by Pamela Ann
He studied me awhile, eyes flickering all over my face. “Before tonight, I had no idea how cruel you could be. Though I should’ve paid attention to this side of yours when you had shut me out the first time you were pregnant when I had to keep begging for you to give me a chance. If you take pleasure in punishing me, then maybe I should just as well portray what you accuse me of. That way I shouldn’t feel guilty at all.”
Was he threating me? How fucking dare he? First, he accused me of using him to have a baby. Secondly, he’s pushing his luck with trying to do this idiotic blame game that solely on him. Minutes ago, I had never felt more fragile in my life. But after hearing him spout some hateful things, I was ready to duke it out. “If you want to fuck other women—go ahead, Drake. I won’t stop you.” I dared, past caring of the consequences because I was too focus on the loathing that emanated from him.
“Be careful for what you wish for, Lily…”
Bastard! Fuming, I threw him my middle finger before brushing past him, bellowing, “Go to Hell, Drake!”
“The pleasure will all be mine, wife.”
Son of a mother fucking shithead, I thought as I growled as hard as I could, wanting to hurt or hurl something just so he could experience some of the pain he was giving me.
Good riddance. I won’t have a headache for a husband.
Chapter 19
Lily
“How was your sleep dear?” Patricia lightly inquired over breakfast the night after Drake and I had a monumental fight that could go down in history as the most stupid of all the fights.
“I slept pretty good,” I murmured before I took a careful sip of my peppermint tea. It was one of the things that helped tide my odd tummy. It was a recurring side effect of being pregnant, and though I loved almost all aspects of pregnancy, suffice to say this nausea and the acid reflux I could live without. “Actually, do you know where your son might be? I woke up without him next to me…”
Patricia gave my hand a light squeeze before giving me an encouraging smile. “He left the first flight out back to LA. He said something important needed his attention. I begged for him not to go but I had never seen my son looked so desperate to be out of here that I almost sorry for him. Whatever it is you two are going through, always remember this will pass and another problem will come. Don’t let the small details mar the love you have for each other. Try to settle differences as quickly as possible before it stretches into something bigger. My son may be many things but I know his heart, Lily…that boy is very much in love with you.”
No…the man I saw last night was a man who was scorned, bitter and insufferable. Patricia was right. Drake was so many things…but in love with me he was surely not. Politely side-stepping the elephant in the room, which was my marriage to Drake, I engaged her with small conversations, mostly regarding about childbirth and how to care for a newborn. From there, we spoke about birthing complication and other unfortunate instances that could happen in a delivery room. She then told me a story about her friend going through emergency C-section and other dangers that could happen from there. It was staggering to know how things could go wrong. Hearing her stories made me forget about my woes and I was grateful that I had her to speak to about such things since my mother was busy travelling with her boyfriend and was currently vacationing somewhere in Europe the last time she called. I’m ecstatic that she found another man that could bring such happiness in her life especially at her age, but sometimes I wished that she was here too so she could experience this beautiful thing that was happening to me.
Apart from that, the thought of being in the very place I detested the most, a place where people fought for their lives on a daily basis, was the very place where I’ll give birth to my baby. I had considered water birthing with a midwife but the more I weighed things, the more it was clearer to me that I shouldn’t chance my life and the baby’s life because I was a stubborn fool who despised hospitals and their signature antiseptic scent that lingered everywhere you turn.
God I hated hospitals with a passion.
The four days I was left to my own devices, never did I hear once from Drake. This was the longest I had never heard from him since he and I got married.
The older traits of his younger days were back with vengeance and God help me if he’s going to enjoy punishing me for all the things he thought I did.
These days trickled by slowly, making me more conscious that he was taking a stance in cutting me off from his life. I understood his point, I truly did. But what I couldn’t comprehend was how he was trying to go about it. He was a mature man, why couldn’t he just move along without much fuss and tantrums?
The moment I realized we were bounded to go back home, I had mixed feelings of dread and wishful thinking. The wishful side hoped that these past few days had somehow enlightened him and we could go forth in trying to figure out how to really fix things between us. But the other part, the pessimist in me chided that I was acting naïve, that Drake must’ve already taken actions from his threats.
While waiting for our flight, I noticed another fellow travellers, a young couple who had a toddler who was curious with his surroundings. I was so drawn to the little fellow, taking in his gurgling laughs when he clapped his hands together when passersby waived at him while some would coo on how cute he was. With his soft silky curly brown hair, dimples and cherub cheeks, who wouldn’t adore this little bouncing joy full of surprised happiness at the little and simplest things in life? His bubble of bliss went on a halt when he tripped on his father’s backpack. Upon tripping, he barely got himself to get up before his lower lip started quivering and his instantaneously cried. I had never seen such a tiny thing produce such unlimited supply of tears. He bawled as if his whole world had fallen apart. His mother, who was in the middle of producing a milk bottle and formula, had to put all the baby paraphernalia on the side before scramming to pick up her child, trying in earnest to comfort and soothe him but her efforts failed to do so. Frantic that the baby was getting even louder, she turned to go to the father and handed him the tear-stained child. The father immediately took charge, plucking him out of her mother’s arms before putting him on his shoulders and started to walk about the vicinity, trying to distract him with the lively buzz of the airport terminal. In less than a minute, the cries subsided and the gurgling happiness reemerged once more. Noting his successful attempt, the bright smile of the father was heart-warming.
The heavy stirrings of sadness upon realizing that children needed their fathers too made my heart constrict. Will my child ever experience this kind of family bond? If Drake and I would go our separate ways, I doubt he and I will ever go in outings together. By then, our relationship would most possibly be hostile and severe. Could I really be that selfish that I wouldn’t let my child experience this kind of bond even in his/her early moments in life?
If I reach out to him and thoroughly speak my heart out, would he listen? He left without leaving any messages, leading me to think that he couldn’t fathom even pretending to be a couple for the entire duration we were in Mexico.
Hasty were my words and actions, letting my feelings speak before thinking it through had caused immeasurable and irreparable damage. Maybe it was my turn to reach out since I had started this whole war between us. Had I spoken up when it all first started, maybe our marriage wouldn’t be falling apart.
*
Hours later, I was riding separately with a hired car from Hugh and Patricia because they were heading to one of their friends’ party. I, on the other hand, was heading for home and unwind from our tiresome trip.
And then what? My mind rebutted when I lingered on what I’d be doing after unwinding wasn’t working out for me. It was about three in the afternoon and had nothing going on in my agenda. Well, maybe high time I changed that.
“Excuse me, do you mind dropping me off in Wilshire Boulevard?” I politely asked the driver and at the same time thinking that I had seriously lost my mind by rerouting my destination.
“No problem, Mrs. Tatum.”
There. The deal was done and at this point, it’d be rude if I tell the driver to forget about my request and resume our intended route.
What if he’d decline speaking to me, what would I do then? I suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
Thirty long agonizing minutes later, I was riding my way up in the elevator heading towards his office. My hands were sweaty, nervous and apprehensive and add the mere fact that I felt a little gaudy dressed in my comfort travel clothes—a long simple cotton flowy teal dress and sandals.
Never mind the outfit, I came here bearing peace and not to battle it out with him. The last time was draining enough, and to be frank, I’d rather spend the rest of this pregnancy without this numbing strain that never failed to dampen my mood whenever I had time to myself.
Upon arriving on his floor, I was taken aback when there was no Mindy or Katie to greet me. Huh, I thought it odd to have any of the girls gone at this hour. It wasn’t as though they’d left early cause it wasn’t even five. A meeting perhaps? Highly likely.
Drat. The time I take to visit Drake in his office was far in between, and it’s rather unfortunate that he wouldn’t be available. Feeling a little discouraged, I still made my way towards his office, thinking that I’d best leave a note, stating along the lines of peace and resolution. If this wasn’t an olive branch, I didn’t know what would be fitting. Saying sorry wasn’t truly my forte but at least I’m trying. I suppose it’s better late than never at all.
My colorful mind drifted to several scenarios as to how he and I would resolve this while quietly strolling towards his doubled-door office. The playful smile that toyed upon my lips died the second I opened the damning doors. My astonished eyes landed on Drake, half naked faced down on a massage table situated in the middle of the room with a thin cloth covering his bottom while the masseuse “worked” around his thighs. If I didn’t know better, that woman was massaging his balls.
The urge to scream was strong and yet I was too choked up to even breathe, afraid that I’ll fall apart if I did so.
Run. Close the damn door and get the hell out of here as fast as you can and pretend this never happened. My first thought was the same as usual, avoid and devoid.
I should go, I kept thinking to myself while my hand still gripped the door handle, shaking. But if I did, that would be resorting to the same cowardice that got me here in the first place, and since my marriage was far beyond the word “rocky”, what did I have to lose if I went batshit bonkers on him? Nothing. At this point, there was nothing left to lose other than my cool.
“Well, well, well, it’s good to see the boss working his blood, sweat and semen.” I drawled as dramatically stepped into the room, basking on Drake’s horrified expression.
It was a classic look men sported when they’re caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing—a mixture of shock, indignant, shame, remorse and fake machismo.
“So you’re the woman his banging on the side?” I directed the sun-bleached Barbie who had her breasts bulging out of her V-neck buttonholed polo shirt. “In case he didn’t tell, he’s married—to me.” I then waved my hand before her face hopefully she didn’t get blinded by the carats that was in it, while I could see Drake through my peripheral vision trying to scramble out of the table.
“Lily, ENOUGH!” he angrily hissed out as he rounded the table, heading for me.
Bastard!
The Barbie looked petrified as she looked at Drake then at me before stuttering, “Sorry—I’m not—I mean, no I didn’t realize he was married. There’s nothing going on, I’m just a masseuse.”
I snorted, ready to attack both of them. “I bet you are—now get the fuck out of here or I’ll drag you by the hair out of this building myself!”
“Lily, calm yourself down,” he growled into my ear before holding me in place with his hand securely grappling on my arm before addressing his masseuse who didn’t seem to want to fucking leave the damn office. “I’m sorry, Melanie. My wife’s pregnant and she tends to have random spurts of anger. You can go ahead and charge my card—and again, I apologize for this embarrassment.”
She nodded before she scampered out of there with her head shaking in disbelief, shutting the door on her wake. The second it was shut, Drake’s hold of my arm tightened before giving me his full raging attention, so much so that I quivered a little inside.
“What the fuck’s gotten into you woman?!” he roared eyes wild with fury. “How fucking dare you disrespect me in my office! And how fucking dare you treat me as such right before other people. Where the hell is your decorum?”
Bastard to the highest order! “Oh, you’re lecturing me now, Drake?” I screamed at him, ready to rumble. “HOW DARE YOU ASK ME WHERE MY DECORUM IS—why where was yours when you had that bleached big tittied Barbie massage your balls?”
“Well at least someone’s interested in my fucking balls since my own wife can’t even stand getting a kiss from me!”
I. Went. Livid.
My limbs had one mission in mind, and that was to hurt—and hurt him good. My hand didn’t even think twice connecting my palm to his cheek while the other tried to punch and scratch his bare chest. Drake’s hands caught both of mine when I meant to punch him again, willing his strong muscles to stop me from harming him. So with both of my hands temporarily out of commission, I lifted my leg, ready to kick where he priced his jewels high. “That’s it! I’m done. I’m filing for divorce the first thing tomorrow!” I was screeching at his face, frustrated that I couldn’t move when I felt him push me with my back hitting against the wall.
If he was raging with fury before, this time, he was incensed with it that might as well breathe fire to scorch me to flames. “Go ahead. I dare you.”
“Consider it done.” I spat back, not willing to let it go. “I don’t want to be married to a filthy bastard who thinks his cock is god and every woman should fall on her feet to worship it. I don’t care what you do—I just want you out of my life.”
“You won’t stop…won’t you, Lil?”
His questioned confused me a little. But before I had the chance to speak, he continued his speech.
“You’ve done enough, don’t you think?” his eyes were so magnetic that my will instantly vanished as I let its gray intensity hypnotize me. “From the moment you had condemned me, you have nothing been but horridly toxic to be around. Whatever you do—you do it to purposely hurt me. You didn’t give me a chance to redeem myself let alone explain, you simply decided that I wasn’t worth of your time, so you casted me aside, leaving me to fend for my own, uncaring if I were dead or alive.” His breathing became ragged, feeling the depth of his words as he tried to ready my eyes, searching for something. “I don’t know why you still settle for threats when you had simply lost me awhile back. The second you had abandoned me, I had started to let you go too.”
I was rendered speechless. There was never a doubt in my mind that each word was meant to hurt but it also bore the truth. He had let me go…and I wasn’t prepared for to hear him say it. I was too perplexed to say a damn word while our eyes remained still, connected, radiating such palpable intensity that I suddenly felt the urge to cry. Fighting my conflicted emotions, I blew out a shaky breath, almost wincing from the sharp air that entered my lungs the second I heaved to breathe.
“I could’ve been a good husband to you—no man is capable of loving you the way I can. And I hope, someday, when you and I start living again apart from one another, only then will you realize just how much I had fought for you. I loved you so fucking much that I would’ve fought any battles for you, Lily. I would’ve done the same…” he trailed off, while his eyes gave me a glimpse of the kind of hell he’s been going through. “I could’ve done the same...but I can’t fight an endless wall. No one can.”
“So the moment you do, you immediately make yourself available to whoever is interested, is that it?” I had crossed towards the land of crazy
and no matter how hard I tried to stop myself from spewing more hateful things, it seemed as if it was beyond my control. “Well maybe I should take your advice and go over my contact list. Maybe Jared or whoever would be available to make me feel good. A massage or two surely would be pleasurable.” I had gone overboard but I didn’t care—I wanted to see madness in him, but when the expected explosion never came, I felt trapped from my own making.
Drake remained silent, not uttering a word, while I silently panicked inside. Was this what a stalemate felt like? Not withstanding the complexity of his gaze, I dropped my sight towards his chiseled chest, barely remembering the last time I had felt it…touched it. How long had it truly been? When was the last time we even made love? I knew it was awhile back because I couldn’t seem to remember when or how it felt to be captured by him.
When I felt his hands slowly letting go of my hands, only then I felt it. Only then I finally felt him…that he was done fighting with me—that he was done fighting for me.
“What about the baby?” I frantically asked, desperate to hold on to the last straw that was supposed to hold us together.
“I want joint custody the moment you bear our child.”
“I…” I what? I’m sorry? Did sorry even fit to the kind of horridness I had treated him? No. It did not. “I couldn’t talk to you—I was jealous—and it poisoned everything for us.”
“No, Lil—it was you who poisoned us, not jealousy or anything else. It was you believing that you can treat me however you liked because you’re married to me or that you’re carrying my child, but under no circumstances a spouse should be allowed to feel he or she is better than the other half,” he rasped out saying with a low sad timber to his tone, ultimately making me drop my gaze to his lips.
God…those lips I couldn’t stop kissing before was no longer mine to kiss. “Did you have sex with anyone while married to me?” The love—that feeling that I thought I lost for him awhile back—seemed to have found its footing and it was slowly creeping back into my system.
