by Pamela Ann
Reaching for my phone, I took a deep breath before answering with, “What do you want?”
“It’s great to know that you’ve finally managed to pick up one of my calls after leaving you, what, thirty voice messages?” Julien’s replied in that heavily familiar French accent, drawling into my ear.
I had been ignoring his calls on purpose. A part of it was due to the fact that I had made him my cowardly excuse to make Hugo jealous, which was, of course, poorly executed. Even after that heated conversation he’d had with Hugo, Julien had still remained persistent in being a friend to me. It was something to be grateful for. I knew that, and I was grateful … but I wasn’t ready to talk about my disastrous decisions, and given how he had been relentlessly trying to touch base ever since I had gotten back, I had the impression he was going to interrogate me. He probably wanted to hear my side of the story, which wasn’t much really. It was mortifying, yet I knew I had to get this over with sooner or later—well, right this instant, it seemed.
“It’s a moment of weakness. Don’t make me change my mind, Julien.”
He laughed throatily at my attempt to threaten him. “I’m guessing you haven’t listened to any of those messages by the way you’re responding to me. I have no desire to question your motives. I’m just calling to check in to see if you’re doing well.”
Julien was such a great friend, one with immense patience for my sporadic tendencies and Hugo’s temper.
“I’m like what one would expect—not great, but getting on with life, I suppose.” It was a far cry from that, but there was no point in letting the man know how dire my situation really was. He would more than likely relay the message to Hugo, and that would be the last thing I needed. Besides, I was going for a clean slate, and I might eventually have to cut my ties with Julien, as well—temporarily, of course.
“You’ve given me quite a colorful argument with Hugo. It didn’t help that the sadist part of me wanted the poor man to suffer with his own arrogance for a little bit longer than necessary. I suppose I should thank you for that. It truly gave me another chance to tease the jealous fool.”
“Any time.” I wasn’t sure what it was with Julien, but he sure loved to tease and mentally torture Hugo. Maybe it was how they showed they cared for one another … in the oddest ways imaginable. The love-hate dynamic was refreshing in a sense, but anyone who saw them interact could easily see how much they cared for each other. At the end of the day, that was what counted most—to have a friend who would be there through the laughter, nightmares, and tears.
Julien’s long stretch of silence on the other end made me hold my breath for some reason. It should have been my cue to break it, but I didn’t have the wherewithal to do so.
“Isobel, I know this might not be the best time to tell you this, but I just want to say that you did the right thing … for you and for him. I can guarantee you that nothing good would come out of staying with him.”
He and Hugo were always talking in riddles about this forbidden thing they referred to as the “death and danger”; however, neither of them ever divulged what it truly entailed. I had always wondered, but not enough to stop me from following him … until Hugo had completely shut me down.
This conversation with him, though short, left me already exhausted. It reminded me of failed attempts at trying to win the love of my life.
Releasing a melancholic sigh, I closed my eyes and counted to five. “Thank you for the call, Julien. I appreciate the concern and all that you’ve done for me, but I’m afraid I must go. I have school and all that.” In truth, I had no desire to go anywhere except to drown in my bed sheets and cry until I no longer could.
“I understand,” he responded. “I’m still your friend. Don’t hesitate to call me for anything, and I mean anything at all, Isobel.”
Odd how he had emphasized the word anything as if it was a warning and comfort all at the same time.
Shaking my head, I pressed my lips together before nodding. “I will definitely try to remember that. I’ bid you a good day now, Julien. Thank you again for checking on me. Bye for now.” Without waiting for him to respond, I immediately cut the call short.
And just before I was about to slide into bed, my phone beeped with an incoming message from Damen.
What’s going on with your father, Iso? Have you told anyone about what he said? He hasn’t returned, has he? You really should call the police next time he comes. He’s bad news.
Ha. My father. Bad news. Story of my life.
Constantin Callas would do as he pleased. But rest assured, that vile man would not get anything from me anymore. I had done my due, and there was nothing else I could offer him. He would, of course, come back because that was his typical pattern. He was known to threaten to bend me to his will, but that was the past, and I was willing to fight him when the time came.
I did not fear my father. After this heartbreak, I was numb to everything except for that thirsty drive for revenge. My father should know better than to come near me. In my eyes, I was a dead woman walking, waiting to feel her heart beat once more.
Chapter Seven
Isobel
Five days later…
It was barely a few minutes after I had gotten back from my classes, and I was trying to catch my breath when my flatmate arrived.
“I’m feeling peckish,” Claire announced as she entered the flat, all smiles, heavily wearing the signs pointing to fact that she was mighty smitten with Noah.
Beyond happy that her relationship with Noah was going well, I felt the need to oblige her and not ruin that beautiful, silly grin she had pasted on her gorgeous face.
Glancing her way, I tried to give her a decent smile. “I’m not all that hungry, but I could eat, I guess.”
“Brilliant. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses and realized food isn’t the enemy. Would you mind indulging me? Because I fancy some Indian food.” She pouted at me as she wiggled her arched eyebrows at me, trying to be cute.
If I declined her request, she would most likely name me the imp who stole her fixation for Indian food. Anyhow, it would do me the world to be out and about. It had been almost a month after all, so I might as well try to join the land of the living.
“Indulge away as long as you don’t mind me working on my essay whilst eating,” I retorted, shoving my laptop into my tote before glancing back at her. She seemed busy with her phone. “Will Noah be joining us?”
She beamed with her cheeks heavily tinged with pink. “Wouldn’t that be a tad awkward?”
I rolled my eyes at her. Seriously, she needed to get over it. It didn’t matter to me, so it shouldn’t bother her much, though I appreciated her asking in concern of my feelings.
“Claire, I’m one hundred percent okay with it, so please invite Noah. I think it’s high time we get this over with so you will never again question me.”
Her smile became wider. “Ah … You’re the best! Let me send him a quick text. He’ll most likely meet us there since he’s coming from work.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.
At the mention of work, I had this weird, sinking feeling at the thought of working again at the hotel. I loved my job—there was no question about that—but everything about it reminded me so much about Hugo. I knew my hiatus from work wasn’t going to last much longer. I really had to learn how to block him from reappearing in my head at the most inconvenient times.
The restaurant was a few blocks away, and it was one Claire and Noah apparently frequented as of late. Claire’s love came to join us five minutes after we sat down. I almost decided to follow through and work through my school work whilst they ate. Had it been Claire alone, it wouldn’t have mattered, but with Noah, I didn’t want to deem seem disrespectful. Finally deciding to stall my essay until I got home, I focused on the couple before me who eyed each other with such adoration that I about gushed for them. It couldn’t be helped. I adored the both of them.
He was a brilliant man with
even more of a brilliant sense of humor, so it wasn’t that much of a hardship to get consumed in conversation with the both of them when laughter and teasing were involved.
Interrupted by the kind waitress, we halted conversing as we primed our ears for the chef’s special before each of us were handed the menu for perusal.
Scanning the list as my thumb caressed the soft, velvety feel of the heavy-weight paper stock against its pad, I contemplated a delicious looking appetizer before something in my stomach recoiled. Alarmed, I placed my left arm around my belly, hoping it would keep it at bay. Had I eaten something bad? I couldn’t recall.
Holding my breath, I discreetly glanced around the cozy restaurant, noting it was half-full capacity for the dinner rush. Knowing there were a lot of people about, I mentally calculated how many tables ’I would pass before I reached the washroom if the need should arise.
“Have you decided on what to get?” Claire softly inquired towards me while I let my gaze fall on the menu. Instead of seeing the description, everything was a blur. “Should we start with the samosa sampler? It’s quite delicious,” Claire suggested before Noah chimed in, agreeing with her.
Trying to hide my contorted face, I made a hesitant nod. Truth be told, food was the last thing I wanted now. I was terrified to move in fear that I would faint, but the longer I stayed put, the more my stomach rebelled. I sent up a soft prayer and decided to take a sip of water that had been placed before us, hoping my stomach’s rebellion would subside soon enough.
“What’s wrong, my love?” Claire paused, eyeing me with concern, appearing as if she was ready to get up from her seat and take charge of the situation. “You suddenly look purple. Are you ill, Isobel? We can take you home; it’s of no consequence.”
Trying to squash the nauseous feeling away, I immediately shook my head as I made a wan smile towards the couple. “I just feel odd all of a sudden. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I think we should skip dinner and take you home so you can rest.” Noah frowned, mirroring the concerned look Claire had etched on her face.
Past embarrassment, I tried to concentrate on controlling my body’s gagging reflex.
“Give me a moment,” I responded as my thoughts dwelled on the events today. I had been perfectly fine when I got up this morning, so maybe I caught something from school. There was certainly that woman next to me with blotchy skin, endlessly sneezing as she muttered the blame was on her wretched allergies. Recalling it now, she could have been mistaken and gotten me sick in the process.
Claire wasn’t at all convinced as she looked at me like I was coming down with something. “Your health hasn’t been the greatest as of late with your hunger strike and all, if you know what I mean.”
I glared at her, embarrassed that she had to point out something that was a private and sensitive subject in front of Noah. They were dating—I understood that—but I wasn’t prepared to broach such confidences just yet.
“Seriously, there’s no need to point that out, Claire.”
She made an understanding nod. “All right.” She held up her hands as if to say she would never speak of it again before adding, “I apologize. I’m so very sorry.”
Grateful she wasn’t miffed about my defensive reaction, I was about to say I forgave her when I felt this uncontrollable bile coming from my stomach, rapidly racing towards my throat. I hurriedly excused myself, latched my palm against my mouth, and bolted towards the bathroom, ready to expunge the contents of my stomach. I had never moved so fast. Thankfully, I reached the toilet, bending over just in time for horrific liquid fireworks. The damning process seemed to keep on, and just when I thought it was about done, more came out, leaving me breathless and slowly weakening in the process.
Slightly aware of the background, I heard someone open the door to the bathroom, and the second the scent of food wafted through the door, my stomach instantly contracted once again before expelling even more out, making me puke my guts and glory out of my system.
I closed my eyes, feeling completely drained as my hands reached out for a tissue to wipe my mouth. Dear God, that was beyond embarrassing. Had I been out of my mind obliterated, it would have been a different story. This had never happened to me before.
“Isobel, are you in here?” Claire called out, bending over to check in each stall.
“I’m in here, the last one,” I croaked out, the sound of my hoarse voice seeming completely foreign.
Slowly, I leaned against the stall then reached towards the toilet to flush the god-awful crime scene before me. What little I had eaten for the past couple days seemed to have been deposited into it.
“Can I get you anything? A washcloth? Water? Do you feel any better at all after you puked it out?” Claire reached out to squeeze my shoulder, most likely feeling somewhat helpless upon seeing how pale I was.
Merely nodding, my body beginning to resort back to its normal state, I noticed I felt much better, though my stomach felt a bit sore.
“I’m much better. Something about that smell; it’s rather harsh on my nose,” I idly commented, wondering if it would be possible to cover my nose upon exiting the washroom and out of the restaurant without offending the staff.
“I admit the curry aroma doesn’t send one’s sense of smell back to utopia, but naming it harsh is rather extreme. You never complained before, so what’s the difference now?” There was a hint of a smile in Claire’s voice.
Glancing towards her, I gave a small sigh, suddenly wanting to seek the comfort of my bedroom to sleep whatever this was away. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just getting some form of cold or flu.”
She raised her brow. “That’s very likely … or you could also simply be pregnant,” she said pointedly without blinking.
“No,” I instantly denied her statement, knowing the chances were rather nil.
But it’s possible …
All breath left my body as I tried to recall the events of that fated night with the French man. Hugo didn’t finish … We hadn’t … because he couldn’t stand it … He pulled out right in the middle of it.
“It’s just not possible, but to put my mind at ease, I might have to go and get an over-the-counter test.”
Claire shook her head. “Don’t waste money on those. I have a stash in the medicine cabinet.”
It was my turn to frown, suspiciously eyeing her. “Who has a saved stash of pregnancy kits?”
“Duh”!” She rolled her eyes at me. “Women who are in a relationship and for those who have a high sex drive, of course, like yours truly.”
“I don’t want to know.” Knowing Claire, she probably had a tale or two to make me more nervous about taking the damn test. I knew there was nothing to worry about, but since I was already a pitiful wreck, the last thing I needed was to hear pregnancy scare stories.
Claire beamed at me then pulled me in for a comforting embrace. “It’s rather long of a story, but yes, it’s good to always have those along with the emergency pills. You can’t ever be too sure these days. Condoms break, and birth control isn’t one hundred percent fool proof, so I’m just covering all of my angles.”
“Good to know,” I whispered. “I’m going home, but you guys stay for dinner.” I held up my hand before she had the chance to protest. “Please, I know you’re starving, and besides, I need some privacy while I get to it … if that’s okay with you?”
After trying to reassure her that I was perfectly capable of walking a few blocks without getting sick, she and Noah finally agreed to let me go while they continued to dine.
The moment I was out of the restaurant, I was relieved by the fresh, cool air hitting my face, breaking my face into a smile. I had nothing to worry about. It was silly to even consider the possibility, but since Claire had imbedded the idea in my head, there was no way to try to squash it and put my mind at ease until I did the damn test.
The nausea had completely subsided the moment I reached home, much to my relief. Upon Claire’s instruction
s, I entered her bedroom and headed straight to her bathroom cabinet, scouring for one of the kits she had hidden in one of the linen basket organizers. The second my eyes found the pink box, my heart sped up as I tried to calmly breathe, convincing myself there was nothing to worry about. I couldn’t even let myself linger towards the other outcome because the consequences were chilling, too everything to fathom.
Bracing myself, I delved into the contents in the box, pulling out the instructions before reading them cautiously.
“I can do this,” I whispered to myself while I silently chanted a prayer.
Following through with the simple guidelines, I carefully placed the saturated stick on the counter, laying it flat, and waited for the longest three minutes of my life. But after passing merely a minute, I couldn’t stand the anticipation, so I decided to leave the bathroom to change into comfortable clothing.
Seeing the bed calling my name, I almost gave in, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest until I had this pregnancy test out of the way. Therefore, much to my dismay, I strolled back into the bathroom, held my breath, and then glanced down at the result.
The tiny oval screen stared back at me, taunting.
Pregnant 1–3 Weeks.
Bloody. Fuck.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered, gripping the ends of the counter, dumbfounded at the results. I mean, how could it be possible? I knew we hadn’t used protection, but we didn’t even finish because he was too furious to keep going. Sure, there was that miniscule chance of a pre-come, but … but…
“Oh, my fucking God.” My head shook, as if in denial as I kept on staring at the oval screen while my eyes began to blur from the hot tears that formed from this whole fiasco.
What do I do? It couldn’t be helped; I was panicking as my mind zinged a million miles per hour.
This—no matter the outcome—was going to be chaotic. Hell, this was a disaster!
Fuck. God in Heaven Almighty. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. Hugo would probably suggest I get rid of it since I knew he had vowed never to have a child. And since my finances were entwined with his, he would eventually find out. So how did I go my way without him finding out?
