I shake my head at him. “Jeremy, you’ll never understand, will you? To me, you’re everything.”
He looks surprised for a moment before returning to his blank expression. “Why?”
“I wish I could give you a good answer to that, but I can’t. There are many things I love about you. And I know there are many problems you and I both have that anyone else would say make us incompatible. But those people aren’t me and they don’t know what I feel. The truth is, I’m only happy when I’m with you. I’m only comforted when you comfort me. I only feel safe when you shelter me.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I’m on a roll now and I can’t stop. Words are flowing from me. They’re coming from somewhere deep inside. “I don’t care if that seems unhealthy. I don’t care if people say we shouldn’t depend on each other like we do. The fact of the matter is, I love you. Desperately. I should never have left you the way I did. It wasn’t right. And you have done everything that was expected of you. You’re clean and healthy. And I didn’t give you a chance to do that with me. It was the worst mistake I ever made, leaving you without giving you a chance to show me you could change. I refuse to let anyone tell me what I should feel and what I should do again. Including you, Jeremy Mason. I’m a big girl and I can make my own decisions.”
He grins at me, his eyes shining. I smile a little before I continue. “So here I am, standing on your doorstep. Here for you. Wanting you. Begging you to let me back in. Telling you I was the stupid and selfish one and asking for your forgiveness.”
His breathing increases and his eyes shine. “Dylan, you’re making this so hard. I just don’t deserve you. Especially now.”
“Damn it, Jeremy. I don’t need your money and fame. I’m not interested in it. I don’t care if you never pick up your guitar again. I’ll only support you in anything you want to do. I want to be there for you. I want to build a life with you. I want to show you what you’ve been missing all of those years when you turned to your addictions to numb yourself from feeling anything. Feelings aren’t always bad. In fact, our life will be full of them, full of love and happiness.”
He laughs in disbelief and looks towards the ground again. I take another step closer. “But there’s something important I need to tell you.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs, as if preparing himself for a blow. “What now?”
“Jeremy, I’m pregnant.”
Jeez. Really tactful.
His eyes shoot back up to mine, his pupils large and eyes panicked. His face pales. “Then, why are you here?” he gasps out.
I smile. “The baby is yours, Jeremy. Scott knows, and I left him.”
His mouth drops open and he stares at me as if he’s just seen a ghost. He slowly begins to back away from the door. He puts his head in his hands.
Uh oh. Not exactly what I was hoping for.
“Oh…Oh my God…” he mumbles. “Are…are you sure?”
I step into his house and hold out the test. “I have the test, if you want to see it?” I feel my heart sinking into my feet. I brace myself for whatever is about to happen. Will he kick me out? Demand a paternity test? Tell me to have an abortion?
He comes over to me so quickly I don’t even have time to react. He falls to his knees in front of me and wraps his arms around my lower back, putting his head on my stomach. He sobs into my shirt. I stand, immobile, until I hear, “I love you both so much.”
My whole body warms. The electricity from his words flows through me, filling me with more happiness than I’ve ever felt. I look down towards him and it reminds me of when we were parting not so very long ago. I can’t believe how different that moment is from this one. It gives me an idea.
I sink to the floor with him, holding him like I did then. “Will you marry me?” I ask, running my hand through his hair.
He snorts. “We’ve always been married, wife.”
I laugh. “But I mean, legally? I want to have your name. I want to have all of you. Forever.”
He shakes his head, pulling himself away from me. I begin to frown, but he smiles cockily. “No, I want to take your name.”
I look at him in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“My whole life has been about control. The people who controlled me in the past abused it. When I had control over myself, I abused it. And then I gave control to the drugs. I need to let go of my control to someone who will cherish me. And I want you to control me. You already do. My mind, my heart, my soul…it’s all yours. And I want everyone to know that it’s me who is in your power, not you in mine. I belong to you. You are too spectacular for me to claim.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he puts his finger up to my mouth to silence me. “My condition. I don’t want to be Jeremy Mason anymore. Jeremy Mason has hit rock bottom. I don’t want to be in this pit anymore. If I’m climbing up from the bottom, I want to transform myself. I want to be free of who I was and become who I need to be for you.”
I give him a sly smile and leave it there. Jeremy Ackhart. It does have a nice ring to it.
“This is the happiest day of my life,” I say in awe, as I stare at his beautiful face. The happiness I feel confirms that I’m making the right decision.
“The happiest day of my life will be when you become Mrs. Ackhart. And when I become a father. I hope I’m good at it.” Suddenly, his expression turns to panic. “You won’t let me mess up, will you?”
“Jeremy, you are the most amazing man I’ve ever met. There is nothing you can’t do. You will be the best father in the world.” I run my hand down his face.
His expression softens. “And you, the best mother.” He grips me tighter for a moment. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for bringing me to heaven.”
Chapter 15- Jonathan
At this moment, I really hate Jeremy Mason. I want to kill him. I want to physically harm him the way he indirectly is harming me right now.
I scream as he walks back into our bedroom, carrying a suitcase and overnight bag. “Rich said he’ll be here any minute,” he says to me, panic filling his voice.
“Now!” I scream at him. I can’t think about anything but the searing pain. I pick up a brush from the bedside table and fling it at his face. He ducks, just avoiding it. “Honey, I’m sorry. I promise, any minute,” he insists, holding his hands up in surrender.
I feel the pain building again, the clutching of my muscles coming closer and closer together. I scream in agony. Jeremy drops the suitcase and bag, and runs over to my side.
“Don’t fucking touch me Jeremy Mason!” I scream, pushing his hand away from my arm. I look up at him when he doesn’t say anything and see him flashing me a soft, lovely smile. I don’t care. I still hate him right now. I think…
“That’s Jeremy Ackhart to you,” he laughs.
I give him an evil stare.
“Sorry. I’m just so excited. I just can’t…I just…I’m so happy,” he whispers to me. The pain subsides and so does the anger clenching my heart. I manage to smile back at him and run my hand along his face.
“Sorry I’m such a bitch right now.”
“It’s okay. Bitch away, dear. I couldn’t imagine being you right now. The pain in my stomach from withdrawal was bad enough. This must be terrible. I’m here for your abuse,” he reassures me.
I am still in disbelief at the way Jeremy has been since I moved in with him months ago, after he found out I was pregnant. He’s been so attentive and warm. He barely allowed me to do anything. He picked up after me, cooked for me every night, and waited on me hand and foot. He even planned our whole beautiful wedding, held in an outdoor garden here in Boston.
Jeremy’s phone rings just as the pain in my abdomen starts again. I try to remember those stupid breathing techniques, but they just don’t work. As I scream again, I’m cursing the time I wasted in those damn classes. Jeremy answers the phone, getting up to walk to the end of the bed and putting his finger in his other ear so he can hear over my ear-piercing howling. “Rich
? Outside? Okay!”
Jeremy ends the call and turns to me, rubbing my leg in comfort until my screaming stops. “Dylan? It’s time to go.”
I’m still clenching my jaw against the pain. “Go fuck yourself!”
He picks up the bags on the floor and throws them over his shoulders. “No, that’s what I have you for.”
“Not funny!” I scream, clutching my stomach.
He walks over to my side of the bed and pulls me up by my arms. He places one arm behind my back, trying to help me walk. We must look like quite a pair. Especially with him being overloaded with bags and attempting to basically carry his fat, pregnant wife down the stairs. If someone would have told me either one of us would have been here a year ago, I would have laughed in their face.
Midway down the stairs, of course, the pain starts again in my stomach. I feel it building more and more, clenching harder and harder. I stop walking before I take a tumble, grabbing onto Jeremy and the railing as my knees buckle. I scream and Jeremy grabs me tighter to hold me up. “I’m sorry,” he croons to me.
Before I begin to move again, I feel a gush of water trickling down my legs. At first I’m afraid I’m actually peeing myself, but the flowing doesn’t stop. It keeps coming and coming, down the stairs and pooling on the floor at the bottom.
We both freeze and stare silently towards the floor for a moment. “Oh my God,” I whisper. We turn to look at each other. Jeremy’s expression is calm, but the color has left his face.
“Okay, honey. We have to really get moving now, okay? It’s going to be okay,” he reassures me as we walk a bit faster down the stairs.
I begin to cry, overcome with stress and hormones. “I’m scared!” I yell. We reach the door and Jeremy manages to throw it open without dropping either of the bags. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen,” he says, helping me onto the stairway outside and shutting the door behind him. Rich meets us on the first step, taking the bags from Jeremy. Jeremy wraps his arm around my waist, the other holding my hand as he helps me down the stairs.
I’m surprised to see one or two paparazzi across the street from our home, snapping pictures lazily as we walk toward our black car. I think for a moment about how different they’ve become since Jeremy has lost his mega-celebrity status. Two years ago, they would be attacking us from all sides, blocking my entrance from the car. I wonder idly if there will be a time when there won’t be anyone outside anymore.
My thoughts are cut short as we settle ourselves in the backseat and Rich climbs into the front, starting the car. The pain begins to build again. Each time I think there is no way it could be worse than the time before, and each time it is. The pain is so searing, my sight blackens for a moment. I don’t scream this time. I shake in pain as if I’m seizing and grunt a low, feral sound. Jeremy tightens his grip around me and I can feel his breathing increase.
“Rich!” he yells, knocking hard on the back of the driver’s seat. “Step on it, dammit!” I can tell he’s trying very hard to keep control.
The pain finally subsides again. My muscles ache with the exertion. I feel like I’ve done a thousand sit-ups. Sweat pours down my face, my hair matted to my head. I feel disgusting. I’m wet from head to toe, especially in my underwear.
I reach down under my dress and shimmy out of my maternity underwear, tossing them aside on the floor of the car. I know it’s probably disgusting but I don’t care at this moment. I feel instantly better without them weighing me down, but I notice the pressure in my pelvis has increased since we left the house.
I feel my stomach muscles tightening. “Oh no!” I moan. “No!”
Jeremy tightens his grip on me again. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe. In and…”
“Shut the fuck up!” I scream. The pressure in my pelvis increases ten-fold. “Jeremy,” I moan, leaning back on the seat. “I have to push!”
“No!” he yells at me. “Just hang on a little more, baby. Just a little more.”
“I can’t!” I yell. I will myself not to bear down as the pressure increases.
“Rich, how much longer, damn you?!” Jeremy yells angrily at Rich. I would reprimand him, but I’m not in my right mind. And I’m sure he’s just as scared as I am.
“Five minutes,” Rich yells to the backseat.
Jeremy releases his grip on me and bangs hard on the seat. “Five fucking minutes? Are you crazy, man?”
“Sorry, boss. There was an accident. I had to take a detour.”
Jeremy looks at me in fear as the contraction passes. I return his look. I managed not to push this time, but they are coming every thirty seconds to a minute or so, and I know I won’t be able to hang on for much longer. Jeremy nods, accepting the situation. “Okay,” he sighs. He takes off his white shirt and leans me back on the seat.
“Oh God! What are you doing?” I moan. I lay down anyway. It feels so good. I’m exhausted.
He pushes my dress up and scoots the shirt under my bottom. “Oh my God,” he mutters. “Baby, I see his head.”
I feel the panic rise in my throat. “No!” I cry, moving around. “No! Please! I’m scared!”
“Calm down!” Jeremy tells me, in his soft melodic voice. “It’s going to be okay. Rich, give me your shirt, man. And don’t you dare stop driving,” he warns him. Rich manages to wiggle out of his massive shirt and hand it back to Jeremy.
I feel tingling begin in my lower abdomen. Tears stream down my face. “Jeremy? I’m going to contract.”
I can see over my dress enough to see a terrified expression on his face. “Alright, baby. Try to hold out. But if you can’t, then push. Okay?”
I nod as Jeremy sits Rich’s shirt on his lap. As the pain comes harder and harder, I feel the pressure in my pelvis more than ever before. I bear down almost instinctually, pushing with all my might. I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of their sockets.
“Breathe!” Jeremy yells, startling me into exhaling. I breathe out slowly, still pushing.
“Okay!” Jeremy says. I lean back and moan. “His head is out. Next will be the shoulders.”
“Two minutes man,” Rich says, calmly.
“Is he okay?” I pant simultaneously. Jeremy gives me a small smile. “He’s beautiful,” he sighs. “You’re doing great. Everything is okay.”
I feel the need to push again already. “I’m going to push again in a second, okay?” I warn him. My mouth is dry and I don’t think I can push anymore, but I know I need to.
Jeremy bows his head, letting it fall towards his lap. “Please, God,” he whispers. “Please. Please! I know I’ve been a fuck-up. But please help me. Help my wife. Help my son. I swear I’ll never do another drug again. I’ll be the man I’m supposed to be. I’ll be a good man. Just help my wife and son. Jonathan, help me.”
My heart is breaking but the need has grown unbearable. I scream and bear down, my chin to my chest. I see Jeremy’s head snap up, a determined look in his eye, and reach his hands between my legs. I feel a strange pulling and the pressure subsiding as the baby is pulled free.
I throw my head back as I struggle to keep consciousness. “Is he,” I mumble. “Is he okay?” Jeremy doesn’t answer, and I see through my half-opened eyes his wrestling with the tiny infant in his arms. “Jeremy?” I ask louder, with all my strength.
“Come on!” he yells, his finger moving around in the baby’s mouth. “Please!” he yells in frustration.
“What’s going on?” I yell again.
“He’s not breathing!” Jeremy yells, flipping the infant over and tapping his back at even intervals. My breathing increases and the stress overtakes me. Just before the darkness consumes me, I hear Jeremy breathe a sigh of relief and a baby’s loud, boisterous cry.
“Dylan?” he asks, but I’ve already gone under.
Epilogue
I swear, if I have to pick up one more toy!
There is no way I’m going to be able to look over those contracts in time and keep my house clean. I throw the last block
into the bin and give up, deciding to make my way to the kitchen table to finish my work and worry about the house later.
Just as I sit down at the table and pick up the contract, a block hits me hard on the back of my head. I turn around quickly and see my smiling two-year-old standing behind me. “Jonathan…” I scold, trying to sound mad. He smiles and stares up at me with his devastating blue eyes, a little Jeremy reincarnate.
“Play blocks, Momma…” he begs. I run my fingers through his unruly blonde hair and walk over to the playroom, sitting on the floor in defeat as Jonny walks his bin of blocks over and dumps them on the floor again. He picks up a few blocks and begins to build a simple tower, instructing me on how to put my blocks carefully on the top. A few moments later, we hear the front door open.
“DADDY!” Jonathan screams, taking off in such a rush he knocks the tower over. I turn my head over my shoulder just in time to see Jeremy scoop Jonathan up in his arms and throw him into the air. He gives him a long kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, buddy. Did you miss Daddy?” he says, running his finger through Jonathan’s hair.
“Yes, Daddy. My Daddy!” he yells, throwing his arms around Jeremy’s neck. It’s still a bit weird to see Jeremy dressed so professionally, a suit and tie, but I’m not complaining. I look him up and down until he’s able to put Jonathan down.
“Mr. Ackhart,” I say, standing up and smiling seductively.
“Mrs. Ackhart,” he coos, strutting over to me. He’s still got his strut.
“How was your day?” I whisper as he wraps his arms around me. “Did the recording go well?”
He smiles. “Yes, but the producers want the music in record time. I have to get on writing the rest of the score.”
“You’ll get it done. You always do.” I think Jeremy really found his calling in writing movie scores. It comes so easily to him, as if writing a symphony is as easy as breathing. To him, it probably is.
Trials (Rock Bottom) Page 13
