The Last Exhale (22 page)

An hour later, I'm standing up front, handing my massage therapist my Visa for the best therapy session known to man. “Fatima, you don't know how much I needed that.”

“It was written all over your face when you walked in.”

“I looked that bad, huh?”

“Stressed, not bad. Felt it in every fiber of your skin.”

Another pained exhale. I want to confide in her, though I feel like she already knows. The way her eyes hold sympathy toward me is as if the knots in my body told her my secrets. I divert the conversation. “How's that baby of yours?”

“He's walking and talking like he was doing it in the womb.” She grabs a picture from the desk and hands it to me. “Can't remember what life was like before him, and can't imagine my life without him.” Her voice tells me that's nothing but the truth.

I've known Fatima since high school. We ran cross country together. Both of us running from unhappy lives. Both of us trying to recoup from lives being torn apart from our fathers' departures. Though mine was still around part time, I had to help repair the damage from the woman he left. That put more strain on me than a child should have to face.

I ask her, “How're things with you and your dad?”

“Much better.” She walks around from behind the desk, walks with me over to the waiting area. “It took some time to digest it all. After having Bennet Amir and seeing how my father treated him, I finally came to a place of forgiveness. I spent all those years without him, didn't want to waste any more time not having him
in my life. I'm sure things could be better, but each day is a new experience, you know.”

I nod. Each day
is
a new experience. The past two days have proved just that. “I'm happy for you, Fatima.” I truly am happy for her. In the years we've known each other, this is the happiest I've seen her. The way sadness is hidden behind her irises lets me know this is the worst she's seen me.

“How are your two?” she says.

I shake my head. “You don't even want to know.”

She chuckles. “I can't imagine. I may soon find out, though.” A smile creeps across her face.

I feel my eyes expand beyond what an ophthalmologist would consider normal. “You're kidding.” I look at her belly, don't see signs of a baby growing inside.

Her left hand, with a serious sparkle to it, flies up to stop my suspicion. “No, no, no. Not yet, at least. But Cory wants us to have a brother or sister for Bennet.”

I glance at her engagement ring. “Have you two set a date yet?”

Fatima moves her head left to right. “It'll definitely be before another baby comes along, that's for sure.” She twists the ring on her finger. “Our situation is more complicated than most, so it's a lot for us to talk about.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” I say, wishing I had thought long and hard when Eric suggested we have another child. Kennedy was a lot to deal with as it was because she made leaving him all the more harder. It's not easy to walk away from a marriage, but even harder when kids are involved. Another baby would make it that much harder. And it did. They're both here now, so no point in wishing life were different. Though, I wonder how he'd feel if I told him about the abortion.

It was three months before we got married.

I never believed in abortion. Never thought I'd be in a position where I would even consider getting one. Then again, never thought I'd end up pregnant out of wedlock. Eric and I had been so careful not to have any accidents like that. We always used protection. Except this one night in particular when hormones betrayed good sense.

I was more open about having unprotected sex with him than he was with me. He was a by-the-books kind of guy for most things, condoms being one of them. Engaged or not, he wasn't having it. Until I put my mouth on his manhood and gave him the best oral sex he had or would ever have in his life. I was horny and we were out of condoms, it seemed like the only option available. I wasn't about to get dressed for the store, neither was he. He knew what he was doing; said he'd pull out. A kiss filled with desire sealed the deal.

Unfortunately, that kiss wouldn't protect his one disobedient sperm from diving in my womb and swimming right into my disobedient egg.

When I first found out, I freaked out. Pulling out is not a smart form of birth control, this I knew, but damn if I didn't have hope it would work. Disappointed was one of the hundreds of emotions
that ran through my veins when the second faint line on the home pregnancy test laughed in my face. I broke the test in half, tossed it in the trash. Pulled out another only for it to repeat the same bad joke as the first. All throughout high school, girls and boys bragged how pulling out worked for them. My girl Fatima was one of those girls. But just like her, an immature decision came back to make us pay in our you-should-have-your-shit-together-by-now years. She chose to have her baby. I didn't.

It took a few days for things to fully sink in. At first, I wondered if it'd be so bad to let Eric in on the result of what our hormones lead us to create, but threw that option out the window because I knew he wouldn't be able to handle the ridicule of being a father before being a husband. Then I thought about calling off the wedding and moving out of state to raise the baby on my own. That wouldn't be fair to the child or to Eric, so I crossed that option off the list. Abortion? I couldn't do that, that was the irresponsible way out. I had no right to take a life I helped create. My options quickly decreased.

Telling Eric and letting his response determine the future of our unborn child weighed heavy on my mind. His parents were devout Christians and did a good job of raising him with Biblical principles. But even with his church upbringing, I do believe he would've considered abortion if it came down to it. He'd be more worried about how it would look explaining to everyone that we messed up and got pregnant before we had a chance to say our vows. He wouldn't want his parents seeing how irresponsible he could be in the heat of the moment.

Luckily, we didn't live together so he never suspected a thing, never saw the fear in my eyes after hours. The only time he even raised a brow was when I told him we needed to put the sex on
hold. To throw him off, I reassured him it was because I had something very special in store for our honeymoon night. That worked. Plus, rearranging his bachelor pad to accommodate his new wife in a few months was at the forefront of his thoughts. He didn't have the energy to be too concerned with not having sex for the time being.

As for me, I had a decision to make, one that would ultimately change the dynamics of our relationship if he were ever to find out.

At six weeks, I terminated the pregnancy. It was the only decision that made sense in the big picture. Was it the best decision? At times, I seriously doubt it. Telling him about the baby could've ended us, and for sure telling him about the abortion would've ended us. And I do feel had we ended things back then, both of us would be a lot happier now. He would've found a woman more suited for the love he had to offer and wouldn't be laid up in another state of consciousness in the hospital, wondering what the hell happened to his life. I would've found someone I could love without questioning my love for him every five minutes, and wouldn't be walking around with another man's scent dangling in my panties while carrying the guilt of my husband's well-being in my heart.

I chose to keep it all to myself.

And have paid the heavy price ever since.

I
t's been hard for me to look at Rene since sleeping with Sydney. Guilt does that to me, clings to my conscience like a dryer sheet to Velcro.

I know she knows. Her breathing changed the moment I walked in the door. It quickened as if she could smell an unfamiliar scent tainting the scent she had become familiar with all these years, then it softened, a faint rise and fall of her chest. I betrayed her. Betrayed me. Betrayed all that we stood for.

Rene looks me dead in the eyes like she's trying to read the last twenty-four hours of my life. Tries to see where I've been and who I've been with. A tear rolls down her face like it did Janet Jackson in
For Colored Girls
when the truth was in the air but she refused to acknowledge it. Just like Jo, my wife says nothing.

I did it because she betrayed me when she chose not to let me do my part as her husband. The Bible says if your eye offends you to pluck it out. My wife offended me by keeping her life a secret, so I did the only thing that would break her heart. Maybe I'm taking the scripture out of context, and I'll probably burn in hell for it, but a man doesn't think about that when he feels he has no other choice.

But I did have a choice.

I could have walked away from what I was building with Sydney. It would not have been easy, not in the least. Her attention was a
seed planted deep in my soul; and she kept watering it, giving it sunshine with her laughs, warming it with her longing for my attention. The seed grew into a desire that I liked feeling. Made it hard to walk away. Still, I could've walked away.

I lean against the opening to my bedroom door, watch as my wife does a weak job of engaging my mom in conversation. Rene turns her head in my direction, looks up at me with eyes asking
How could you?
I blink away the guilt, try to put a smile on my face. My lips shake as they try to spread. Standing in my lie makes me feel like crap. This is the woman I vowed to love forever, the woman I'd marry a million times over if I could. No matter what, I shouldn't have crossed that line.

As if she can hear my thoughts, Rene starts coughing. She coughs so hard bile drips from her lips. My mom gets up from the corner of the bed to clean up her daughter-in-law. I can't let my mom do my job. I go to my wife's side, remove the cloth from my mom's hand, do what I vowed to do.

My parents made it in late last night before visiting hours at the hospital were over. I took them straight to the hospital to see their good son. They came for him, to make sure he was okay. They shouldn't be here helping me. I'm the one who's caused the tides to turn for so many lives.

A tear falls from Rene's eye. Another one falls out the other eye.

“Life has a way of humbling you down.”
Lyrics from an Anthony Hamilton song comes to mind. Life has done so much to my wife these past few months. Enough to make me wonder what she did in her past life to deserve all of this. I thumb her tears away, kiss her forehead.

My mom walks over with a fresh gown to put on Rene.

“I'll do that,” I tell her.

She stands her ground. “Your father and I are here to help, son.”

“You're here for Andrew.”

“Andrew is going to be okay.” She says that as if I'm not. “Why don't you let me clean up here, and you and your father go on up to the hospital.”

I'm the last person my brother wants to see. And the way my wife's eyes glare up at me, I'm the last person she wants in her presence as well. Seems like I'm always doing the wrong thing to the people who matter most.

Before I can decline my mother's demand, she takes the gown back from my hands, leaves me with no other choice.

•  •  •

My father sits in the passenger seat in silence as I drive us to the hospital. I can hear him cursing me out in tongues in his silence. Hear him questioning himself on how he raised me, why I turned out so different than the son who was conceived from the same egg. His silence kills me a thousand times.

“I know you're disappointed in me.” I hear my thoughts break the silence.

He taps his fingers against his thigh. “I just don't understand, son.”

This lack of understanding goes beyond the past two days, beyond the accident. They reach back over the last three decades. I've been causing problems since I was in the womb. If I could do it all over again, I'd stay hidden in the womb until I ceased to exist. Making my presence known six months after the fact threw the course of my parents' plans off. Part of me feels I threw things off for Andrew back then as well. Maybe he wishes his existence could have kept me hidden, maybe he would've suffocated me by all the love and affection he was getting in our one-room womb.

I pull up to the parking gate, push the button to get a ticket. Pull forward to the first available spot. Dad gets out, walks two steps ahead of me. Treats me like a stranger.

There's a nurse in the room checking Andrew's vitals, switching out empty painkillers with fresh bags. Mel's asleep in a foldout chair in the corner, blanket hanging off to the ground. Anybody would be restless trying to sleep in a bed smaller than a baby's crib.

“How's he doing?” Dad asks the nurse.

“He's in pain. Had a fever through the night, but it's under control now.” She looks back at Andrew. “He's been restless, so I gave him a little something to help him sleep.”

Dad glances at me, then thanks the nurse.

I walk over to where my sister-in-law is laid out, rub her shoulder.

She jumps at my touch nearly falling off the sleeper-chair. “Drew.”

I motion my eyes to the man lying in the bed beside me.

Mel blinks a few times. “What are you doing here? Thought we told you not to come back.”

“He
should
be here,” my dad speaks up. He puts his hand on top his daughter-in-law's hand. “Why don't you go home for a while, get some real rest. If anything changes, we'll give you a call.”

Mel stands up, adjusts her wrinkled clothes. “No disrespect, Mr. Carter. As long as Brandon's in here, I'd like to stay.”

My father and his son's wife have had a good relationship up until this point. I refuse to let my indiscretions alter any more relationships than they've done already. “I'll leave.”