I’m cooking dinner for the wicked witch, who has had a party in the apartment every night for…I’ve lost count how many days. I’ve been tired from a lack of decent sleep for too long. It doesn’t help that every time I’ve messaged Idaline lately she’s been with the boyfriend she’s supposed to have broken up with already. The fact that she hasn’t really worries me. The moment she told me about how he reacted to harmless flirting, which she didn’t partake in, and how he reacted to hearing about me, I knew she needed to get away from him. He’s a Lila waiting to happen.
I open the oven, pull the rack out some, and reach for the pizza pan. She said she wanted dinner. She didn’t say I had to put some effort into it. The oven sits in the wall, about chest height, and I don’t pay attention when I reach for the pan. My arm is too low and it touches the searing hot rack, burning my arm. I unceremoniously drop the pizza pan onto the stovetop, close the oven, turn it off, and make my way to the bathroom.
As I’m filtering through the medicine cabinet, my eyes land on Lila’s birth control pills. As if I have no control over my body, my hand reaches for the package; my mind insists that I need to look at it. I pull the pills out. My stomach drops like a cinderblock and churns with the worst case of nausea I’ve ever had. Not a single pill has been taken.
Okay. Maybe this is a new prescription.
With a terrible feeling, I look at the date, dropping the pills to lurch for the toilet and throw up. That bitch. She hasn’t been taking her birth control for three months! I can’t… I don’t… There’s no telling how many times she was able to talk me into having sex without a condom or how many times I gave in just so I didn’t have to get kicked out and sleep in a hotel room for the night.
I flush the toilet and hear the front door close. …
She’s home. Spitting into the sink, I grab the pills and storm out of the bathroom.
“Pizza, FC? That’s the best you could do?”
“What the fuck is this, Lila?” I shove the pills in her face.
She doesn’t flinch. She barely reacts at all. “My pills. What’s your problem, FC?” she asks calmly.
“My problem is you’re a lying bitch! You told me you hadn’t missed one fucking day! These are three months old, Lila!”
She shrugs. “I’m sure the date is wrong on them.” She walks back into the kitchen to cut the pizza, as if that’s the most important thing right now.
“Pharmacies don’t fuck up the date. Not to mention, it starts on a Sunday and today is fucking Thursday, Lila! So, what lie do you want to go with? That you haven’t taken them in four days or that the pharmacy fucked up? Did you even take the Plan B pill or whatever the fuck it’s called?”
She turns to me. “Would it be so bad if we had a baby?”
I throw the pills at her, narrowly missing her head, which was my intention. “What the fuck is wrong with you? YES! It would be the worst goddamn thing in the world, Lila! What happened to how you didn’t want a baby? You don’t go around and stop taking your birth control. That’s how you trap a man and that’s not fucking right!”
“Stop yelling at me!” she shouts. “And don’t you ever throw something at me again or it’ll be the last time you do it.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Yes.”
Unbelievable.
I turn on my heel and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” she yells, running after me.
“To buy you a pregnancy test and to stop by a church to pray like hell it’s negative.” I can not be tied to this woman for life. I can’t. No way in hell. And one thing is for sure, I’ll never have sex with her again. Not after this. She can beat me until I’m within an inch of my life and I’ll tell her she can finish me off because I still won’t have sex with her. What kind of person does that? It was bad enough all the things she did before, but this is too much. To purposely try to bring a life into our fucked up world?
I nearly have to pull over and throw up again. Instead of two stops, I make three. To the store for a pregnancy test. To the liquor store for a bottle of tequila. And to a church parking lot to pray and start drinking. I’m going to need all the help I can get to get through the agony of waiting to find out if she’s pregnant or not.
When I return to the apartment to find Lila drinking a glass of wine, I snatch it out of her hands. “Don’t you dare fucking drink when there’s a chance you’re carrying my baby.”
Her eyes narrow. “It really pisses me off when you drink and I don’t.”
“Well, you better hope you aren’t fucking pregnant then.” I toss the bag at her and point to the bathroom. I sit on the couch while she leaves to take the test. My tequila is my one and only friend right now. My hands shake with fury and nerves. My stomach is ready to revolt with disgust that I might have a baby with this woman. The tequila tries its best to suppress everything.
After god only knows how long, Lila walks back into the room with a smile on her face.
“You’re not pregnant?” I ask, relief already lifting my spirits.
“You’re going to be a daddy!” she squeals happily.
Dread chokes me. The bottle falls from my hands. All I can do at first is shake my head. This can’t be happening. Lila takes a step toward me and I stand. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“Why aren’t you happy? We’re going to have a baby!”
“Look at us, Lila! You’re…you! We’re alcoholics. We don’t have a good relationship and now, you…” I can’t deal with this anymore. I turn and leave, ignoring her shouts, when she grabs my arm to make me stay, when she punches me in the back because I’m not listening, and when she slaps me as I’m getting on the elevator because I’m leaving despite what she wants.
I call Idaline.
“Hey, Ferguson Charles.”
“No. Can I come see you?” I need someone to ground me. I need to get away from here, but I can’t go home and Idaline is my best bet right now.
“Now?” she replies with surprise.
“Now. Please, Idaline.”
“Yes, of course. Come on.”
Considering I’ve already driven while consuming alcohol tonight, and I drank some more, I don’t want to get behind the wheel again. I use an app to request a ride, not caring how much it may cost to pay someone to drive me all the way to where Idaline lives in South Carolina. It’s only an hour away. Someone can fucking take me or I’ll walk.
Lila blows up my phone with calls and texts the moment I get into the car. I block her, so I can have some peace for a while. My body itches for a smoke or more alcohol, but it’s bad enough that I’m showing up to Idaline’s in this condition. The hour passes too slowly. Lila’s having a baby. I can never leave now. How could I leave my child with her? How could I have ever let myself sleep with her without a condom? This is my fucking fault.
That poor baby will come into this world with shit parents and it’s my fault. I don’t even want the baby. What am I going to say to him or her when they grow up and ask what my reaction was when I learned they were coming into this world? Sorry, kid, but I never wanted you. Not even when I found out you were coming. I even had the horrible thought that I should try to convince your mom to abort you because she’s a wicked witch and I’m a dumb horrible person who allowed this to happen.
My throat constricts, threatening to strangle me from the inside out. When I finally arrive outside of Idaline’s apartment, I pay the driver and walk up to her door. I knock before I can think about turning back.
The door swings open and for a moment, everything falls away. My beautiful Idaline is stunning in person. Her hair seems wavier, her light green eyes more vibrant. Her body is definitely more defined and three-dimensional.
“FC?” she whispers, breaking me out of my trance. “Do you want to come in?”
I nod and step inside. Idaline closes the door and stands next to me, looking a bit unsure of herself. “Can I give you a hug?”
Her arms wrap around me with no hesitation. This is the definition of heaven. Her body molds to mine, her head fitting perfectly just below my chin. I never should’ve waited so long for this.
“You’ve been drinking,” she states quietly.
“Don’t worry; I didn’t drive here.” I squeeze her tighter, hoping my skin will soak in the comfort that is Idaline. “I’m sorry this is how we’re meeting for the first time. This isn’t how I wanted it to happen. With me needing to get away and coming to the one place I knew I could go.”
“So, something is wrong.”
“Worse than that; things are fucked up.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
“No. Let me give you twelve years’ worth of hugs.”
We stand there, minute after minute, holding onto one another and not for a second is it awkward or uncomfortable. It’s perfection in my arms. My soul soothes a little, patching up the broken parts of me if only temporarily.
“Let’s sit down,” Idaline eventually says. She leads me to her couch.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
She angles toward me and I angle toward her. My gaze still travels over her apartment, piecing together what I’ve seen in our videocalls and what I’m seeing now. But then, my eyes land on a picture of Idaline holding a baby, who I believe is her niece. I gulp as tears well in my eyes. All the horrid thoughts and actions from earlier pour down over me. Leaning forward, hunched over my knees, I bury my face in my hands.
Idaline’s hand gently rests on my shoulder and a second later, she rubs my back. That doesn’t help my breakdown of epic proportions. I don’t know when I last cried and if I’ve ever cried in front of a woman, it was my mom or my nana. This is a new low for me. But I keep picturing a mini me and trying to reconcile that with my current feelings of disgust and dislike and of not wanting a damn thing to do with it because of this fucked up situation I’m in. This situation I didn’t get out of soon enough and now I don’t see a way to leave at all.
If Lila has this kid, I’m not going anywhere. The rest of my life will be full of suffering because the idea of leaving this poor innocent soul in her sole care is unbearable.
“FC, what’s wrong?” Idaline grabs my shoulder to turn me so my head is on her shoulder and her arms are around me once again. All I can do is shake my head. How can I tell her what I’ve done? “You have to tell me something.”
“Too fucked up to say.” She’s the last person I want to know about the situation I’ve found myself in.
Idaline doesn’t push me further. Soon, the tears go away and all I’m left with is dread I don’t think I’ll get rid of anytime soon.
“Sorry, Idaline,” I say as I wipe the remnants of the tears away. “I’m good now.” As good as I’ve ever be from this point on.
“I don’t believe you, but okay.”
She gets a smile from me in appreciation. “Do you mind if I spend the night? Or later, you can take me to a hotel?”
“You can stay here. I don’t mind.”
“Thanks.” I lean back, finally getting comfortable on the couch. “So, you want to tell me why you’re still with your boyfriend?”
Idaline seems stunned for a moment that we’re clearly moving on and ignoring what just happened with me, but she gathers herself quickly. “I tried, but I had a panic attack, which made him think we shouldn’t and that he should come spend time with me that night. Maybe he deserves a chance to show me he isn’t that person. Or a chance for me to talk to him about his behavior next time he does something like that.”
This answer doesn’t work for me at all. “Okay,” I say anyway. “But answer me this: do you think he would react rationally if he walked in right now and found me here? Or do you think he’d go off and possibly get violent with me, or even you? If you truly believe the first one, then give him your second chance, but if even a little part of you thinks the second one, text him right now and end it.”
Idaline frowns. “Texting is a little rude and mean, isn’t it?”
“Who cares? You’re the one doing it.”
“I don’t want to talk about this tonight, FC.”
I nod and let it go. Resting my elbow on the back of the couch, I tap her temple. “How are you doing up here?”
“My anxiety has been a constant bother and I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I’ve had some rough depression days, too.” She smiles. “My therapist will be tickled to hear that we’ve met.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Well, she’s always telling me to be cautious about it, but she’s still eager to hear how it goes when we meet.”
“She might be more disappointed then. This isn’t anything like how I imagined our first meeting.”
That causes Idaline to perk up. “How did you imagine it, then?”
How I imagined it is embarrassing. Tonight has been bad enough, so maybe I should tell her. It might lighten the mood in the room. With a deep breath, I say, “In my mind, we meet up at a restaurant, somewhere nice, and have the best time of our lives. We reach every expectation we’ve ever had for one another, we realize we’re not that different in person, and there’s no disappointment.” I take another deep breath and look away from her. “It always ends with a kiss goodnight. What about you?”
“When?”
“What?” I ask, turning to look at her again since I don’t understand her question.
“What age? Thirteen? Fourteen? Fifteen? Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? What age? I’ve imagined it so many times over the years with so many different scenarios, and some of them ended much sexier than a simple kiss goodnight.”
I stare at Idaline, my mind exploding. Sure, we’ve crossed the friendship line a few times, but not in a long while. With just a few words, Idaline has managed to take my soul, my limp, dying soul, and be its life support while I begin to suffer through the hell I’ve created for myself.