Bella
Present day…
I stare at the stick with two pink lines, glaring at it, willing one of the lines to disappear. Whelp! I guess I was ovulating during that ten percent chance timeframe. I don’t know whether to go play the lottery or never play it again…
I mean. Ten. Percent. Chance. That means I had a ninety percent chance of not ovulating on that day.
Some would see this as a miracle. A cancer patient gets told he only has a ten percent chance of beating it. He beats it. Miracle.
A woman plays a scratch off with only a ten percent chance of winning the jackpot. She wins. Miracle.
Someone is in an accident and is told there’s only a ten percent chance of surviving. The person survives. Goddamn Miracle.
I had a ten percent chance of getting pregnant. And I’m pregnant.
Miracle? Some would say so…
Me? Right now? Not so much…
“Bella! Are you coming to lunch or not?” Tristan bangs on the door.
“Umm… just give me a minute.” I grab the offensive stick, shove it back into the container and shove the container into the back of the cabinet under the sink. Since we each have our own bathroom, the chances of him looking under there are…
On second thought, I’ll just take that box with me. Because apparently the odds are in my favor, which means Tristan will look under the sink and find the box.
I open the door a tad, peeking out to make sure Tristan isn’t near it and then make a mad dash to my bedroom to hide the box. After throwing it in the very back of my closet, I get dressed.
“I’m not going to be able to make it to lunch,” I say to Tristan and Gina. Tristan gives me a quizzical look. Gina rolls her eyes.
“You sure?”
“Yep, I have something I have to take care of.”
“Ok, if you need anything call me.” Tristan leans forward and gives me a quick kiss on my cheek.
Before I lose the courage, I drive over to Marco’s condo; however, once I arrive my courage seems to disappear. So, I sit in the parking lot for a good twenty minutes before I build my courage back up enough to knock on his door.
At first nobody answers, so I knock once more. This time, I hear voices then the door swings open. A bleach blonde skinny chick wearing a tube top and boy shorts stands in front of me eying me up and down. Her eyes meet mine and they are blood shot.
“Can I help you?” she slurs.
“I need to speak to Marco.” She gives me a dirty look that I ignore. “Now.”
She swings the door open wider, her one hand flinging out to the side letting me know I can enter. I see Marco sitting on the couch in the living room, his nose about an inch from the coffee table. He inhales loudly then looks up.
“Janell, who the fuck is…” When he sees it’s me, his eyes widen a fraction.
“Belles,” he says lazily, drawing out each letter. He’s high as a kite. This is the point where I should walk away. But I’m pissed. This guy is getting high while I am freaking out about being knocked up because he didn’t put the goddamn condom on his dick before he came inside me.
“I’ve missed you…” I roll my eyes. The last time he said those words, his fuck-ass knocked me up.
“We need to talk.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Marco and I are actually busy right now, so…” the bleach blonde bitch says as she sits down next to Marco and snorts a line of what I think is coke.
“Marco,” I say, “We need to talk.”
“Damn Bella, I haven’t seen you in forever and you come in here all red faced and mad. Why don’t you chill out?”
“Chill out?” I repeat his words, nodding my head slowly while willing myself not to murder the father of my unborn child.
“Chill out,” I repeat, again. “I’m pregnant, Marco.”
His eyes bug out then he looks down at my stomach. “I’m only like a month along.”
“Damn, Bella. That shit sucks.” He grabs a baggie and dumps some more powder onto the table, leaning over and snorting it again.
“If you need money for an abortion, I can give it to you. Fuck, I can’t even imagine.” Marco shakes his head in disbelief, his words slurred so badly, it’s hard to even understand what he’s saying.
“I don’t need money. I’m not having an abortion.” I stare at this man in front of me, this man I have loved in some way or another for more than half my life and I don’t recognize him. It’s like he’s a skeleton of himself. The Marco I know would never offer me money for an abortion. He would comfort me and be there for me. He would tell me we would figure this out together.
“Hey,” he says, only he isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to blondie. “If you get knocked up, you are aborting that shit. There’s no way I’m bringing anything with my blood into this world.”
Blondie just rolls her eyes and takes another hit.
“Marco,” I say. His eyes meet mine and they don’t even look like his beautiful onyx eyes. They are hooded and the little bit that should be white is bright red. This isn’t my Marco. I don’t even know this man. I walk closer and kneel next to him so we are eye level. “Leave with me. Right now. We will get you help. I don’t know what’s happened but we will figure it out.”
“I don’t need help.”
“What about fighting?”
“That ship has sailed, Belles. And judging by your admission, it’s sailed for you as well. I guess life doesn’t always turn out as planned.”
Not being able to be in the same room as Marco any longer, I turn to walk out, turning back to glance at him one last time. I give him a sad watery smile before I walk out the door.
Once I am in my car, I dial a number and hit Bluetooth so I can back out.
“Bella? Is everything ok?”
“No, Caleb, it’s not.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Marco. He needs help. Help I’m not able to provide.”