Pretty Hurts (10 page)

“And you’re not. I’m asking for some time. This is so much to take in, and I know it has to be worse for you, but …” She trails off with a shrug. “All I’m asking for is time before I give you a final answer.”

“Why prolong it?” I ask, unable to take another blow. I spin on my heel and stalk toward the door, feeling numb. In a few hours, my life has been split wide open. Grabbing my keys off the hook, I head to my car, desperate to escape the chain of events set off.

“Edgar.”

I ignore Efia as I step out into the rain. The water feels good on my skin. I ignore the wetness as my clothes are soaked.

“No.” She grabs my shirt and tugs.

I spin to face her. “I can’t be here right now. I can’t watch another woman walk out on me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I shake my head, unable to hear her words. “Just let me go.”

“I don’t want you to leave like this, please.” Her voice breaks and I know she’s crying. Her tears mingle with the rain, ripping my heart out of my chest.

“I can’t.”

I pull away from her, climb into my car, and pull out of the driveway. Her lone figure haunts me as I look back in the rearview mirror. I travel along the familiar streets, on autopilot as I attempt to make sense of everything that’s happened. My car is forced to the right. I glance up to see the rushing water surrounding me.
Flash flood.
For a split second, fear paralyzes me. Then I grab the wheel and attempt to steer while the car is tossed about like a plaything. My teeth rattle in my head as the car rocks violently. My head slams against the driver window.

A sickening crack fills my ears; I pray it was the glass and not my skull. My eyelids droop and I sway, unsure if the car has stopped moving or not. Blinking, I struggle to focus. I’m stopped. The water is hood deep.
I need to escape.
My limbs are heavy and clumsy as I claw at my seatbelt. It gives with a click, and I roll down the window, praying the power still works. It comes down with sluggish chugs.

I use the last of my strength to lift my body out of the water and struggle to stay afloat as the water washes me away and I try to find a place for purchase. The landscape is sweeping by too fast to register much, but I see the water drops drastically in a few feet. I struggle to steer my body toward the area. Fate or God must be on my side, because I find myself able to stand up in the knee-deep water. I struggle against the water and flop onto the patch of visible grass. Breathing hard, I struggle to regain my breath and bearings. My head is throbbing, and I’m exhausted, but I know I must find safety. I push to my feet and stumble my way down toward the wet streets in search of help.

Chapter Seven

Efia

I haven’t slept a wink since Edgar left. He refuses to answer his phone. I’m worried.
Where the hell is he?
The weather is horrendous. Flash floods are popping up all over the place, and it’s not like him to fall out of communication for so long. Not even if he’s upset. My phone rings.

“Edgar?”

“No. This is his mother.”

“Oh my God. Is he okay?”

“He was caught in a flash flood last night. We just got a call from the hospital. He’s got a nasty concussion, a sprained wrist, and a number of lacerations, but he’s going to be okay.”

“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” I whisper, clutching my throat. “What hospital is he at?”

“Houston Methodist. We’re on the fourth floor.”

“I’ll be leaving in the next ten minutes.”

“Mija, please drive carefully. One accident is enough tonight, no?”

“I will,” I whisper, awed by the show of acceptance she just issued with one word. I close my eyes as I hang up.
Maybe this will somehow be okay
.

Balling my fist, I shove it into my mouth as I sob, releasing the tension built up over the sleepless night. I almost lost him tonight. I can’t have that. Suddenly being a step-mother seems like such a small requirement to keep him in my life. I love him with everything I have.

This is the ‘forever until the end of time’ love I’ve waited my entire life for. Nothing is going to get in the way of that. Guilt assuages me. I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, but all he could hear was the uncertainty. I should’ve realized with his past I’d trigger something. I have to tell him all of this. I rush from the bed, pull on a pair of tights, a bra, and an over-sized Gilborn’s sweatshirt that slips off my shoulder. I stop to brush my teeth and swish with mouthwash before I rush to the front door, slipping on my boots and a raincoat. Grabbing my keys and umbrella, I force myself to slow down. I have to drive with care and focus on the wet streets.

I grip the steering wheel tight as I struggle to keep the vehicle between the lines. The wind and the water work together to make driving an obstacle course. Reaching the hospital parking lot, I slam the car into park and jump out. I dodge the puddles as I jog across the black top to the automatic opening door. After heading straight for the elevators, I take the elevator to the fourth floor. I need to see him with my own eyes before I can relax.

The door dings and I spot his family lined up against the wall.

“Efia,” Maria calls. I rush to her and accept her hug.

“Is he okay?” I ask.

“He is. Didn’t Mom tell you?”

“Yes, but I need to see him.”

“I understand,” she says. “Mom’s been waiting for you to arrive, go poke your head in and I’m sure she’ll switch places with you.”

“All right.”

I go to the doorway, and my heart aches at the sight of him in a hospital gown. The white blanket is pulled up to his chin and monitors beep all around him. His face is swollen and scratched. His eyes are closed, but he doesn’t seem to be resting well. My stomach lurches.

As I tap the door, his mother looks up and waves me in.

“We’ve been monitoring him, checking on his concussion. He’s only just drifted off.” She pats his hand and stands.

“I don’t want to run you out,” I protest.

“No, my boy will be fine, and my old bones needs rest. The waiting here is for the young.I’ll call to check in on him later?”

“I’ll be here,” I say with a nod.

“I’ll take la familia home with me. We know he’s in good hands.” She pats my shoulders and gives me a half hug; it’s everything. Normally I’d be over the moon, but right now all I can do is focus on the man in the bed beside me. I take his hands in mine and bring his hand to me, kissing the scrapped knuckles.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight, Edgar. Do you know that?” I brush my cheek over his hand, hating the way it feels cool.

“I didn’t say no. I said I needed to think. When I got the call from your mother, and I thought I lost you, nothing else mattered. You and me, we’re meant to be together. I refuse to let anything life has to throw at us come between us. I love you, Edgar Alejandro Gilborn. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You mean that?” he asks. His voice is rough and hard to hear.

Leaning forward, I run my hand over his head, too afraid to touch his face because I might cause him pain. “Of course I do. You can’t run out like that on me again. We work through things.”

“All I could see was you leaving me. I know it’s not fair to you, but scars have a way of re-opening.”

“And I understand it, but we have to work through it.” I stand and bend down to kiss his lips.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

I snicker. “Well, you’re still in good spirits at least.”

“Nothing better to do but lay here, might as well keep it upbeat.”

“And the baby?”

He sighs. “I overreacted. All I can do is wait for the DNA test to be issued and go from there. I don’t want to be without you, Efia.” He clutches my hand.

“You won’t be. Nothing like coming close to losing you to help put things into perspective.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he rasps.

“I’m sorry this happened at all,” I counter.

“It was a freak accident. The water came out of nowhere.” His eyes gloss over, and I know he’s back there with those rushing waters. I rest my head on the bed beside him and offer silent comfort.

***

Today’s the day we’ve been waiting for. The results are in for the paternity test. When the lawyer sent a denial of acknowledgment of parentage and sent a motion for a genetic marker a date was booked with a lab. Three swabs later our entire future is balanced on results. Thirty long days afterward, I’m sitting beside him in the judge’s chamber. He holds my hand, and I study the woman who came before me. She’s a thick Barbie with her voluptuous frame, bleached-blonde hair, long lashes, red lips, and heart-shaped face. She’s dressed impeccably in a black taffeta dress that nips into her tiny waist and billows out.

The baby is a red-cheeked chubby thing with bright blue eyes like her mother. I search for signs of Edgar in her chubby face, but it’s really too early to tell. The wisps of blonde hair sticking up on her head scream her mother as well. Clothed in a tiny sailor outfit, Betty is adorable and happy as a lark. If she gives him something I never will, it’ll kill me. I suddenly question my decision to wear the black pants suit.
Do I look too masculine in my pants suit with my bald head?
I struggle to stay still. Squirming would be a show of weakness.

“As I understand it you were not aware of the child until recently?” Judge Minor inquires. Her thin lips are pressed into a straight line and her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled back into a thin bun. She has a harsh appearance with her angular face and slender build, but there’s kindness lurking in the depths of her hazel-colored eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. I received a form for the acknowledgement of parentage in the mail a little over a month ago, and it was the first I’d heard of Betty.”

“But you were in a committed relationship with Ms. Bird for five years?”

“Yes, ma’am. Until she moved out abruptly with little to no explanation almost two years ago now.”

“Is this correct, Ms. Bird?” the judge asks.

“Yes, but I knew he didn’t want children,” she replies lamely.

The judge gives her a withering look but remains neutral.

“You’ve all been to the DNA center. If Betty is your child, Mr. Gilborn, do you intend to be involved in her life?”

“Yes, ma’am. I know how important it is for a child to have both parents involved in their lives.”

“I’m inclined to believe you, young man,” she says with a gentle smile. “Now let’s get down to the reason we’re here. The paternity. Ms. Bird, is there a chance Mr. Gilborn is not the father of Betty?”

She glances away. “No, I don’t believe so.”

Liar
.

“Well, let’s find out.”

The judge opens the sealed envelope, and I hold my breath.

“In the case of Betty Lucille Bird, Mr. Gilborn, you are not the father.”

The wail in the office sets off Betty and the two blondes dissolve into sobbing messes.

“Ms. Bird, I think you owe this young man an apology and an explanation.”

“I-I just wanted him to be her father so badly. The dates were so close.”

“You were cheating on me?” Edgar asks coldly.

“No. It was a bad choice. A one off with an ex. I was a little freaked about the engagement and one thing lead to another.”

“You should’ve told me,” Edgar says.

She sniffs. “I know.” She brings Betty to her shoulder and rocks back and forth, patting her back. “I just … I couldn’t face it. Then she started to get older, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to her if she didn’t have a father.”

“How did this happen? We were always so careful.”

“I was sick, and I had that antibiotic.”

Edgar grunts. I’m guessing the dates between them don’t line up. All her dirty laundry is aired, and I’m no longer worried if I measure up to her. I reach out and take his hands. His gaze latches onto mine.

“I don’t wish you ill. But I’d appreciate if you stay away from my family and I. Our time together is in the past, and that’s where it needs to stay.”

“You’ve heard the man, Ms. Bird,” the judge says. “Bailiff, can you walk Ms. Bird out, please?”

She stands and I watch as the chapter of his life before me closes with a resounding echo of a thick wooden door.

“Thank you, Judge,” Edgar says as we stand and he leans across the desk to shake her hand.

“I hope I don’t see you again, young man.”

“Oh, you won’t,” he replies with a laugh.

“How do you feel?” I ask quietly as we leave the courthouse.

“Relieved. Does that make me an awful person?”

“If you are then I am too because I’m right there with you.”

Slipping his arm around my waist, he pulls me to his side. “Thank you for sticking with me through this.”

“Always.”

He bends down and kisses my forehead. “We should go celebrate.”

“I think we’ve earned a second cheat day this week,” I say.

He laughs. “Okay. So we’ll go out to eat based on the dessert menu tonight.”

“I love the way you humor me.”

“Why don’t we skip the dinner and head to Oui Desserts?” he asks.

My mouth waters at the thought of the bakery. “Yes. I can already taste their apple tarts, eclairs … oh my God, if we luck out they’ll still have some beignets.”

“Don’t forget the macaroons and espresso cookies.”

“We’re about to get sugar wasted,” I cheer.

“All it takes to get you excited is the promise of dessert.”

“Oh no, not any dessert, superb dessert that I’m about to gorge on and not feel bad about. This has been a damn stressful month.”

“That it has, my love. We’re going to treat ourselves.”

The promise of sweets puts an extra pep in my step along with the fact that I’ll never see Marilyn Bird again. We’ve come through our first bad storm stronger for the test. Things are good.