What She Needed

by Teresa Genevieve

  Giving him one of the devilish grins he had always flashed at her, she remarked, "Enjoy the enchiladas."

  She got in the car and drove away.

  She got home and put her purse on the table, contemplating what to make for dinner. She didn’t have the mental or physical energy to cook anything more, so she walked over to the counter and grabbed a loaf of bread. After getting some peanut butter and jelly, she started making herself a sandwich.

  Sitting alone at the table, sadness kicked in. Her life had been exciting for a few weeks, but it had all come crumbling down around her. Maybe if she had been prettier, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he would have kept sleeping with her if she had a better body or if she had been flexible like Shelby.

  She shook her head, ridding herself of those toxic thoughts. Self-doubt would get her nowhere.

  Standing up, she walked over to the calendar and counted the red X’s. Tomorrow was the big day. She wasn’t sure she could handle the wait, but she knew she’d have to.

  Throwing the majority of her sandwich into the trash, she placed another X on the calendar and headed upstairs to bed.

  In the morning, she found herself sitting on the toilet, staring blankly ahead, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She was a mess, and she wasn't sure how any of this was going to unfold, but she was about to get her answer.

  She flipped over the pregnancy test in her hand, revealing the big, pink plus sign she had always been so desperate to see. She froze, neither moving nor breathing, looking at the test, just waiting for it to change. Waiting for it to say, "Just kidding."

  It never did.

  She hurriedly picked up the phone and sent a text.

  Still shaking, she pulled her pants back up as the phone rang next to her.

  She eagerly picked it up. "It worked," she announced excitedly into the phone. "Oh my God, Jim, it worked." She pumped her fist and blinked away the tears of happiness. "Dylan got me pregnant."

  "Are you serious?" he asked.

  She wiped her eyes and nodded. "Yes, honey, I'm serious."

  "Oh my God," he said triumphantly. "This is the best news ever."

  "I know. Finally. We're finally going to be parents." She jumped up and down, still holding the pregnancy test in her hand.

  "And this means you can stop sleeping with Dylan," Jim told her.

  His comment would have been upsetting if it had happened before the Shelby incident. Now, she was honestly able to tell him, "I will never sleep with him again."

  "This is such great news. I didn't think it would ever happen for us." Jim let out an apologetic exhale, saying, "Honey, I'm sorry about the way I've been acting. I know I've been a jerk the past few weeks, but I couldn't stand the thought of you having sex with that...guy. It was enough to make me crazy."

  "I know," she whispered.

  "And then to see you in that picture where you were all made up and looking hot...I could hardly even look at that. I imagined you had gotten dressed up for him."

  "I didn't," she said immediately. "That was for you."

  "And the negligee."

  "That was for you, too," she assured him. "Dylan never saw that, and he never will."

  He let out another sigh. "That makes me feel better. You looked so sexy in it. It made me question everything that we were doing. There was no guarantee he was going to be able to get you pregnant, and I had to walk around knowing he was touching you. I was so jealous, I could hardly stand it."

  "Is that why you wouldn't look at me?" she asked softly.

  "It's the only reason why. It was because I couldn't look at you. It broke my heart. And then, of course, it all made me feel like less of a man because I couldn't get you pregnant myself."

  "You're not less of a man, honey," she promised him. "Infertility doesn't make you less of a man at all."

  "It's easy to say that...but when another man has to sleep with your wife to get her pregnant, it takes a bit of a toll on your confidence. And then..." he went on, "to go over to that little shithead's house and change his window. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to shake my hand and call me sir." His tone became immediately angry. "He's lucky I didn't punch him in is fucking eye."

  "I know," she whispered, holding up her hand. "But that's over now. We got what we needed from him. We're going to have a baby. It's all about me and you going forward, sweetie. Dylan is totally in the past."

  Jim paused a moment before sincerely saying, "I love you."

  "I love you, too."

  "Now," he began, "the question is...do we go with plan A or plan B?"

  "I don't know that yet," Melissa confessed, tapping her finger on the bathroom counter. "There's somebody I need to talk to before I decide."

  Melissa felt torn as she drove. As much as she wanted to tell herself that Dylan had just been a means to an end, she couldn't deny that she had developed feelings for him over the past few weeks. She wondered if his recent behavior had just been a mood swing. Maybe he was being defensive because he'd gotten caught with another woman.

  The memory of the girl's pretty young face entered Melissa's mind, making her grip the wheel tighter. That girl was feeling Dylan's touch now. She was clearly able to spend the night sleeping next to him, something Melissa couldn't do.

  She had worn his shirt.

  Melissa shook her head free of the thought, focusing on the asshole that Dylan had been lately. Maybe that wasn't a mood swing. Maybe the rest of it all had been one, giant act.

  What a fool she would have been if that were true.

  Melissa pulled into the driveway of the little blue house, getting out of the car and ringing the doorbell. The woman who answered looked surprised, asking, "Hi. Can I help you?"

  "Hi," she replied. "My name is Melissa; I am the woman who took in your nephew, Dylan."

  Chapter 25

  The woman's face immediately went flat. Letting out a sigh, she asked, "What did he do now?"

  "Nothing, really. I just want to talk about him. Do you have a minute?"

  "Sure," she said, holding the door open and making a sweeping gesture with her other arm. "Come on in."

  The door closed behind them, and the woman added, "Excuse the mess. I didn't know I'd be having company."

  "It's fine; I'm not worried about it." Melissa extended her hand. "I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. It's Carolyn."

  The women shook hands.

  "Can I get you something to drink?" Carolyn offered.

  "Water would be great, actually."

  Melissa took a seat at the kitchen table, soon joined by Carolyn, who brought two glasses of water.

  "So, what did you want to know about Dylan?" Carolyn asked.

  Melissa let out a deep breath as she formulated her words. "I'm just not sure who he really is. I've seen two sides of him, and I don't know which one to believe."

  "Believe the mean one," Carolyn replied.

  "That wasn't the answer I was hoping for."

  "Well, that's the only side of him," Carolyn explained. "Any kindness you see out of that boy is just an act because he's probably trying to get something."

  "Is he really that bad?"

  She took a sip of water. "Always has been."

  Melissa felt sick to her stomach. "Can you tell me a little about his history? I heard the story he told me, but I don't know how much of it is accurate."

  "Probably none of it," Carolyn said.

  An emotion Melissa couldn't describe choked her. She wasn't sure if it was shame, fear or anger, but it was making it difficult for her to breathe.

  "Well, his mother was sixteen when she had him," Carolyn began.

  "He did tell me that, actually."

  "Well, you got one fact out of the boy, then."

  She had referred to Dylan as a boy, invoking immediate guilt in Melissa. She had slept with a boy. She had gotten pregnant by a boy. Ignoring that thought, she said, "He told me he didn't know who his father was."

&
nbsp; "I guess you got two facts, then. Congratulations," Carolyn said. "Dylan never did know his father."

  "He told me that his mother didn't even know who the father was."

  With that, Carolyn shook her head. "That actually isn't true, but it's what Dylan has always believed, so it wasn't really a lie."

  "So his mother does know who the father is." Melissa said it more like a sentence than a question.

  Carolyn nodded. "She never told anybody, though."

  "Why was it a secret?"

  She sighed and sat back in her chair. "The man who got her pregnant was a twenty-five year old piece of shit."

  Melissa's eyes widened. "He was twenty-five?"

  "Yup. It was a clear case of statutory rape. He had no business sleeping with my sister. In fact, even though she was sixteen when she had Dylan, she was only fifteen when she got pregnant."

  "A grown man impregnated a fifteen-year old?" Melissa's expression reflected disgust, although she wasn't sure if what she had done was much better.

  "Yup. And then he threatened to kill her if she ever let anyone know it was him."

  "Wow," Melissa remarked. "I guess that's why she never told Dylan who he was."

  "That's why she never told anyone who he was," Carolyn replied.

  "Then how do you know?"

  "I'm her sister. I knew everything about her. I knew she was sleeping with him, and I tried to tell her not to. But she was in love, you know? And you can't talk any sense into a fifteen-year-old in love."

  "And you kept her secret for her?"

  "I did. I never even told my parents who it was. I told them I didn't know."

  "That must have been a hard secret to keep."

  "It was and it wasn't," Carolyn told her. "I mean, of course I wanted him to pay for what he'd done, literally and figuratively, but he'd threatened to kill her. And the man was such an asshole, I didn't doubt he would do it."

  "If he was an asshole, though, why was she sleeping with him?"

  "Because he could turn on the charm, just like someone else I know."

  Melissa felt her blood run cold.

  "I'm telling you," Carolyn went on, "there's a pretty big argument for nature versus nurture right there. Dylan never knew his father one day in his life, but he ended up just like him. It's as if 'asshole' is imbedded in their DNA."

  Once again, Melissa found herself in a room with no air. That DNA was currently growing inside of her.

  Trying to remain casual, Melissa remarked, "Dylan told me that he had a pretty rough upbringing. Could that explain some of his behavior?" She was desperate for that answer to be yes.

  Carolyn scoffed at the question. "A rough upbringing? Please." She dismissed the statement with her hand. "My sister was young when she had him, but she still lived at home, and Dylan was raised by my entire family. He had all the love any boy could want. I mean, my parents weren't thrilled that my sister had gotten pregnant, but as soon as they laid eyes on that baby, any apprehension they had went away. Dylan was their first grandbaby, and he was their little pride and joy."

  "But what about after she moved out? I'm under the impression that your sister started to party once she got her own apartment."

  "Okay, this is some typical Dylan right here. My sister and I got an apartment together, and we always made sure that he was cared for. If she did go out, which was rare, I was there to watch him."

  "He told me he was left alone a lot as soon as he turned nine or ten."

  "And he's full of crap."

  Melissa let out a sigh, unsure what to believe. "He said that he was often left home alone, sometimes overnight, and that was when he resorted to stealing from the neighbors."

  "He started stealing from the neighbors, yes, but he was never home alone. He's just trying to get you to feel sorry for him," Carolyn explained. "You know, we caught him stealing for the first time when he was five years old."

  "Five?"

  "Yup. This was back when we still lived with our parents. He had a play date with a little boy down the street. He was at their house, and the mother called to let us know that she caught Dylan taking money out of her purse."

  "At five?"

  Carolyn held up her hands and shook her head. "I'm telling you, there was something wrong with that child from day one. He wasn't raised to steal. He was being brought up in the same house that I grew up in, and there was no abuse or mistreatment...it was a loving home where we worked hard to instill manners and values in that kid." She tapped her finger on her temple. "There's something wrong with his wiring. There has to be. And when you consider who his father was, it's really not that hard to believe.

  “Get this,” Carolyn went on. “This will tell you what a jerk that boy is. My father is from Greece; he moved here when he was fourteen, so he spoke fluent Greek. Once Dylan started showing signs of aggressive behavior, my father started telling him to ‘go gently’ in Greek. Every time Dylan left the house, my father would hug him and give him that message. So what does Dylan do? He goes out and gets a tattoo across his chest that says ‘do not go gently’ in Greek. I mean, really…the only reason he got that tattoo was specifically to piss off the one man who had loved him like a father.” She shook her head. “That kid is mean. Just. Plain. Mean.”

  "Wow," Melissa said breathlessly. "I guess I should have talked to you before I agreed to take him in."

  "I did wonder why you were doing this for him, but, selfishly, I was just glad to get him out of my house."

  "What were you worried about?"

  "I just can't trust him," Carolyn told her. "I can't trust him any further than I can throw him. I mean, he can look you square in the eye and tell you the sky is green with all the sincerity in the world. He doesn't blink. He doesn't flinch. The lies just roll off his tongue, like he has no conscience whatsoever."

  "Were you afraid he'd get violent?"

  "Violent?" she asked. "No. He's never been violent. Not yet, anyway." She raised her eyes to look at Melissa. "But with his father being who he is, there's no telling what that kid is capable of."

  Melissa sat on her couch with her hand on her belly, Carolyn's words echoing in her head. The elation she'd felt over this baby had been short-lived, replaced with the horrible feeling that she may have had a monster growing inside of her.

  "That's silly," she said to herself out loud. "There's no guarantee that this baby will grow up to be like him. It might end up just like me."

  Somehow, that thought wasn't much more comforting.

  She dialed her phone, realizing it was late in England, but she didn't want to wait until morning. Fortunately, Jim answered, although his voice sounded raspy from sleep.

  "Is everything okay?" he asked immediately.

  "Yeah," she replied, "everything's fine."

  "You know I'm going to be worried about you now that I know you are pregnant."

  She smiled lovingly. "I know."

  "So what's this call for? It's the middle of the night here."

  "I know, and I'm sorry. I just have to know when you can come home."

  "Have you figured out what's going to happen?" Jim asked.

  "I have," she replied, "and it's definitely Plan B. And, quite frankly, it can't happen soon enough."

  "I'll come home this weekend."

  Even though that was only a few days away, it felt like too long. "You can't come any sooner?"

  "Honey..."

  "I know," she said immediately. "You've got work to do." She sighed and looked around, simply adding, "I guess it will just have to wait until the weekend."

  Chapter 26

  Melissa's foot bobbed as she sat on the couch, desperately trying to keep her mind from wandering to Dylan and Shelby. Glancing at the time, she wondered if they were eating the salmon she'd made or if they had skipped it in favor of hitting the sheets first.

  She grunted and shifted in her seat, so disturbed by the thought that she wanted to jump out of her own skin.

  The problem was that she h
ad nothing to keep her mind occupied. Her plans had all revolved around Dylan for the past few weeks, either cooking for him, hanging out with him or thinking about him. Now she had nothing in her life at all.

  Shelby had it.

  She wanted to put poison in the next dinner she brought over, killing both of them, but she figured that would have been traceable. George would have known it was her, and he was always about doing what was right. He definitely would have turned her in, just because that would have been the moral thing to do.

  Fucking George, she thought. She loved him more than anything, but he was too good sometimes. She considered what his reaction would have been if he found out that she and Jim had manipulated Dylan into getting her pregnant. She imagined he would never have spoken to her again, and that would have been devastating, but her urge to be a mother was so strong that she was willing to risk it.

  And now, thanks to Dylan, she was going to be a mom in early October.

  She was thinking about Dylan again. She was always thinking about Dylan. She wondered if Shelby appreciated him as much as she had, although she doubted it. That cute little thing was probably used to surrounding herself with good-looking men. Dylan may have been just another guy to her, but Melissa had treasured every inch of his tight, young body.

  Her chewed on her fingernail as her mind went back to the images she had of him, standing there naked and ready, looking at her like she was the sexiest woman in the world. Was he giving that same look to Shelby?

  Probably.

  Melissa got up and paced, unable to stand the thought of somebody else enjoying his body. She needed Jim to hurry up and get home so she could put her plan into action. She was upset that they hadn't just gotten everything ready while he was in the country a few days before. She could have been acting on the plan by now. Instead she had to wait, spending the next few days looking at Dylan and agonizing over what he was doing with that stupid little blond bitch.

  It occurred to her that she could have used that time to give Dylan one last chance to change his mind. Maybe she could have gotten him back in bed, and her life would go back to being interesting again.