Exposed: A Novel (21 page)

Chapter 49
Ally

Mara relaxed in a chair across from me, clasped her hands, and tried to make eye contact with me. “He sent me the papers today.”

I nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“What else can I do?” She unlocked her fingers and pressed the wrinkles in her skirt. “He doesn’t want me anymore. It’s over.”

Help me fix her marriage. And mine. Show me the method, the answers.

“Have you ever thought of not signing them?” I said.

“Why would I do that? He’ll just divorce me anyway.”

“Well”—I shifted in my seat—“it will take much longer for the divorce to finalize, and you can keep your rings on, stay faithful, and refuse to be a divorcee no matter what the State says.”

The skin around her eyes pulled so tight I imagined it cracking and bleeding.

“If my husband doesn’t consider me his wife, then what’s the point?”

“The point is. . . .”

My eyes searched Mara’s, roaming for an answer, a method, a solution.

“The point is to never give up.”

“But why? Why would I do that if he gives up? There is no marriage to fight for anymore. He ruined it. He doesn’t want me. If he’s not fighting, I don’t see why I have to fight. Isn’t that just abuse? I don’t know what to do. I don’t even remember one good thing about our relationship.”

“Not one?”

“He’s never been the romantic type.”

“Why did you marry him?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Think of at least one reason.”

Mara paused. And the pause never played again. Her words hid behind the tears forming in her eyes. She knew. I could see it. Somewhere inside of her she still loved him. She just hated that she loved him. I knew the feeling.

I looked around the room. Shelves of books mocked me like the women on Jess’s computer. Years of study. Years of hoping to help marriages stay glued together by passion. Suddenly everything seemed less meaningful.

I couldn’t fix Mara’s marriage.

I couldn’t even fix my own.

“Are you okay?” she said.

“I don’t have any answers for you.” My own words clawed my heart like a vulture after an open wound.

Her eyes widened, tightening the skin around them even more.

“I’m sorry, Myra. I don’t think I can help you.”

Call it pregnancy hormones. Call it a breakdown. Call it insanity. Whatever you call it, I walked by Mara’s twisted face, out the door, passed Lauren’s chirpy smile, and right to my car.

Responsible, mature, and oh so gracefully, I put my keys in the ignition and twisted. Again. And again. Oh, yes, and again.

The car mocked me too.

After a few punches on the dashboard, I tried again.

Nothing.

Nothing except Lauren at my car window, her chirpy smile gone south.

Sinking into my seat, I chuckled.

Alanis Morissette sang words of irony in my head. I opened the car door and tilted my head toward Lauren.

“What’s going on?” she said.

I grabbed my purse from the passenger’s seat, twisted the keys from the useless ignition, and got out of my car. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I can’t do this anymore. Counseling is not for me. I really have no clue how to do this. Marriages,” my voice cracked. “I just don’t believe in them like I used to.”

She touched my shoulder. “Take some time off. I’ll let Mr. Almond know. You just let me know if you want to come back. I won’t talk to the other counselors about it.”

“Thanks.”

I walked home, a few miles down Route 924, and considered a method, a solid way to make love stand when the world’s arms keep pushing it down.

I forgot.

I completely forgot that Jessie looked at porn again until I walked in the front door and saw my least favorite person to see. Jessie’s Dad. Standing in the kitchen with Jessie.

“Look at her.” Mr. Graham’s eyes surveyed my body. “She’s the reason you’re having these problems. I told you to marry a beautiful, tall woman. You married the wrong woman, son. Isn’t that obvious now?”

Door still open, I flung my keys to the ground and gave Jessie my I-can’t-believe-you-could-be-that-stupid look.

Jessie, as dead as his father’s heart, stared at me, wordless, then looked at Mr. Graham and shook his head.

“What?” the ogre said. “I only said what’s true. You need a woman around here who can keep this place clean. She can’t even do that, so what makes you think she’d be able to please you in the bedroom with those average looks?” He swiped dust off an end table and analyzed his finger with disapproval. “If you would listen to me for once, you wouldn’t get into these situations you get yourself into.”

I walked away, hoping I’d hear Jessie’s footsteps behind me.

At the top of the stairs, I paused, waiting for him.

I waited another minute and went into the bathroom, ran hot water, and undressed.

You’d think he would’ve learned by now to COME AFTER ME!

By the time I got out of the shower and put on some clothes, it was dark.

Jessie sauntered into the bedroom, head down, shoulders hunched.

“My car didn’t start. It’s at work.” I climbed into bed. “Oh, and by the way, I quit.”

“Us or work?” Jessie undressed.

“Huh?”

“What did you quit?”

“Work. I quit work. I’m done.”

He didn’t look at me. Without a word, he slipped into bed, pulled the covers over his body, turned off the light, and closed his eyes.

Moonbeams casted bands of light on Jessie’s face. I could tell by his relaxed features that he needed reassurance from me. He wanted me to tell him everything was okay and that he could talk to me without a shoe flying at his face.

Not in the mood to be the lover, I turned over.

What’s so bad about wanting to be loved? I thought. He’s the one that hurt me. He’s the one that can’t keep his eyes off other women. He’s the one who invited the ogre over to insult me. And he knows I don’t feel comfortable being around that man, much less sharing our most intimate details with him.

I rolled out of bed and walked downstairs, again hoping for Jessie to follow. I knew he wouldn’t.

Our library of books, organized by genres and topics, caught my attention. I ran my fingers along the spines. Lord, show me something, some way to fix my marriage. Counseling books, inspirational books, marriage books—none of them stood out to me.

So I tilted my Bible from the rows of books and pulled it out, sat on the couch, and hid my body with our throw.

Palms on either side of the Bible, thumbs on the silver pages, I opened to a random page and scanned for a random verse.

This will be my answer, I thought.

Then render to Caesar’s the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.

Okay, not my answer.

I flipped through the New Testament again, knowing God would show me something this time, a secret to fixing my broken marriage.

Therefore God gave them up in the dishonorable lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.

Apparently God wasn’t interested in revealing secrets tonight.

Or maybe He was trying to show me something in those verses.

I reread the words, scanning them for hidden meanings, trying to see what they could mean for me.

Confused, I shut the Bible, opened it up, and turned to a random page again.

I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.

I closed the Bible and allowed the words to sow seeds of wisdom in my mind. Unsure of whether God gave me the verse or if I happened upon it by chance, I waited for the seeds to grow.

Eyes closed, head propped with pillows, my mind floated back and forth, like a kite caught in a breeze.

I knew I couldn’t do anything apart from God. But I guess I tried anyway.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

Marriage, in the beginning at least, scooped me off my feet and carried me through a rush of romance. We never thought much of God, and truthfully, I didn’t know how to do so as a couple. And most of the time, I didn’t want to.

I still didn’t.

Chapter 50
Taylor

Gianna told me to get health insurance through the medical assistance, so I did and made her come with me to my first appointment to check on the baby. She wouldn’t come at first and desperately tried to convince me to have an abortion. It’s the only way, she said. I heard those words before and didn’t want to hear them anymore, so I told her to either come with me or stay. Either way, I needed to go.

She agreed to go.

After she snorted a line.

We showed up ten minutes late to Lisa’s suite on Upper Chesapeake Drive. Honestly, I still hadn’t chosen against having an abortion. The visit was sort of my test to see if I could deal with an abortion after hearing the baby’s heartbeat. Part of me wished I wouldn’t hear a heartbeat.

I signed in at the front desk and walked over to Gianna. The eyes of other women in the room flickered. I could see them out of the corner of my eyes, looking up from their magazines. Faces down, eyes up, they watched me.

I should’ve worn something more mature, I thought. Like I owned anything mature.

One woman with a soft, pretty way about her glanced at my bare ring finger and back to her magazine.

When I sat down next to Gianna, I thought of the church Naomi took me to, all the people staring and making fun of me. I looked around the room at the different sized bellies, wondering if anyone could love someone enough to look passed the artificial surface and see the pain.

Gianna, unashamed of her life and looks, touched my arm and said, “Don’t worry about these nasty looks. These women are just jealous because their husbands have probably seen your porno flicks.” She laughed. “Told ya to get an abortion. You’d fit in better with that crowd anyway.”

My body melted into the floor.

I knew I should’ve stopped her from getting high first. Her attitude grew snarkier with each line she snorted.

Most of the women in the room pretended not to hear Gianna’s words. Except the one who eyed my absent wedding ring. Her soft beauty disappeared behind a crinkled forehead and evil eyes. She made no effort to hide her stares.

“Taylor Adams,” called a young nurse from a hallway door.

Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Clutching my purse to my stomach, I walked passed glistening eyes and turning heads. Gianna followed.

“Wait out here,” I whispered.

She exhaled, muttered something under her breath, then walked away.

Without the drugs and porn, she and I would have been good friends, but the surface of our lives, coated with so much junk, kept us from really knowing each other.

“Right this way,” the nurse said.

I didn’t want to know my weight, but the nurse told me anyway. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say I’ve never been so skinny in my life.

Lisa finally came in the room. I kept tugging my sleeves to make sure she wouldn’t see the scar on my wrist, but I think she saw them anyway.

Her red-rimmed glasses, Hawaiian print dress, and bold sneakers made me laugh.

She leaned me back on the table and squirted cold jelly on my lower abdomen. I flinched.

She laughed. “It’ll warm up in a second.”

She moved a plastic thing back and forth on my stomach. Static-like sounds came from the device. I held my breath, wondering what the heartbeat would sound like. Maybe the test was a false positive. I didn’t feel pregnant.

She looked at the ceiling and squinted her eyes. “Come on, kid. Where are ya?”

The device, held by Lisa’s thick fingers, slid across my abdomen, left to right, right to left, then she stopped.

Static disappeared.

I stared at Lisa. She looked at me and smiled.

Galloping horse feet filled the room.

“There you are,” Lisa said. “You hear that, Taylor? That’s your baby.”

Smiling, I listened. I wanted to listen forever.

Yeah, I didn’t know the baby’s Dad, and I didn’t want to either, but still, a heartbeat raced in my womb.

A real heartbeat. A person. A life.

Lisa took the plastic thing away and cleaned the jelly off my skin. I closed my eyes and concentrated. The heartbeat still bounced off the walls of my mind.

I ran my hand across my stomach. Who will raise you?

Lisa gave me some papers, relayed some mandatory information, then hugged me.

She held me so tight I thought she’d never let go.

“I admire you,” she said. “You’re doing something most people wouldn’t do. Stay strong.”

She backed away and held a folder to her chest.

My teeth hid under a weak smile. She never did tell me the due date. I’d have an ultrasound later to find out, since I had no idea when I conceived or when I had my last period.

Her glasses fell to the tip of her nose. “Remember, the best road is rarely the easiest.”

Nodding, I laughed. I wasn’t sure what she meant and I felt dumb asking. She smiled again, patted my knee, and walked out.

My mind centered on thoughts of the baby’s heartbeat and adoption. My baby in another woman’s arms. It’s what needed to happen, but I didn’t want to give my little baby up.

Not excited to walk by those sneering women again, I waited, imagining the heartbeat, picturing a little nose and eyes and lips. Imagining my baby, wrapped in blankets, in another woman’s arms. Another woman who would be Mommy.

A woman.

I’m still a girl.

I hopped off the examination table and opened the door.

The ring-conscious woman walked by. A scent of juniper and roses walked by with her. She looked me up and down and shook her head.

People never noticed me before. Now they shook their heads in disgust.

I walked by the front desk, figuring I’d make another appointment later if I wanted to, and nodded to Gianna. She stood and followed me to the door.

Every time my heels clinked on the hallway floor I heard the baby’s heartbeat. As much as I loved the feeling of bringing something good into the world for once, I didn’t think I could do it.

I mean, realistically, abortion seemed like a better option.

Click. Clack.
Gallop. Gallop.

My stomach flipped like the leaves on a tree right before a storm comes.

Andy would find out one day, and when he does abortion would be the first thing on his mind.

Gianna and I showed up at Andy’s house. She dropped me off, probably afraid to come in. I didn’t blame her. Andy never scarred her with words and hands like he did me, but I told her everything one day and she kept her distance since then.

Andy stood, hands on his hips, in the hallway to the kitchen as I opened the door.

I turned away, watching the doorknob as I shut the door, hoping to look back and see Andy’s eyes turned bright.

His phone rang, but he didn’t move. Words rose from his mouth like breath in frosty air. So soft, so chilling that I couldn’t understand what he said.

I stood, palms against my tiny skirt, looking at the ground.

Andy stepped forward, cracking the ice between us.

“I’m pregnant.” The words came out of my mouth like fire, melting every last inch of ice in the room.

“No, you aren’t.”

“I heard the heartbeat today.”

“Right. Is this supposed to scare me or something?”

“Call the midwife if you don’t believe me.” I walked toward the steps.

“Well, you’re getting an abortion, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Zayta found another director. And you’re staying here with me.” The more words he said, the more his voice raised. “Long story. I’m not getting into details, but you need to get an abortion. I don’t want your body getting all stretched out on me.”

“I don’t want an abortion, Andy.”

“What choice do you have? What would you do with a baby? You don’t even know how to take care of yourself.”

I sat on the bottom step. “I can’t have an abortion. I don’t know what I’m doing with the baby, but I can’t kill it.”

“You know, you could do porn while pregnant. Some guys like that. Might be a way for us to get into another avenue.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“You’ll do whatever I tell you to do, baby.” His thumb skimmed my cheek. “I’m all you’ve got.”

I stood and looked right into Andy’s bloodshot eyes. “You make me do something I don’t want to do again and I swear I’ll kill myself for good. Me and the baby. And I’ll make sure the world knows it’s your fault.”

Andy laughed. “Right, like that’s gonna happen.” He scanned my face. His gaze landed on my lips. “And don’t ever use that word again.”

“What word?”

“Shut up.” His palm slapped my mouth and stayed there. Elbow in the air, hand over my mouth, he laughed again. “You have this thing inside of you and your life is going to be over. No one is ever going to take you seriously. Not in this business, not in anything else. I’ll make sure of it.”

He pushed my face. My neck snapped backward. He stepped away.

I mean, sometimes, even with my walls up, I had an urge to cry. Like Mom’s sobs locked behind her door, the tears were still there, just hidden.

But now, now the urge never came when it should have. Forget hidden, they were lost.

And for some reason that hurt even more.