by Mj Fields
I shake my head in answer as I look over her beautiful face.
“Please give me something. I’m like Jekyll and Hyde right now.”
“You astound me.”
She laughs. “Well, that’s not helping. You were pissed at me in the kitchen, and now I astound you? I was a crying little child a minute ago, and now I’m laughing?” She sighs heavily. “There is seriously something wrong with us.”
I give her a hug. “You don’t have to be so strong for me.”
“This is not strong; this is wrecked,” she huffs. “I don’t even know who I am right now; don’t you see that?”
I kiss the top of her head and whisper, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be who I desperately wished I could be for you. We could’ve been amazing together. So yes, Tessa, you astound me.”
“Who can you be without me? I need to know that the guy I fell in love with was real. Please, don’t prove me wrong.” She reaches up, takes my face in one hand, eyes glued to my lips as she rubs her thumb over them, and then she leans in and gives me a whisper of a kiss.
Then she walks out, and fuck if that doesn’t hurt.
Sadi lies on the table, and I am trying my best to be that guy, just like Tessa would expect. The radiologist can’t see much in the sonogram, so she decides to do an ultrasound. My eyes widen when I see her pull out the stirrups, and all I can think of is Tessa’s Vagatron experience. She then takes out a device that’s shaped like a skinny dick and puts a condom over it—oh, the irony—before inserting it inside Sadi, who grips my hand tightly.
“You okay?” I whisper.
“No,” Sadi hisses.
“Okay, here is your uterus, and the little one is right here.” The radiologist points at the screen.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” I ask anxiously.
“Too early to tell.” She smiles at me as Sadi’s grip tightens.
I look down, and she turns her head away.
The radiologist clicks a few buttons, taking measurements.
“It looks like you are about at the end of your first trimester, so we won’t be able to tell for at least another two months. Excited Daddy, huh?”
Sadi’s grip loosens.
“Actually, I’m a bit confused. Sadi is five months pregnant, not three. Can you check again?” I ask, confused, and obviously Sadi is, as well.
“Miss Black is eight, maybe nine weeks, so she’s just through the first trimester.”
“No, that’s not right. Is it possible that something is wrong with our baby?” I ask when Sadi drops my hand.
“Actually, everything looks great. The heartbeat is strong, all the measurements are good, everything is perfect.” The radiologist tries to ease the worry, but it doesn’t. Something’s fucking wrong, and she doesn’t get that.
I shake my head. “I think maybe you should get the doctor. Sadi’s five months. She came here to this office about two months ago, and you guys told her she was pregnant then. Obviously something’s not right, and I would like to make sure our child is healthy.”
Smile gone, face tight, she nods as she pulls the plastic dick out of Sadi. “Okay, I’ll get the doctor.”
“Are you all right, Sadi?”
She briefly looks at me before turning her back to me and curling into herself.
“Everything’s going to be fine, okay?” I try to reassure her, but fuck, I’m not sure that’s true.
I sit, and we wait.
The doctor walks in. “I’m Dr. Shaw, and I’ve just been informed you’re concerned about the size of your child?”
I stand up. “Yes, Sadi was here two months ago, and she was told she was three months pregnant. Now we’re being told eight to nine weeks. I’m confused as to why it’s not a concern and that we shouldn’t be doing further testing.”
Dr. Shaw looks past me. “Sadi, I’m your doctor, so if you would like to discuss this with me in private, please say so.”
Sadi doesn’t say shit.
Pissed, I ask, “Sadi, do you need a minute, or are we in this together?”
“Go ahead,” she whispers.
“Sadi was in here a few months ago and had a false positive home test. We did bloodwork and found she wasn’t pregnant,” the doctor explains.
I immediately feel like I’m going to get sick. Fuck, I even feel dizzy, so I sit.
The doctor keeps yapping, like everything is just fucking fine as he looks over the photos.
Numb and enraged shouldn’t be two feelings someone could feel at the same time, but that’s exactly how I feel.
“You can get dressed, Miss Black. The nurse will be in to schedule your next appointment. We can—”
“Do you know what you have done? Do you?” I cut Dr. Shaw off.
“Mr. Links,” the doctor says, his tone an obvious warning.
I stand up and lean closer to Sadi. “You aborted a baby behind my back eight months ago. I brought you here and paid to get you put on the pill and still dated your crazy ass. Then I finally find someone who I love and you fake a pregnancy?” I bark out an angry laugh and look at Dr. Shaw. “Doc, she’s crazy. You have any pills for that? Oh, wait, she’d have to take the fuck—”
He cuts me off, “Son, did you sleep with her —”
“Yes, I thought she was three months pregnant, and I fucked her.”
“Well, then, you had sex with her, and she has your baby growing in her body. I would suggest you take responsibility and speak to her—”
“Holy fuck! Sadi, what is fucking wrong with you?” I feel like I’m going to explode when it really hits home.
Sadi looks at me, tears falling down her face, and I have zero desire to make her stop. She should cry.
“I love you,” is all she says.
I step back as if she just slapped me. Reality is that she’s done far worse.
“What-the-fuck-ever. Get dressed.”
I look at Shaw. “Doc, can she be put on meds to fix her fucking head before my helpless child is born?”
“That’s enough, Mr. Links,” asshole scolds me.
Before I lose it, I look at her. “After I pay your fucking bill, I’ll be in the car. Hurry up.”
Not one word is said as I drop her off at her house then head to mine.
I head upstairs, grab Mom’s pipe and a lighter, then flop on my bed.
What the hell am I going to do now? This is crazy. What have I done? How am I going to tell Tessa, my family, Tommy? What am I going to do about raising a kid by myself? Because there is no way that crazy bitch is going to use my child as a pawn, like I’ve been used my entire life.
I hit the pipe a few times, and not for clarity, but in hopes I can numb this fucking pain and rage.
As soon as I step out of the vehicle, Tessa walks outside, smiling, “So, is it a boy?”
The buzz clearly hasn’t lessened the rage, but there was no way I could be alone for another second in that house with my thoughts. They were that fucking dark.
I flip the sonogram picture at her and begin walking out back, thinking maybe this path, the one Tessa takes, has some magical calming effect, because I need it right now.
She catches up to me. “Hey, what’s going on?”
I shake my head and laugh as I feel my fucking knees weaken. Then I squat down, and Tessa moves in front of me. I force myself to put myself out of my misery and just get this over. So, I look up.
She cocks her head to the side. “Are you stoned?”
“Maybe buzzed.” I force out a laugh.
Concern etches her sweet features, and then she nods. “You can’t drive like that.”
I laugh in anger at the fact that she still looks at me like I’m something when I sure as fuck don’t deserve it.
She narrows her eyes.
TT, I think. Yes, Tessa, get pissed.
She still doesn’t say a damn thing, and that … well, that fucking silence cuts deep.
I run my hand through my hair and look up. “Hey, Tessa, wanna hear a funny story?”
Her brows knit further and cautious concern laces her response when she says, “Sure.”
“Check out the picture, baby. Look at all the cool numbers at the top.”
Tessa looks at the sonogram photos and starts to smile. “Hey, my little stoner buddy, I think you got the wrong picture.”
She thinks it’s a joke, like I fucked up in a way that I didn’t, which would be my preference. However, it’s not.
“Baby, you’re smarter than that. Look at the name on it.”
I have to look away from her as the chest tightening realization set in.
“Okay, I’m confused.”
“Don’t be, Tessa. Ask the questions. I’ve never lied to you.”
I hear her swallow hard then quietly ask, “Is she eight and a half weeks?”
“Yep. I fucked her when I was living here. She got pregnant then.” I hug my knees, attempting to stop myself from physically shaking in anger. “As a matter of fact, she had a false positive pregnancy test and had blood drawn. They told her she wasn’t pregnant. Sadi fucked with the paperwork and flat-ass lied to me. Oh, but remember, as the good doctor pointed out to me, I fucked her, so it’s my responsibility.”
She doesn’t respond, and I need her to. I need her to get pissed, so I push.
“I’m sure my hot-bodied, little blonde here would agree, wouldn’t you, baby?”
She just looks at me blankly.
“And that’s what I thought.” I stand then walk away.
A few seconds later, I hear her start toward me.
“Lucas, wait. Is he healthy?”
“Sure is.” Again, I laugh in anger.
“Okay … That’s good, right?”
I spin around and snap, “Are you fucking insane, too? That’s good? Fuck, Tessa! She’s put me—” I stop and motion between her and I. “She’s put us through hell! I would prefer she go play in the fucking road … a four lane highway. Instead, I’m worrying about how that nutjob is going to take care of my child!”
“Well, no, I’m not insane. But if you don’t think she could take care of him, then maybe you could get custody.”
It’s not that I haven’t thought about it, but to hear her say it, it pisses me off.
“Fuck you, Tessa. I’m eighteen years old. I was raised by a lush whose head I pulled out of the toilet almost every night from the time I was three on. I know nothing about taking care of a kid.”
She crosses her arms and states firmly, “Lucas, yes, you do. You took care of yourself, and you can do this.”
I shake my head. “I can’t be here right now.”
“Would you come here just for a minute?” I watch as she looks me over, and I know where this is going to lead, and I shouldn’t let it, but fuck if I don’t need it.
I walk toward her, and she reaches up, taking my face, and then … she kisses me.
I grab her hips and pull her closer, skating one hand up her side then across, taking her tit in my hand and squeezing it. She moves her hand to my waist then under my shirt. I push my tongue into her mouth, and she pushes her hand in my pocket, my dick immediately going hard, and I push against her touch.
“Oh, fuck, baby.” I reach down and put my hand over hers to guide it a little to the left.
“Lucas, don’t,” Tessa whispers.
“Come on, baby. I need you right now. You love me, right?”
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she leans in and whispers in my ear, “I do, and don’t be mad at me, please.”
It’s when she turns around, I see that she wasn’t fishing for my dick in my pocket. She was taking my keys.
“Get back here.”
She starts walking faster, and I run to catch up, grabbing her elbow and turning her to face me.
“Lucas, I love you. Don’t push me away.” She fucking hugs me. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
I don’t hug her back. I get pissed at the way she’s talking to me, like I’m pathetic.
“Give. Me. My keys. Tessa.”
She steps back and looks up. “No.”
“I have shit to do,” I hiss.
She cocks her head to the side, and I swear to God she’s forcing herself not to roll her eyes when she asks, “What do you need to do?”
I lunge for my keys, and she turns and runs. She runs fast as fuck, too.
“If you can catch me, you can have them.” She lifts her shirt and puts my keys in her bra.
When she turns and runs, I haul ass after her, pissed.
She runs for the woods as fast as she can, and I am right behind her. At the edge of the woods, I think she’s going to stop, but she doesn’t. She loops around, leaving the hard-packed, snowy driveway and into the snow that’s past her damn knees, and she’s in her slipper boots.
“You’re fucking crazy,” I yell after her.
She turns and laughs.
I flip her off, and she laughs harder then runs.
“Fuck that,” I mumble as I head up the driveway, running at first then eventually walking.
I walk because, like a play-off game sack, reality hits, and I am fighting to stay on my feet and not fall to my knees. That reality? I know damn well, as long as she’s running, holding on to something that’s mine, I’m always going to chase after her. As long as she knows I will chase her, she’s always going to run.
That’s the way our love is. It’s sad, it’s sick, and it’s toxic. It’s all those things because of me.
Sitting on a hay bale, I am pissed, hurt, angry … so damn angry at myself for putting myself in this situation. I knew from the moment my eyes met his that I would try like hell to build a wall, only now I’m realizing I should have listened to my gut. I should have known that wall that I was building was to protect me from the hurt that would come, and my God, it has come, and it keeps on hitting like the bad dream that comes back night after night.
I was always taught that that gut feeling is God’s voice directing us, but He also gave us free-freaking-will. What makes this even more confusing is the fact that I believe that the heart wants what the heart wants, and that feeling clearly trumps the other. And then let’s add in the treat others the way you want to be treated, and do unto others, and I sit here feeling fucked six ways to Sunday because I believe that, too. Now, put all that in a blender, and I have to swallow down that I ignored the gut feeling—God’s voice—and listened to my heart. But let me be honest; it wasn’t my heart completely. It was the attention, the physical feelings, and yes, that all catapulted into the sky so far it will never, not ever, come back down. So yes, I love Lucas. I know I always will, too. But that love needs to change. It has to change a lot because I own my sins and believe all sins are judged the same. I have to forgive his and my own so we can both be happy and, God willing, remain friends. I desperately need that. Otherwise, this love I feel to my soul was lost, and love should never be lost.
I laugh at myself as I sit, freezing, trying to figure out something at eighteen that even my own parents can’t, and Lucas walks in, all breathless, broody, and looking at me like I’m insane.
Newsflash: I think I am.
I shake my head. “I’ve never really thought about this before, but quarterbacks don’t run very much, do they?”
“Enough to catch your buddy Ben’s ass before he made a touchdown,” he snaps.
“But not as fast as me.” I grin, big, stupid, and one hundred percent forced.
“Fine, you win.” He points to my chest. “But I’ll go after them if you don’t hand them over.”
“No, you won’t.”
He steps toward me, and I hop up.
“Tessa, you scared of me?”
Yes, yes I am, I think, but I say, “No,” as I lift my chin, walking past him and into the house.
I immediately run upstairs where I strip off my wet clothes and grab a sweatshirt. As I’m about to put it on, I realize it’s yet another one of his that I have stollen. I toss it across the hall into the boys’ room then grab my field hockey hoodi
e.
I have made both tea and hot chocolate and popped popcorn, knowing when he comes in, if the buzz hasn’t made him sleepy, like last time, the warmth of the house after freezing sure will.
When he walks in, I can see he’s still pissed.
I force another smile. “You look better. Your eyes don’t look like someone poked you in them. Buzz gone?”
He nods.
“Tea or coco?” I ask, and he points to the coco. “Do you have the munchies?”
He tries to smile as he nods again.
“Good.” I hand him the coco. “Go change. Pick out a movie, and I’ll be in.”
While I wait, I look in the freezer to see what I can make for dinner. It was supposed to be just us, because Dad is hauling hay, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. No matter how much I try to force myself to be strong, it’s not easy when we’re alone.
You will be in time, I promise myself.
When I hear the TV turn on, I grab my tea and the popcorn, inhale a deep breath, and then exhale as I walk in.
He’s wearing the sweatshirt that I just tossed in my anger, the one I borrowed a couple weeks ago because it smelled like him, and sitting with his arms crossed over his chest.
I set my tea down then hand him the popcorn as I sit beside him.
He eats the popcorn, absentmindedly staring at the TV, watching the news.
“Weather is getting bad, huh?” I ask.
He glances over at me and looks like, if he had the energy, he would tell me off.
I shrug. “Coco, popcorn, the weather. It’s okay to try to forget.”
He seems to get that—that I don’t want to talk about it.
