I trudge up behind him, feeling heavier than I used to. I know I still have a long way to go before I’m due, but this all feels so real now. My body feels fuller and, from time to time, I can feel little flutters inside as the baby moves around. For the first few months the only proof I seemed to have of being pregnant was my sudden sensitivity to the smell of pork being cooked and being exhausted all the time. I’m glad the pork thing passed, because I missed my bacon. Now, with my belly growing rounder, this all feels concrete. I can’t wait to meet my little bub.
“I hope you’re prepared to be amazed,” Connor leads me down the hall he constructed in front of the rooms he segmented off from the once massive, open loft.
We discussed a ton of ways to put a child’s nursery in this place, but always kept coming back to this solution. I didn’t want to be sleeping on different floors from the baby, and having the little one in our room would only be a temporary solution. Even though we both loved the wide expanse that the loft provided, it just made the most sense to section it off into proper bedrooms.
“Here we go,” Connor practically tugs me into the room, “ta-da!” He looks around admiringly as I try to look cheerful at the colorful nursery he constructed.
“It looks great,” I tell him honestly, but my heart is not in it. My words ring flat.
“You don’t like it?” He looks over nervously, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.
What’s not to like? From the mobile of hot air balloons hanging over the crib to the pale yellow walls and beautiful rocker in the corner, no detail has gone overlooked. My son or daughter will be happy to grow up in such a lovely room, with a father who’s so attentive.
“I do, I really do. I’m just tired,” I lie.
Connor studies my face, his neatly trimmed beard twitches as he looks me over.
“It’s something more than that. Tell me what’s going on, do you hate the room? I still have time to fix it if something is bothering you,” he looks around exasperated.
“No, it’s not the room,” I hold up my hands in protest.
“Then there is something bothering you,” he points at me. “Alright, spill it. Did you have another crazy dream that I was cheating on you? I told you before that it’s not fair to be angry at me for something you dream about. Those hormones are making you all coo-coo,” he puts his arms on my shoulders and pulls me into him, smiling.
“No, nothing like that,” I laugh.
“Well, what then?” His eyes narrow and his eyebrows furrow.
“It’s just…” I take a deep breath, “it’s been over two months and I still haven’t heard from Marcus.” I confess. “I know I should just let it go, but I can’t. It hurts that he doesn’t even care enough about the baby to put all this nonsense behind us. He’s the only family I have, but I’m also the only family he has left too. And it doesn’t seem to make any difference to him. I’m just, well, sad I guess,” I look up into Connor’s face and watch him mull over my words. I know there’s nothing he can do to fix this. It’s on Marcus now, and I’m starting to realize that my brother has no intention of trying to make amends.
“How about this,” Connor’s broad hands slide down my arms and he cups my hands in his, “this Sunday, what do you say you and I stop in for his service. Maybe we can try to talk to him after. I bet he’s missing you too, but he’s just stubborn. Marcus never did know how to say he was wrong. If we show up at the church, maybe it’ll give him the chance he needs,” he looks into my eyes and just like that, he manages to sweep away my burden. My pain.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I smile up at him. “And I do love this nursery. I can’t believe you did all this with your two hands.”
“You should see what else I can do with these hands,” he murmurs and cups my face toward his, covering my mouth with a soft, lingering kiss.
Electricity buzzes from his fingertips over my skin. It’s amazing that we’ve been living together for a couple of months now and I still get a little thrill every time he touches me. Especially when he’s got that look on his face.
“I think I’d like to see what else they can do,” I purr in his ear and let out a little squeal as Connor scoops me off my feet and marches me out of the nursery and down the hall to our room.
I kick my feet in the air playfully, giggling as he tosses me gently down on the bed. I bounce on the mattress and watch shamelessly as he peels off his tight, white t-shirt. He begins to undo his tool belt when I sit up straight.
“No!”
“No?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“You can take off the pants, but leave the tool belt on,” I murmur, feeling flushed all over.
“There’s my naughty girl,” he smirks down at me as he kicks his jeans off.
Connor leans over the edge of the bed and tugs my shirt up over my head. I lift my arms up as he frees me from the fabric. He quickly digs his fingers in under the waistband of my yoga pants and panties and rips them both down my legs in one, long pull.
“Shit, you’re hurt! What’s going on?” He holds the Lululemon yoga pants in his hand, with my thong still inside, and looks down at my legs in horror.
“What are you talking about?” I follow his gaze and see the streak of bright red blood on the cream-colored quilt between my legs.
Instinctively, I grab my belly and pat my fingers over my pussy, holding them up in front of my eyes. I want to scream at the crimson coating running down the sides of my hand but when I open my mouth no noise comes out.
“Fuck, are you having a miscarriage?” I can hear the panic in Connor’s voice. He never panics. “We need to get you to the hospital, right now,” he plucks me from the bed but I’m in a daze. I feel like this can’t be happening. It’s not real. I’m going to wake up from another vivid, crazy pregnancy dream and ask Connor to get me some water. It’ll all be alright.
“Lottie, come on, get dressed,” Connor snaps me back to the present. “I’ve got to get you to a doctor now!”
Shit. This isn’t a dream. If I’m losing this baby, I don’t think I’ll ever dream again. Because this is a nightmare.
26|Connor
I race down the worn, dirt road trying to toe the line between fast and reckless. My tire sinks down into a huge pothole and Charlotte and I both bounce around the cab.
“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t see that one,” I glance at her face. “How are you doing over there? Are you in any pain?” I want to grab her hand, or throw my arm around her, but right now I’ve got my paws at ten and two. I might not pass any driver safety course for this commute, but I’m doing the best I can to get her to the hospital quick and safe.
“I’m not sure,” she rubs her hands over her belly. “I can’t tell if I’m cramping up or if my stomach is just doing backflips because I’m worried.”
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” I’m not sure if I’m trying to reassure her or convince myself. The blood that first trickled out onto the blanket picked up. When she stood up, it flowed down the insides of her legs down to her knees. I want to believe that Charlotte and the baby are going to be fine, but I need to hear it from a doctor to believe it.
“Hang on, I’m speeding up,” I warn her as I finally finish with the dusty back road and pull out onto the freeway. It takes all of my self-control not to flatten the pedal to the floor. The city slides past us in a blur of fluorescent lights as I make my way to the Jubilee hospital.
“We’ll be there in no time, just let me know if anything changes, alright? Are you still good?” I quickly look over at her and can see the worry etched into her beautiful face.
“I’m good,” she answers unconvincingly.
“Okay,” in a stroke of luck I sail through a green light and swoop around a corner, following the hospital signs.
I know it only takes a few minutes, but it literally feels like hours before I pull up in front of the emergency entrance and throw the truck into park. Racing around to the passenger side, I help Charlotte out onto
the ground and guide her inside through the automatic double doors.
The tired looking triage nurse doesn’t even look up at us as Charlotte eases into her seat. “Do you have insurance?” She waits for her answer with her fingers hovering over the keyboard of her computer.
“Yes, through work,” Charlotte answers.
Clackety-clack.
“What’s the problem?” The silver haired, white woman still doesn’t actually meet either of our eyes.
“She’s almost five months pregnant and she’s bleeding,” I cut in, trying to move this along.
“What color is the blood,” the nurse answers flatly.
“What color? It’s red, what color do you think it is?” My temper flares and I grit my teeth together.
“Sir, I need you to calm down. I’m talking to the patient. The blood, is it bright, dark, brownish?” She finally glances up at Charlotte. “The more information I have the better.”
“Bright red,” Charlotte clasps my hand and gives it a squeeze. Even in this state she finds time to try to calm me down. She’s an angel.
After the interrogation is over, the nurse asks us to take a seat in the waiting room. We sit down beside one another, our fingers threaded together, and wait. Luckily it doesn’t take too long before a man who looks like he’s dressed up as a nurse for Halloween comes to the end of the hall and calls out, “Charlotte King.” He shakes his head when we both rise to our feet. “I’m sorry sir, but we’re just taking Ms. King in for examination right now. I’ll come and get you once it’s over.”
“What?” I practically choke on the word.
“It’s going to be fine, Connor. Take my phone, please, call my brother and tell him what’s going on. I want him to know, please,” she drops her cell in my hands and follows the nurse down the hall and out of sight.
Could this night get any worse? I immediately regret the thought, I don’t want to tempt fate into showing me just how much worse this whole thing can get. I don’t want us to lose our baby, or for anything to happen to Lottie.
Sighing, I open her phone and bring up Marcus’ contact. I don’t want to overthink it, I just push the ‘call’ button and listen to the rings in my ear.
“Hullo,” my old friend’s familiar voice cuts through my swirling thoughts.
“Marcus?”
“Connor? Why are you calling me?” He sounds like he’s biting off his words.
“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, Lottie is in trouble, she’s bleeding. We’re at the Jubilee and we don’t know but she might be having a miscarriage,” I wait for an answer but don’t hear anything. I twist the phone away from my ear and look down at the screen. The call timer stopped. That son of a bitch hung up on me!
Rage boils up from my chest and splashes up my throat, “Fucker!” I throw the phone on the floor and the screen shatters.
“Sir!” The tired nurse at the triage desk stands up and levels me with her narrow slits for eyes.
“Sorry,” I pick up the broken phone that I’m going to need to replace and push it into my jeans pocket.
“If you have any more violent outbursts, I’m going to have you escorted out by security,” she points her finger at me and I feel like a kid in elementary school being sent to the principal’s office.
“I understand,” I run my hand over the back of my burning neck and ignore the stares of the other people in the room waiting.
I understand all right, I slump down in a seat and feel my anger coil up inside me. I understand that Marcus is damned lucky he’s not here right now, because if he was I’d be getting dragged away by more than a rent-a-cop. If that asshole was here right now he’d be the one getting seen by a doctor because I’d crush his windpipe with my fist.
27|Connor
My balled-up fists unfurl as the anger inside me slips away and my fears and sadness shroud me in a fog. I don’t want to feel like this. I try to focus my emotions into something that feels more constructive somehow, my anger at Marcus. However, each time I think about beating him or yelling at him the other thoughts slide in and overwhelm me.
Is Charlotte alright?
Is she losing the baby?
How can I ever make this okay?
It never will be.
A child I never knew I wanted turned our entire world upside down and now it seems like it might leave our lives before we ever get a chance to meet. It doesn’t seem fair to love someone that you’ll never know. The ache in my heart is too much, I slump over in my seat and bury my face in my hands as the tears I can’t control fall from my eyes.
I don’t care if people are staring or what they think. After everything Charlotte and I have been through, this can’t be happening.
It just can’t be.
“Connor?” A warm hand squeezes my shoulder and I twist my tear-stained face up to the familiar voice.
“Marcus?”
I can see from his bloodshot eyes that he’s been crying too. He nods slowly and walks around the chairs to sit next to me.
“I didn’t think you were coming, you hung up,” I start to dig into him, but I don’t have the energy to fight. The truth is, I’m happy to see him.
“I’m sorry about that, I raced over here as soon as you told me,” he points down at his gray slippers as if his plaid pajamas with a summer coat thrown over top, isn’t proof enough.
“Where is she?” He eases back in his chair and looks around the room.
“The doctor is seeing her now,” I wipe away my tears and clear my throat.
“It’s going to be okay,” he looks back at me calmly. For a second, I catch a glimpse of the best friend I once had. The boy who always had my back. My blood brother.
“I don’t know about that,” I breathe out shakily. “I don’t know how much more heartbreak Charlotte can take,” it’s not an accusation, but I can see it lands on Marcus’ face like a slap.
“I’m sorry I was so hard on her. I’ve been praying a lot on this and, I’d like us to leave the past in the past, Connor. I’d like us to start over,” he slides his hands down his pant legs and looks at me from the corner of his eyes.
Marcus was never good at apologies. Usually, when we were growing up, he'd have an epic meltdown and then, when it was over, everyone just moved on like it never happened. At least he’s trying to make things right this time. That’s more than I can say about myself.
The realization twists like a knife in my gut as it occurs to me that I’ve never properly apologized myself. Ever since his old girlfriend jumped me in the tent back on prom night, things always blew up when I tried to talk to Marcus. After all these years, I still haven’t said I’m sorry for my part in his pain.
“Hey man, I’d like if we could bury the hatchet. I miss having you as my friend,” I admit.
“Me too,” he looks down at his feet.
“Listen, Marcus, about Sandra…”
“We don’t have to get into this now,” Marcus cuts me off abruptly.
“I don’t want to get into it either,” I ignore him. “I want to say I’m sorry. I know I never went out of my way to sleep with her, I didn’t even realize what was going on or who it was with until it was too late, to be honest,” I watch as Marcus begins to puff up his chest, sitting up straighter in his seat. “Let me finish,” I hold up my hands to stop the anger I can see rising inside him like the mercury on a barometer.
“Fine,” he clamps his dark lips together.
“But it doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you. I betrayed you and for that, I owe you a huge apology. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me so we can move on. You’re still my family. At least, that’s how I think of you. That’s never changed.” I hold out my hand and hope that Marcus can let go of his pride enough to hear the sincerity in my words. I hope he can give me another chance.
His thick, black hand engulfs mine and we shake to letting past mistakes go and giving a future where a friendship is possible again, a chance.
�
�I’d like that,” he answers, his dark eyes shining with tears that he blinks back.
“Great, so would I,” we drop our hands and the heartwarming moment is short lived as we both sit in silence thinking about Charlotte.
“How long has she been in there?” Marcus interrupts the rabbit hole of worry that my mind begins to fall down.
“They took her in right away, like when I called you,” I gaze over at him.
“It wasn’t all your fault. It was mine,” Marcus clears his throat and studies his palms.
“What do you mean?” I watch his eyebrows knit together as he twists his mouth to the side like he’s wrestling with a secret he’s not sure if he should spill.
“That night with Sandra, it was my fault, not yours. All this time, every time I’ve heard your name or seen your face, it just,” his voice cracks, “it brought it all back. It made me face my demons and I wasn’t prepared to admit what I did. She slept with you to put the final nail in a coffin I built. She wanted to make sure that her and I could never repair our relationship, but I pushed her to that edge. I pushed her there and then I pushed her off.”
I try to make sense of what Marcus is confessing. I know him and Sandra had problems, but they never seemed more intense than any other high school couple. Just normal drama.
“What do you mean?” I search his face for clues.
“You know I’ve always been cursed with this temper,” he twists his hands together like he’s trying to wash away the memory.
“I’ve known since we met, it’s not like it was a secret,” I nudge him with a dry laugh, trying to lighten the burden pushing down his shoulders.
“Yeah, well, Sandra knew it too. We used to get into some blistering fights and I’d fly off the handle. I’d call her names that no man should call a woman, especially not a woman he loved. That night, we were drinking and she just kept pushing me. She kept pressing my buttons, like on purpose, making fun of me at the campfire in front of the whole graduating class. People were laughing and…I lost it.” He can’t meet my eyes.
“What did you do?” I sit up straight and look him square in the face, is he telling me he hurt her?
TinderElla: Page 25
