Radiant Point

by Brei Betzold

  “First of all, you never asked, you just said we’re getting married, and I never agreed when you said it.”

  “You didn’t deny it,” he said pointing at me.

  “Nope, but I didn’t say much of anything that day, I was in shock.”

  “You don’t want to get married?” he asked, clearly hurt.

  I didn’t want to hurt him, but marriage was such a huge step, and we were so young. I didn’t want our child to suffer because we made an impetuous decision.

  “I don’t think having a baby is a good reason to get married.”

  “I don’t want to marry you because you’re having my baby.” I just looked at him and he started to squirm. “Okay, so I wouldn’t have brought up marriage yet if it wasn’t for the baby, but, Trin, you have to know that this was going to happen eventually. I thought you’d finish school first, I’d ask you to marry me and then we’d start a family.” He smiled and I felt my heart lurch. “We’re just running a bit ahead of schedule.”

  I scoffed. “A bit?”

  He sighed, loudly. “Is that all you heard? Trin, I love you, I want to spend my life with you, and I want to grow old with you, have babies with you. Please, marry me?”

  I sniffed, damn pregnancy hormones.

  I opened my mouth to give another argument but he leaned in and kissed me. Then reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box, he took my hand and laid the box in it before he closed our hands over it. “Please?”

  “Fine.”

  “Does that mean yes?”

  I huffed. “Yes, fine I’ll marry you.”

  He smiled brightly before kissing me hard. “I love you, Trin.”

  “I love you too, Jeron.”

  He opened the box, and nestled in the satin was a white gold band with a small solitaire round cut diamond. He pulled it out, reached for my hand and gently slid it onto my finger.

  “May thirtieth?”

  “Sure, why not?” I mumbled, my eyes glossing over in tears.

  On May thirtieth, Jeron and I went down to the court house where the Justice of the Peace married us. It was the second most amazing day of my life. I stood beside the man I loved, vowing to spend eternity with him, our child nestled safely in my womb.

  I’ve been asked if I would have changed things if I knew how we would end up; my answer is always the same, no. I love Jeron, I love our child.

  I never planned to marry at the ripe old age of nineteen. I never planned on getting pregnant either, so what did I know. Though life definitely wasn’t easy, I can’t say that I’d do it differently. Jeron and I had a rough time, but the good far outweighed it all. I’m left with good memories that overshadow the bad, and to me they balance each other. You can’t have good without bad; if you did you’d never appreciate the truly amazing moments of your life.

  Jeron and I hadn’t really told anyone about us getting married. We told his sister, but that was more out of self-defense. If she found out after the fact, she would have murdered us. I didn’t have anyone to really tell, my mother wouldn’t be happy for me, and Jeron just didn’t feel like it. Beth planned on coming down in a few weeks and we’d celebrate then.

  So you can imagine people’s reactions when we met up for lunch the next day with a few of his friends and we were wearing wedding bands. It was his best friend Chad that noticed first, and his face was classic. His mouth fell open, and he started gaping like a fish pointing at my finger that had two very distinct rings.

  At first they thought it was a joke, and I could tell that pissed Jeron off. I’m not sure if they thought they couldn’t believe Jeron would marry someone like me, or that we were playing a late April fools prank. Though I like to pretend it was the latter, I’m pretty positive it was the first. They, to this day I think, can’t understand why Jeron would marry me. Granted after they found out I was pregnant they laid off of him, after all he was doing what was right, right?

  Except on more than one occasion I heard whispered conversations amongst them and the girls that hung out with him. Why would he marry her? She’s not good enough for him. Or my favorite, how did he get her pregnant, she’s fat. I would get pissed and hurt when I heard this; what does it matter to them that Jeron and I were together? And when I asked Jeron about it he’d just hug me and tell me they were jealous. He loved me, I was beautiful, and his opinion is the only one that mattered.

  Two weeks after the wedding, Beth came to visit. While we told her about the wedding, we didn’t tell her about the pregnancy. Neither Jeron nor I thought it would be the best idea to tell her over the phone after her own ordeal. When we did tell her, I could see the pain in her eyes, though she plastered a fake smile on her face. She hugged us both, said congratulations, but I could tell how much it hurt her.

  Jeron had to work the day of my doctor’s appointment, so Beth came with me instead. I would have been fine going on my own, but she insisted and I knew Jeron felt better with someone coming with me. I was thirteen weeks along and everything was looking perfect. When we heard the heartbeat, Beth and I both cried, her gripping my hand tightly.

  That same day, Beth sat down Jeron and I; she wanted to come back to live with us. She said while she needed that place to hide before, now she felt alone and isolated. Their dad was rarely around, and she hadn’t been able to get close to anyone there, she missed us. We of course told her yes, we both loved Beth and had missed her as well. The idea of her being back in our home didn’t take a moment’s thought.

  That weekend Beth and Jeron went to pack her things and move her back. I stayed home since I had to work, and it wasn’t like either of them were going to let me help. They’d both become even more overly protective since my last doctor’s appointment. While everything was fine, my blood pressure was a little high. Honestly, I wasn’t even planning on telling Jeron about the blood pressure, but Beth sold me out while giving me the stink eye. And then Jeron found out that most women didn’t have morning sickness past the first trimester, yet mine continued on; he’d decided I was to do nothing except rest. Only that wasn’t feasible; we had bills to pay, money to save, and I was working toward the assistant manager position over the entire store instead of just my section, that was about to open up.

  Both complained about leaving me alone, but I just shoved them out the door and locked it. I knew Jeron would have his friends checking on me, even though he was only leaving for overnight. I rubbed my very slight baby bump and rolled my eyes at them. Then went to get ready for my shift, I loved working at the book store. And since both Jeron and I had decided it would be nearly impossible for me to go back to school in the fall, I was going to enjoy it before I had to take a break from it as well.

  I went into work expecting that day to be the same as any other, and I was sadly mistaken. For whatever reason, my mother decided that it would be a good idea to storm into my work place. She’d heard about me marrying Jeron, and to say she wasn’t impressed would be an understatement. I was just lucky that we still hadn’t told people besides Beth about the baby, or I think she would have had a stroke.

  She stood amongst shelves of books screaming, stomping her feet, crying. And I stood there like a deer in headlights, I was so fucking embarrassed. Having your mother telling you that you’ve ruined her life, that you were a white trash slut, not good. Then she grabbed my arm and started shaking me, and my mind just went blank. I just shut everything out like I’d done when I was little and being taunted by kids in school.

  Finally my manager came rushing toward her; he carefully removed her talons from my arm and showed her the door. I just stood there staring at the floor. In a small part of my brain, I knew I was in shock, but then again who wouldn’t be after being treated like that by your mother. Her recriminations were flooding my brain, and I buckled, the tears finally coming as I wrapped my arms around my legs. I just wanted her voice to leave my head, and I made a vow to my child that I would never treat him or her like that.

  When my manager came back, he a
sked if I needed him to call Jeron, I just shook my head. The last thing I wanted was for Jeron to haul ass back home; knowing him he’d speed the entire time, and the thought of something happening to him caused my stomach to cramp. My manager sent me home as we both knew I’d be useless at work for the rest of my shift. He also told me to take tomorrow off as well. I apologized and he reassured me that he didn’t fault me for what happened, that my job was safe and then I scurried out the door.

  I drove home wondering what happened to the mom I knew. She’d always been dramatic, but even for her this was over the top. I missed the mom who was mildly affectionate to me, the one who smiled at me; I didn’t know where she went. I just know that after her boyfriend attacked me, she disintegrated.

  I spent the rest of the day on our couch; when someone knocked, I dutifully opened the door told them I was fine and slammed it shut again. I watched horrible television, talked to my baby, and slept. Anything to not think about my mom and what she said to me.

  When Jeron walked in the door the next evening, I lost all my sought after control. I broke down and cried on his chest, while I told him about what happened. He held me close, and I could feel the rage bubbling under the surface, but he was so gentle with me. Told me over and over that she was wrong, I was such a good girl and he loved me. Beth sat on the other side of me and rubbed my arm, and I closed my eyes. I let my family hold me up, and I took solace in their strength.

  I look back and I can see where things started to change, where we should have zigged instead of zagged. Where a decision here or there changed the fabric of our lives later. I want to scream at my past self to not do this, I want to scream at the past Jeron and beg him to stop. Only I can’t, the decisions once made cannot be unmade; you can only hope they are the right ones. And when they’re not, you can only live with those choices.

  When I was eighteen weeks pregnant, Beth, Jeron and I crammed into the small room at my doctor’s office to watch our tiny miracle on the small sonogram screen. We were all anxious to find out that the baby was healthy, and excited to find out if we’d be buying pink or blue. I thought it was a boy, Jeron swore it was a girl, and Beth went back and forth daily.

  I was just glad we had a three-bedroom house; I had absolutely no interest in moving. Once we found out, I was going to have fun filling that empty room with things for our child. Not that I hadn’t already secretly started, a book here, a blanket there. I couldn’t resist.

  I was definitely showing now― it was like I went to sleep one night with a tiny baby bump that only Jeron and I noticed, and I woke up with half a basketball shoved under my shirt. I’d had to go shopping so I could find pants that would fit me, and I found that I hated maternity pants. The elastic band that covered my stomach was tight and itched. If I could get away with it, I would have worn yoga pants and shorts everywhere.

  We stared in awe as tiny little arms and feet flailed around; it was amazing to see what I’d recently began to feel. One of my and Jeron’s favorite past times was to sit watch a movie and just feel the baby moving. I was told that the wonder would eventually fade, except it never did. Feeling this tiny person, whom you helped create, moving inside yourself never got old.

  “Mom, Dad, do you want to find out the sex?”

  I grinned. “Yes.”

  While Jeron started to look a little pale, I squeezed his hand while I watched the tech move around the wand she was pressing onto my stomach. I savored the sound of our baby’s heartbeat while I waited excitedly. Then the screen paused and the tech pointed.

  “Congrats, you’re having a little boy.”

  I gasped and started to cry, while Jeron’s fingers flexed in mine. Beth smiled brightly and clapped.

  I looked up at Jeron who was looking even paler if possible. “You okay?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yea, just wow.”

  I think it was at that moment that it truly became real for Jeron. Yes we’d seen the baby before, but it didn’t exactly look like a baby. Now though, as we watched as our son moved, kicked, sucked his thumb, you couldn’t deny what was happening. And it scared him I think, the idea of having this tiny person reliant on him.

  After printing and handing us pictures, we were ushered across the hall for my monthly appointment. My blood pressure was much higher than my doctor would like it, and I was told I had to rest and reduce my stress. When I confessed to swelling in my feet and ankles, I thought Jeron was going to throttle me. I hadn’t told him, except in my defense it was a new occurrence. I hadn’t thought much about it.

  Since I had such a physical job, my doctor wanted me to either reduce my hours or find a way to sit more often. I knew it wouldn’t be a problem. My manager was already on my ass for not resting enough; it wasn’t uncommon for him to demand I sit behind the information counter instead of being on the floor.

  When we made it home, Jeron wouldn’t let me off the couch. The list of things to watch for that the doctor gave us scared him. At this point, we didn’t know if there was anything wrong, or if was just me over-straining myself. I cooperated with Jeron as I sat on the couch and looked at the pictures of my little boy.

  I started running name ideas around in my head; I knew what I wanted for his middle name. It was just finding a first name that would fit with the rest. So that’s what Jeron and I did the rest of the day, until it became a game of finding the worst name possible. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. And I could see some of the stress melt off of Jeron as we competed and laughed.

  After that night though, things started so subtly shift. Jeron, who had become as much of a homebody as I was, started going out again. I didn’t think much of it really, just him going and hanging out with his friends while he still could. I didn’t notice when it became something that happened more and more often. I was too busy getting ready for the baby, Beth and I had started shopping for the things we’d need.

  While I slowly filled the nursery, Jeron slowly moved further away from me. We started to notice shifts in him, he was almost hyper at times, while at others all he did was sleep. The first time he didn’t come home for twenty-four hours had us both scared. We were certain he was lying in a ditch somewhere. When he walked in like he didn’t have a care in the world, I thought Beth was going to murder him. I wasn’t above the idea myself.

  When he didn’t come to my next appointment I was disappointed, but I understood. He had to work, as did Beth, so I went alone. My blood pressure still hadn’t improved, and the numbers were starting to alarm my doctor. Instead of my usual monthly appointments, he wanted to see me every two weeks.

  I went to Jeron’s work after I left; I wanted to take my husband out to lunch and tell him about what the doctor said. Only when I got there, I found out that he hadn’t gone to work; he’d taken the day off because of my doctor’s appointment. I went home expecting to see him there, since he wasn’t answering his cell as I thought he might have fallen asleep.

  When I got there, the house was empty. I tried calling him again with still no answer. I called Beth who said she hadn’t seen him since this morning, but I hung up before she could ask more questions. I gingerly sat on the couch, rubbing my belly as my son rolled and move about. I finally decided to call his best friend Chad, and when he answered I could hear Jeron’s voice in the background. However, when I asked if Chad had seen him, he lied to me. I could hear my husband talking, and his best friend said he hadn’t seen him in a few days.

  My mind raced with possibilities while I hung up on Chad. Why was Chad lying? Where were they? What was my husband hiding? Was he cheating on me? So many thoughts ran through my head, none were good.

  When it came time for me to go to work that day I still hadn’t heard from Jeron. I tried calling him once more while I walked out the door, this time it went straight to voicemail. Work seemed to last forever and when we finally closed the store, I rushed home. I’d been praying all afternoon that I’d walk in and Jeron would be sitting there. He’d tell me that it was all a
big misunderstanding.

  I knew when I pulled up that he wasn’t there, except I refused to admit it to myself. When I walked in the door, the only person to greet me was Beth. And I lost it; I told her everything about today. When I was finished, she hugged me, grabbed her keys and went out the door.

  I wiped my tears and went to the nursery. I refolded tiny baby clothes, blankets, and anything else I could find. I just needed to do something with myself that didn’t include thinking about my husband having sex with another woman.

  I knew I was gaining weight; I didn’t look the same as I had when we first started our relationship. I was pregnant, so of course my body was changing. Did I disgust him now? Is that why he was finding other women to fuck? I ran my fingers over my extended abdomen and talked gently to my son. I loved this baby, I didn’t regret a thing.

  Eventually I went to bed; I was exhausted after working these days. When I woke up the next morning, it was to find my bed empty except for me. I got up and dressed, then went in search of food. While I was fixing myself some fruit and yogurt, my phone rang. I rushed into the living room where it was sitting on the coffee table. I answered without looking. Jeron croaked out a hello and then asked if I’d come and bail him out of jail. I closed my eyes tightly and agreed.

  While I waited for him to be processed out, I thought of the various reasons he would have been arrested. When he walked out I wanted to cry, hug him, and beat him. He walked out as if nothing was amiss, like I hadn’t just spent the last day worried about where he was. We left the precinct and didn’t talk; I knew if I opened my mouth I would yell at him. I didn’t want to get into a fight.

  When I got him home, he went straight to our room and passed out. I was just grateful it was his day off work. I left him there and went to work. I still didn’t know the details; he wasn’t talking much and I wasn’t talking at all.