Tragic Love (9 page)

The man leans into his bag and pulls what looks like a cigarette from a small metal tin. Grabbing a lighter from his pocket, the mystery man puts the fire to the end and inhales the tobacco. All I smell is a sweet, rich earthy scent before I realize that it’s not a cigarette at all, it’s a joint. I’ve been around plenty of people who’ve smoked weed before, especially in Memphis, but I’ve never had the nerve to try it.

This man is reading my thoughts without even looking at me, knowing I need to take the edge off my hurt. After he takes another puff he puts the joint in his left hand and then extends his arm, handing me the tightly rolled weed. I’m not sure why, but I pinch the joint between my thumb and index finger, watching the smoke snake through the air. I have to admit, the smell is intoxicating, tempting me to press my lips to the paper. Slowly, I squeeze my thumb and finger tighter on the joint and then move it slowly toward my lips when the vibration of my cell phone tickles me from my pocket. Still holding the joint in between my fingers, I manage to pull my phone from my shorts and read Darcie’s text message.

Where the fuck are you? What the hell happened to Drake?

Guilt replaces anything else I’m feeling knowing Drake’s current state of emotions. I lay my phone back on my lap and look at the burning emotional suppressor in my hand. I can’t do this. I need him in my life and I know he needs me. I have to fix this. As much as I don’t want to have this baby, I can’t risk losing the one person who matters most to me. “Sorry…I have to go.” I hand the joint back to the guy and quickly exit my swing.

The mystery man looks up from under his ball cap and meets my eyes. “I understand. I’m always here if you ever need to unwind.” His voice is low and quiet, full of mystery, just like our brief interaction.

“Thanks,” I say as I run from the park and out to the main road. I stop on the sidewalk and turn to look at him sitting on the swing. His back is to me and the smoke is dancing around him as he takes another hit of his joint. My pocket vibrates again interrupting my staring.

He’s trying to fight Reggie. Get your ass to the bar NOW!

My feet start to move quickly as I travel down through old buildings toward the bar. In a few short minutes, I make my way to the parking lot where I need to stop to catch my breath. The heat is sucking all the air from my lungs along with my guilt for what I’ve done. When I pull open the door I can hear Darcie screaming at Drake at the same time that Reggie is restraining his arms, pinning them behind his back. His eyes meet mine and they break all over again. I have to save him. I can’t bring him down with all the ugliness growing inside of me.

I slowly walk through the bar and keep my eyes solely on his. Darcie is turning her anger to me, but I shut it down because only Drake matters in this moment. No one else. I reach into my pocket and pull the small white pill from its depths. Placing it in the palm of my hand, I show him exactly what it is and his bloodshot, drunken eyes meet mine, slowly. Reggie releases his hold on Drake, allowing him to lower his arms to his sides.

“What’s that?”he asks with a slurred tongue as he shrugs his shoulders, loosening them from the tension inflicted by Reggie.

“I didn’t do it. I was waiting for something good to stop me, and then…there you were. You are more important to me than my own life and I can’t hurt you by doing this,” I whisper as I pick up the pill and place it in his sweaty hand.

His eyes focus slowly on the pill. He turns it over with his fingers in his hand, the confusion apparent as he studies the small white tablet. He can’t even look at me and I don’t blame him. I’ve ruined any trust he’s had in me and I deserve it. I’ve only been hiding from reality for a long time. Drake tips his hand to the side, allowing the pill to drop to the floor. As it hits the ground, Drake lifts his booted foot then slams it onto the tile. He twists his heel, grinding the pill into a fine white powder.

He slowly lifts his head and looks over to Reggie. “So now you know,” he says then he pushes past me, brushing his arm against mine as he walks out on all of us.

Chapter 7

Presley

It’s been a month since Drake found out I’m pregnant with his child and I’ve been in agony ever since. The balance of my existence has been turned completely upside down and the will to hang on is sinking further away from me. The fear Drake could always keep away with one touch is lurking around every corner, haunts my dreams and lives just outside the margin of my sanity.

I sleep in bed with Delilah every night, crying until I can’t keep myself awake then starting the sobs all over again the next day. I’m finishing out my first trimester, which means it’s been four agonizing weeks without Drake.

When I went to my first doctor’s appointment, I finally felt we were coming back together. It’s the first time he said more than two words to me and when he heard the heartbeat, Drake grabbed my hand as the look of overwhelming joy lit his eyes. He asked a lot of questions and got some informational material to know what exactly is going to happen during the next several months.

Drake has always been a planner and very responsible with every aspect in his life. There is no doubt he wants to know what will happen and when so he can be prepared for it. I thought finally he would release me from this impending doom hanging over me; however he reverted to his cold, angry self the minute we walked out the door.

Two more weeks have gone by.

Too few words have been spoken. Too few kisses have been shared. Too few threads of my will to hang on have stayed unharmed.

Other than my constant heartache, I am still feeling the same way as I was before and that’s horrible. I’m not referring to the morning sickness, fatigue and sore boobs. I’m referring to this baby being a big, fat mistake. The only thing this entire situation has proved is Delilah will always buckle under pressure, Drake still can’t stand to look at me and I’m in the worse kind of hell than I ever imagined.

It’s hard for me not to blame everything on the only thing that’s upset my balance. I hate this
thing
growing inside of me. It’s done nothing except cause my small bubble of comfort to explode and there is nothing I can do about it. It would be too late to have it taken care of, but God, some days I wish I would fall down the stairs. To have some sort of accident and make it all go away. I hate it that much. Then, where would that leave me? Exactly where I don’t want to be and that’s stranded alone in Sulfur Heights. Drake would have no reason to keep me around if I were to miscarry.

Reggie and Darcie found out I was pregnant when I met Drake at the bar. Both of them were shocked, and for the first time since I met her, Darcie was speechless. Neither of them judged me for the decisions I made that day and we have not spoken of it since. Reggie often asks how I’m doing and asks if he can get me anything. From the day I met him, I can see why the family looks up to him. He is strong, kind and would do anything to make the ones he loves happy. So many of Reggie’s characteristics live in Drake, and for that, I am grateful.

I know if anyone will be a good father it will be Drake, but that still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want this baby. I need to accept the fact that Drake and I are teetering on the edge of our relationship, my hands barely gripping the rock cliff; one wrong move will lead us farther apart than where we are now. The only place I will go is down.

Drake

After that horrible day, thinking Presley killed my baby, I lived in my car for the next few days. I could not face Presley and the deceit she left behind. I would go to work during the day, busting my ass for twelve hours and then drink myself into oblivion at night. I welcomed the numbing of whiskey and found solace in the warming fluid as it heated my belly.

After a week of my self-pity routine, Reggie told me to get my shit together. He said to me, like it or not, I was going to be a father and this was no way for a father to act. As always, Reggie is right and I find myself back where all the pain started, in my bedroom. The room feels cold and distant, just like my heart, and I am trying to figure out how I am supposed to get through the rest of this life harboring such anger toward the woman I love. Words can’t explain how happy I am she didn’t take that pill, but it’s still a struggle to look her in the eye. I choose not to speak to her because I can’t think of anything nice to say.

I can tell Presley has been afraid to talk to me and I don’t blame her. I am a ticking time bomb whenever I think of what she did to me. My emotions are still completely raw; they bleed every time I see her face, smell her scent in the air. I feel the hurt grow inside my heart.

When I accompanied her to the first doctor visit, it was the first time we shared a conversation with more than a handful of words. Then my hard exterior melted away when the sound of my baby’s heartbeat filled the room. I looked over at the woman I love more than the air I breathe, and for that small moment, I forgot the pain she put inside me. I only saw the mother of my child and the woman of my dreams.

According to the doctor, Presley will be due in late March, which gives us less than seven months to get our shit together and raise this baby the right way. I look at Presley every day, and even at night I will open the door to Delilah’s room and watch her sleep. She is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen and I know it’s time for me to get over my anger, yet I can’t seem to let it go. I’ve never been deceived that way before and I don’t know if I can completely trust her again.

Reggie and I have many late night conversations when he gets home from the bar. It’s been weeks since I slept an entire night without wondering what will happen between Presley and me. He’s always been the person I confide in and lately that’s all I’ve been doing. I am asking him for advice he doesn’t know how to give because this is something he’s never had to deal with. The talk we had last night comes flooding back into my reality and it’s all I can do to shake it from my mind.

We were sitting in the living room, drinking a couple of beers and staring at the sports recap on the TV when he said something so revealing it took me by surprise. Not because of what he said, but the emotion he put behind it. Reggie, for the first time, let the walls behind his tough exterior down and showed me just how vulnerable a man he really is; especially when it comes to the woman we love.

“Look, Drake, I know what you’re going through with Presley is killing you. Believe me, I went through that myself,” he says in a stoic tone as his head motions to a picture of Darcie on the shelf. Reggie stands from his Lazyboy, drinking down the last of his beer, and comes to sit beside me on the couch. He lifts his hand and places it on my shoulder before continuing, “But if I learned one thing from that entire Grady situation, it is that I don’t always know what is best for others, especially when it comes to Darcie. Every time I see the jagged scar on her back, the one he put there, it makes me sick to my stomach because I could have stopped it before it even started. If I wasn’t being such a hard-headed asshole, Grady would have never tried to rape her and she would have one less scar on her body.”

Reggie removes his hand and runs his fingers through his long hair, something he always does when he’s frustrated or struggling with the right words. I lean forward and put my elbows on my knees, looking down at the ratty brown carpet. When he starts to speak again, my eyes meet his and they are filled with remorse for Darcie. “Your feelings of anger are justified, but how long are you going to let it control your life? She’s having a baby,
your
baby. If you don’t get your shit together soon, it may be too late and you will never get the chance to make it right. Trust me. It sucks living with a constant reminder of
my
bad decision, but that is my burden to carry. I don’t want you to have that burden, Drake. Give her one less scar.”

Now, I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling. Even though it’s been a month since I’ve held her in our bed, it still smells of her. She is everywhere I look in this room and the many memories are a reminder of how much I really love her. Can I get over my anger? I know I need to, however can it be done?

The only other time I felt betrayed was when my mother sold me for heroin when I was three, and even though I was only a child, I still remember flashes of our life together and of that day. I don’t regret what happened because I love the family I have now, but it still doesn’t heal the abandonment she scarred me with. The only person who knows how truly affected I am from my mother’s actions is Presley. She promised me from that day on she would never deceive me the way my mother did, and now look at us. We’re as broken as everyone else.

Presley

Summer is coming to an end and I feel my life is heading there, too. I am now seventeen weeks pregnant and into my second trimester. My stomach is starting to bulge right below my belly button and looks grotesque. Not normal. I keep it covered by wearing big t-shirts and yoga pants, but I still know it’s there.

Drake and I are starting to talk more, but it’s never about our problems, it’s always about the baby and how I’m feeling. I still sleep in Delilah’s room and hate every second of it because I’m not near him. He missed the last doctor’s appointment, and I can tell he is beating himself up about it. Apparently, it was impossible to get out of work and I can see why, he’s never home before dark and spends most of the day working. I feel so alone…broken without him. I told Drake it was no big deal if he missed the appointment, but he sent Delilah in his place. I was just going to skip it altogether because I could care less about how the baby is doing, of course Drake wouldn’t allow that.

This has been the worst seventeen weeks of my life. Just exactly as I predicted, this thing inside of me is ruining my life—taking away my life line—and soon the nightmares of Robert’s abuse will win. The terror is constant. It’s following me around the room, while I’m outside, and especially when I close my eyes. I’m starting to think giving up on my life will be better for everyone. I won’t have to see the hurt inside Drake’s eyes and feel the disappointment in everyone else’s.