Radiant Point

by Brei Betzold

  I don’t know if I will ever have another child, pregnancy and I do not agree. When you are growing up, you hear about a constant glow and the beauty of creating a child. I discovered what it felt like to throw up while heavily pregnant, that constipation is especially not fun when you have limited avenues to treat it. That stretch marks are not a sexy thing, especially the ones that show up in places other than your stomach. I do not regret my child, but damn did I hate being pregnant.

  When Jeron and I discussed what happened that night, he told me that the he was supporting Chad through some serious shit and things got out of hand. Apparently Chad had knocked up his on-again off-again girlfriend. It was amusing for me to watch the drama unfold, since Chad had been one of the loudest dissents heard when Jeron and I married.

  Chad did what every good boy did, he asked the girl to marry him. Except at this point they were very off again. She had turned him down flat, but a week later showed up on his doorstep with a packed bag. Her daddy wasn’t too thrilled with her for not doing the ‘right’ thing and told her to let the father take care of her because he wasn’t going to.

  They married a month later in a very small private service where everyone pretended they didn’t know that the only reason they were getting married was because of the baby. And this was exactly why I didn’t want to marry Jeron; I didn’t want a loveless marriage made out of guilt and a lifelong commitment. I just hoped they’d find happiness, and let the resentment you could see between them go.

  When I reached twenty-nine weeks, my doctor had me to go into the hospital for twenty-four hours. They were testing my urine for protein. He was concerned about preeclampsia more than ever. When I left, there was no protein in my urine, just an extremely high blood pressure. I was told that I had to come in two times a week for non-stress tests, along with total bed rest. He’d already ordered me to part time work hours, then he said no work at all the last time I saw him, but I was still able to be up and around. His goal was to get me and the baby to thirty-four weeks, but our hope was to make it to thirty-six.

  Bed rest sucks! That’s all there is to it, lying on your side trying to find a comfortable position while a thirty pound bowling ball made you feel like you were going to topple over, sucked. Having your legs, back, arms, body cramp at the same time, sucks. Being so bored you’d literally beg your husband to paint the walls so you can watch them dry instead of watching one more minute of reality television, sucks. Having your sister-in-law tell you it could be worse, you could be in the hospital and then beg her to make it happen, sucks. And I would have taken the hospital at this point; the sad part it’d only been a week, only I was bored and alone as they both went off to work every day. I laid there on the couch or bed, I was allowed fifteen minutes, two times a day to get up and in that time I had to shower, make food, or whatever else I needed to do, it sucked.

  The only good thing that seemed to come from bed rest was that Jeron was home more. He’d come home from work and hang out with me; I found the only way to lie comfortably was with him behind me, his leg nestled between mine to relieve the pressure on my hips. I tried recreating this with pillows, but it wasn’t the same as having his hand on my hip while I leaned against him and he gently rubbed my stomach while our son pummeled and bruised my organs.

  The only good thing I could find about going to see my doctor two times a week was that for those two mornings, I got to have coffee. In order to get my son to wake up and cooperate, I was told to drink a cup of coffee beforehand and this made me very happy. I had missed coffee since I gave it up promptly after I found out I was pregnant. So that’s what I looked forward to, coffee and cuddling with my husband. It was enough to keep me sane; if I didn’t have that I would do nothing but worry about my unborn child. I did that enough already.

  I’d been on bed rest for roughly two weeks when I was awoken by thumping on my front door. At first I tried to ignore it, I figured it was either one of Jeron’s friends or my mother. Neither warranted me to get up from the warm bed, I didn’t sleep for long periods of time these days, I wasn’t willing to waste what I could get. It was when they pounded on the door which was followed with a bellowed police that I scrambled up as quickly as I could to answer the door.

  My palms were sweaty, my heart beat going crazy, and baby Price was rolling around doing cartwheels with the amount of adrenaline I was producing. All I could think was that something bad had happened to Jeron, and I couldn’t lose him. I tried taking a deep breath to calm myself, but it was a useless endeavor. I pulled the door open and yelped when I found five police officers standing on my front porch.

  The officer in the front looked me over, and sighed. “Mrs. Price?”

  I nodded mutely.

  “Are you Elizabeth or Trinity, honey?”

  “Trinity,” I stammered. “Is, is my husband okay?”

  “Yes, we have a warrant to search your home, ma’am.”

  “What? Why?” I gasped.

  Instead of answering, he handed me a sheaf of papers. I unfolded it and my knees began to buckle when I saw the words search and seizure on the top followed by a lot of legalese. The cops hand thrust out and grabbed a hold of me before I fell.

  “Let’s get you sat down.” I let him guide me to the couch and he crouched in front of me. “How far along are you?”

  I bit my lip still staring at the papers. “Thirty-one weeks,” I whispered.

  I watched in a daze as the other four officers came into my home; someone started barking out orders and they went into different rooms.

  “Are you the only one here?”

  I nodded. “I’m on bed rest until I have the baby.”

  He sighed slowly. “Can I ask why?”

  “Uh, high blood pressure.” I sobbed when I heard a noise of something ripping in another room, and something falling on the floor from my kitchen.

  He nodded once. “Why don’t you call someone, honey?”

  “M, my phone is, is in uh my room.”

  “Okay, I’ll go get it for you.” I watched as he walked toward the hallway while the sounds of destruction circled me. I didn’t understand any of this, why were they here?

  He walked back with my phone in hand; I took it from him and dialed Jeron.

  “Jeron!” I cried.

  “Trin, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

  “N, no,” I stuttered, “the police are here.”

  “Fuck,” he groaned, “don’t let them in.”

  “They had a search warrant,” I whispered, even though the cop was sitting beside me and could hear everything I said.

  “God damn it, Trinity!” Jeron shouted, which caused me to hunch over as much as possible and start crying. “Shhh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m on my way, Trin.”

  “Oh, okay,” I murmured and hung up.

  Roughly five minutes later Jeron came running into the house, in that time the police had moved into the living room and I’d been ushered out the front door. His arms wrapped around me and he held me tight, asking if I was okay. Honestly, no I wasn’t fucking okay, I was confused and scared. I was pissed the fuck off, I had to sit there and listen as they destroyed my baby’s nursery and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop them.

  The police officer that had stayed with me eyed Jeron like he was evil incarnate when he walked up. And though he’d been kind to me, I wanted to punch him in the face for it. That was until I doubled over because pain wracked my abdomen.

  “Trin?” Jeron called, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to keep me from swaying.

  “Cramp,” I mumbled while trying to breathe.

  Before anyone else could say anything, the police officer was on his radio requesting an ambulance. I wanted to wave him off, but I was too scared.

  I learned that pregnant women are ignored by paramedics. By the time they arrived the pain had subsided, but they still insisted that I go to the hospital to be checked out. Seemed they were right to ignore me since I’d barely gotten into the ambulance
before I was curling myself over my stomach and panting.

  There have been very few times in my life where I wanted to resort to violence. One of the few times was when I found out that the reason my home was ransacked, that my child’s things were touched by unforgiving hands, was because of my husband. Yea, I wanted to wrap my fingers around his neck and not let go. Drugs, he was suspected of selling drugs. They were there to search our home for fucking drugs.

  I was lying in a hospital bed with straps across my belly while they monitored me for contractions. My doctor thought it was just Braxton Hicks from stress and dehydration, though he was erring on the side of precaution, so I was spending the night. This was when my husband felt the need to explain what had happened that morning.

  A few of his friends were dealers, and he was caught up by association. When I asked him if he had taken drugs, well not marijuana drugs, he looked away guiltily. I knew he wasn’t a boy scout, but fuck really? When I started asking more questions, he changed the subject and started talking about baby names, which we still hadn’t agreed upon yet. I was weak and let him change the subject.

  That evening I kicked Jeron out of my hospital room; Beth had already gone home to clean up the mess. She wanted to make it as stress-free as possible for me when I got there, which I knew meant she was going to focus on the nursery. I could deal with everything else, but having to see my little boy’s things on the floor would crush me.

  I spent the evening thinking and making some decisions. When I finally fell asleep, I was nervous but resolved about what tomorrow would bring.

  What I didn’t expect when I woke up was to find my mother sitting on the chair beside me. What was even more surprising was that she wasn’t yelling at me this time, but staring at my baby bump.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly when she noticed I was awake.

  “You haven’t been all that receptive lately.”

  She nodded and wiped her eyes “Do you know what you’re having?”

  I ran my fingers across my stomach and smiled. “A little boy.”

  She sighed and looked down at the floor. “You’re so young,” she murmured, “what happened to college? To getting out of this town?”

  “I got into college, more than one, but there was no money for me to go.” I shrugged when she looked up at me. “I’ve been going to community college here, getting my basics, and I’m looking into nursing programs near here.”

  “And Jeron, what does he say?”

  “It was his idea for me to continue school in whatever way I could.”

  My mom bit her lip and looked away from me. “I wanted better for you.”

  “I like my life.”

  “If you’d have waited,” she said gesturing at my abdomen, “your life would have been easier.”

  “You’re the one that told me over and over that life wasn’t easy, it was what you made out of it that counts. I have a husband I love, a child on the way that I’m excited about. I’m still following my dream of school, just differently than I originally planned.”

  “He’s going to break your heart, that boy; boys like him they’re all the same.” She glared at me. “He’s nothing but a loser, Trinity.”

  “Well, Jeron’s been there for me when no one else has, when my mother walked out the door and left alone.”

  “I didn’t leave you, you were an adult.”

  “I’d turned eighteen that day, Mother. Hell, you didn’t even tell me happy birthday. Jeron’s been there for me since before you actually moved out. So, sorry if I’m not inclined to believe you, who left me alone after one of the scariest things to ever happen to me.”

  “He’s a drug dealer!” she shouted.

  “No he’s not!” I yelled back, “you don’t know a fucking thing about him.”

  “I know what I’ve been told from a lot of people.”

  “Yea, because gossip is always more reliable than someone who actually knows the truth.”

  “Fine,” she huffed, “if you won’t at least think of yourself, think of your child. What kind of father is he going to be?”

  “One who’s there!” I shot back.

  She snorted. “Right.”

  “He’s already been there more for his child than my father ever was for me.”

  “You’re not listening to reason,” she muttered, “I’m going to go.”

  “Yea, you do that.”

  I watched my mother walk away, yet again, though this time it didn’t hurt as badly. Probably because she was rude and insulting, but not as bad as she’d been the past year when we interacted. I didn’t expect some huge reconciliation between us anytime soon, but I didn’t fail to notice she never once apologized for her previous behavior.

  I was released to go home that afternoon, with strict instructions to drink lots of water, and follow my bed rest orders. My OBGYN was not impressed with yesterday’s activities, and warned that if I ended up at the hospital again, I wouldn’t be leaving without a baby in my arms.

  When Jeron and I got home, I grabbed his hand and led him back to our room. I was glad to see that most of the mess from yesterday had been cleaned up. Especially since I wasn’t able to help, watching Beth run around cleaning would have made me feel like shit.

  “You and I need to talk,” I practically growled. I gently lowered myself on the bed and glared up at my husband. “I can’t stop you from using drugs, even though I really want to; I know that it won’t stop you.” Jeron opened his mouth but I held up my hand. “I don’t want to know, I’m hoping this was something you’ve done occasionally, but I will warn you now, I will not stay in our home if you bring drugs into it. I will pack up our son and I will leave.” I looked him straight in the eye, “If what happened yesterday happens again, I will leave. Do you understand?”

  “Trinity, I swear I’ve never brought drugs into this house, and I’ve never sold drugs. Some tweaker got busted and named me among my friends.” He rubbed his hands across his face. “Yea I’ve done meth a few times, but I promise I’d never do anything to put you or the baby into any kind of trouble, I love you both too much.”

  I took as deep of a breath as I could and let it out slowly. I wasn’t sure if I believed him or not, but I decided I was going to take him at face value. I also knew I meant what I said; I would leave before I ever put my child in that situation.

  I nodded and watched as the tension in his shoulders eased. “Come, Trin, let’s get you in bed, then I’ll get you some juice.”

  I watched Jeron leave and relaxed into the mattress. I was grateful to be back home. While the hospital was nice because there were people to talk to, the bed was uncomfortable and lacked the space our queen mattress held. Before Jeron made it back, I was fast asleep, dreaming of a blue-eyed, blond baby boy.

  Reggie Price to this day confuses me. The first time I met him I wanted to kick him in the balls, then minutes later I wanted to hold him. While Jeron looks very little like his father, I understood exactly where he got his personality. They both drove me insane while I fell in love with them at the same time.

  Beth decided I needed to have a baby shower, so when I was thirty-three weeks pregnant, and big as a barn, that’s what she did. I left everything to her since I didn’t want one to begin with; the idea of being the center of attention didn’t sit well with me. For some crazy reason she decided it would be coed, so all of Jeron’s friends came along with their current flavors.

  What really surprised me was that Beth and Jeron’s father, Reggie, was planning on attending as well. When Jeron found out, he threw a fit before storming out of the house. Not that I could blame him since his dad and he hadn’t talked in years, but on the other hand I was a little pissed. He was acting like a toddler who didn’t want to go to bed over the whole thing.

  The day of the party, I laid on the couch and watched my sister-in-law run around getting everything ready. I almost felt bad about not being able to help, and then I remembered that this party was centered around
my belly. That kind of shot all guilt I had out the window.

  And that is how I first met Reggie Price, lying on the couch laughing at his daughter who was hopping up and down on a kitchen chair trying to hang baby blue streamers for my baby shower. I didn’t exactly want the first time I met my father in law to be while I was lying on my back, laughing at his daughter while she nearly fell on her ass, but that was the way it happened. He though just shook his head at Beth, glanced over at me and nodded then went and helped her.

  “So, you’re the girl my son knocked up,” he said while reaching up to the ceiling, taping up streamers.

  “No, I’m the woman your son married and is starting a family with,” I corrected.

  Jeron’s dad stared at me for a moment before he went back to helping Beth. “You know he killed his mother.”

  Beth inhaled sharply and I glared at Reggie. “No, I don’t know that actually,” I spat. I ran my hand over my stomach feeling my son kick me. “What I do know is that your wife died tragically, and too soon. I also know it was an accident.” I cut a look at him. “I also have learned that there is nothing a mother wouldn’t do for their child.”

  “She would be here to meet her grand kid if he hadn’t called her that night.”

  “That’s true,” I murmured, “but then again your son may have died instead, then there would be no grandson to have.”

  “If he wouldn’t have been stupid and gone out and gotten drunk to begin with,” he trailed off.

  “He did what every other teenager does; the difference is that he had a mother who cared enough to know she loved him. She loved him enough to beat into his thick skull that safety matters.”

  “You didn’t know her,” he pointed toward me, “don’t act like you did.”

  “I don’t have to know her; I’ve met the two amazing kids she raised.”

  “My son was irresponsible.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that point. I get that you’re grieving and angry about what happened with your wife, but you’re blaming your son who already blames himself. What would your wife say about the way you’ve been treating her son?”