha, you are going to put on your big-girl pants, get the hell out of this car, and walk up those steps to ring that doorbell. Natalia and I will be right behind you. You’re not alone, you hear me?”
My lungs seize in my chest as my eyes drift toward the unfamiliar house. The lawn is slightly unkept, but it hasn’t necessarily been neglected. The house itself is cute, a quaint little condominium with a welcome mat placed in front of the gated door.
Is this even the right address? I can’t help but think. This place just doesn’t seem like it fits Margaret. It’s so normal. And my mother, she is far from normal.
Anxiety swims through my veins as I stare at the house. I still can’t even believe I’m here, in Boston, my hometown, minutes away from seeing my mother again for the first time in nearly eighteen years.
I didn’t even want to be here.
I still don’t want to be here. But Natalia and Aliza talked me into it.
After receiving my mother’s letter and getting the news about my pregnancy, I haven’t been able to do much else, other than sit and think. Mostly about my mother and my unborn child.
The one question that I can’t seem to find an answer to is, why now? It’s been eighteen years of radio silence and now, I suddenly have a mother interested in seeing me.
I’ve thought on it—a reunion. But every time I imagine it, it never ends well. How could it, when we’re two totally different people now. I’m not that seven-year-old little girl anymore. I’m twenty-five and pregnant.
When I think about the life I’m carrying, I can’t help but think about my childhood and how much I want to give this baby a better life. I want him or her to want for nothing, to fear nothing. I want my child to be happy and healthy. And most of all, I’d like my child to have grandparents he or she can rely on and love. Just at the thought of grandparents, my mind automatically drifts to Victoriana and my child sharing the same blood. It gives me fucking chills.
She’s going to have a fucking aneurism when she hears the news.
The thought makes me smile.
After expressing my fears about my future to the girls, Aliza thought it would be a good idea to close the door on my past. The past that seems to keep holding me back from my future. She made a decent point. I couldn’t move forward and give this baby a good life if I don’t find a way to let go of my troubled past.
I was being selfish, holding on to my anger and pain, not wanting to deal with the demons of my past. I didn’t have the luxury of being selfish anymore. I had a child to care for, another life to keep safe and sane. I couldn’t keep falling into my old, toxic habits. I had to wash myself clean of them.
And that’s exactly what I was doing.
Natalia contacted my mother for me, gaining her new address and setting up a meeting for us. I’m still not sure if I’m ready but I have to at least try, no matter how painful this reunion might be. Aliza made all the other arrangements for us. She booked flights, the hotel, and somehow still managed to be my rock when I felt like I was going to burst apart at the seams. My best friends were godsends.
“You ready, Sam?” Natalia asks, her voice distant.
I turn toward the source, finding her and Aliza already waiting on the curb for me to exit the car, with her hand outstretched. Shakily, I place my sweaty palm in hers and squeeze as I slide out of the back seat. My heart threatens to explode out of my chest with each violent beat and my stomach churns uncomfortably. Acidic bile rises in my throat and I inhale a deep breath, hoping the first time I see Margaret, I won’t completely lose it and barf all over her.
“You got this,” Aliza whispers as I stand to my feet with confidence I don’t feel.
This is a mistake. A horrible fucking mistake.
Natalia and Aliza flank me, guiding me up Margaret’s quiet walkway. I suddenly break out in a cold sweat and the bile rising up my throat threatens to expel right down to my feet. Hysteria claws at my lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper urgently, my eyes widening the closer we get to the front doors. The urge to flee is so strong, I try to slip my sweaty hands out my friends’ tight grasps, but they don’t budge.
“You can do this.”
“No, I can’t,” I choke out anxiously. “What if s-she…what if she…” I stumble over my words, unable to finish my sentence. But I don’t have to. Aliza does it for me.
“She’s going to love the woman you’ve grown into, Sam,” Aliza says.
“Just like we do,” Natalia says, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
I shake my head back and forth frantically, distorting my vision.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I nearly sob.
“Yes, you do,” Natalia whispers, knowing somewhere, deep down inside, I do want this. I need this.
Nausea claws at my throat and I suddenly feel like I have vertigo as we stand on the porch landing and Aliza rings the doorbell. The sound echoes around us, each chime making me feel sicker than the last.
“Breathe,” Aliza whispers, just as the front door swings open. My legs just about give out and I let out an audible gasp when I see her. Margaret looks so different, yet at the same time, she’s so familiar.
Dressed in a forest green floral blouse that makes her eyes pop, and a pair of black slacks, her hair is piled at the top of her head in pretty auburn curls. Her complexion is fair, just like mine, but with all the makeup she’s wearing, she looks older than she should for her age. With an abundance of wrinkles and a leather-looking face, my mother looks like the poster child for the after-effects of hardcore drugs.
I can’t deny she’s cleaned up well. Her eyes aren’t wide and scary like they used to be, and she’s surprisingly stable, no signs of the jitters. Inhaling a deep breath, I trail my gaze up and down Margaret until my mother’s gaze connects with mine and the entire world falls away
.
Time stops.
The world stops spinning.
Everything comes to a standstill.
“Sammy,” she whispers, her eyes glistening with tears.
My chest caves violently and my lungs seize painfully at the sound of my name falling from her lips. She looks at me with such love and adoration in her eyes it makes me want to run, so fast and so far away, and never look back.
Ignoring the pressure in my nose and eyes, I force a smile. Natalia and Aliza both squeeze my hands in silent support, as if sensing my renewed need to flee.
Margaret gives me and the girls an uncomfortable smile as she steps aside. “Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable. There’s tea on the table and some pastries. I wasn’t sure what you girls liked.” She rambles on nervously as we gather around the kitchen table to sit.
I eye her home warily. It looks so normal, like a regular ol’ woman lives here. There’s decent furniture in her living room, a tan couch with a wooden coffee table placed in front. She has an older TV, with a DVD and VHS player. Along the hallway leading to the kitchen, there are shelves filled with little angel figurines. All of them share one thing in common: they all have red hair.
Her kitchen is outdated. It’s in dire need of a remodel, with the old, yellow floral wallpaper and the pale pink tiling along the countertops. The cupboards and stove look like they’ve seen better days, but overall, the place is much better than I expected.
As we all settle in our seats, Margaret places these cute little china cups in front of us, each filled with raspberry tea. I watch each of her movements carefully, looking for any signs of the druggie I lived with for years, but I come up empty. This woman before me is an entirely different woman. She’s clean. There’s no doubt about that in my mind.
Every so often I catch her staring at me, but she immediately averts her gaze, never staring for too long.
