The Mute and the Menace

by A. R. Breck

  But I can’t help the niggling of doubt that forms. How do I know for certain?

  I open my mouth, but no words come out.

  Jackson turns his gaze towards me, his nostrils flaring in disbelief and his lip curling in distrust.

  He feels betrayed.

  “He’s the father.” My hands tremble in my lap, and I push them between my thighs and squeeze them together as tightly as possible.

  The nurse nods, narrowing her eyes at my lap before turning to the monitor and typing. What the fuck is she typing?

  “Have you given thought on your options? Keeping the baby, adoption, termination…” She seems uncomfortable bringing these questions up, and rightly so. The tension is so thick in this room it’s like a heavy fog. Ominous and fucking stifling.

  “Well, I—” I begin, and a hand slams down on my knee.

  “Still haven’t decided. Next question.” Jackson’s words lash out of him like a whip. I feel each syllable thrash across my heart like harsh blades of grass.

  Tears spring to my eyes because I’m an emotional wreck but I say nothing because I don’t want to start a war within this room.

  “Okay… Cara, would you like to—”

  “No. I’m fine.” I knew she was about to bring up talking to me alone, and I think Jackson may combust if I ask him to leave. And as much as he’s turning my life on its axis, his familiar form and scent bring me a comfort during this insanity.

  She stares at us, fingers poised on the keyboard and uncertainty dancing in her eyes. She wants to call her superior. She wants to advocate for battered women, and I don’t think I could convince her even if I tried that I am not that woman.

  At least not from Jackson.

  “All right. Well, the doctor will be in shortly, but first things first. I need a urine sample. Bathroom is right across the hall and you can leave it in there behind the little door.”

  “Urine sample?” I wrinkle my nose up. Is it not obvious I’m pregnant? “For what?”

  “We need to verify the pregnancy. We also test for chlamydia and check the levels in your urine.”

  “Chlamydia? Seriously?” I can only imagine my eyes are the size of fucking saucers right now, because really? STDs?

  Her forced smile turns into an uncomfortable frown. “I’m sorry, it’s standard protocol.”

  I look at Jackson, and he closes his eyes on an exhale. This has got to be one of the most uncomfortable things he’s ever done. He looks ready to bolt.

  “Okay.” I grab the little container from her hand and follow her out the door. I follow the instructions, wiping with the sanitary wipes and peeing into the cup. I put it behind the little metal door and wash my hands quickly.

  As I’m walking to the door, I stop in confusion on why I’m going so fast through the motions. Realization hits me that I’m worried Jackson will have left.

  I don’t want him to leave.

  I need him here. And it’s with that thought that I leave the bathroom and hurry across the hall. Flinging the door opened, my heart overflows with relief when I see Jackson still sitting there, tense look on his face and his body coiled tight with tension.

  “You’re still here.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “Where else would I be?”

  I wipe my hands on my shorts, feeling all kind of out of sorts. “I don’t know. You don’t look very happy to be here.”

  I sit back down in the chair next to him and look down at my black converse.

  I’m glad he’s here, and I don’t really know how to take that. He might not want to be here, but he’s sticking it out. For what, so I’m not alone? So he can make sure I don’t do anything stupid? It doesn’t matter, because I’m selfish and I will take him anyway I can get him.

  A knock comes on the door, then it opens and a middle aged woman pokes her head around the corner with a friendly smile. “Cara? My name is Dr. Bragburn. Nice to meet you. She walks in pulls some mobile machine with her. She smiles at Jackson. “Hi, Dr. Bragburn.”

  She reaches out and grabs with her small hand with his large one. “Jackson.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Dr. Bragburn walks to the desk and logs in. Clicking and clacking on the keyboard as she checks out my chart.

  Jackson presses down on my knee with his hand, stopping my uncontrollable shaking. I give him a soft smile, and he rewards me with a squeeze. The tension around his eyes settle, and for a moment, it’s just us. In his dark room with the only sound being our breath and sighs. We speak without actually speaking. The cocoon we made for ourselves is indestructible.

  “So, Cara,” Dr. Bragburn snaps us out of our trance. “Eighteen years old. You think you’re about four months pregnant? How are you feeling?”

  I bob my head from side to side. “Eh, okay. I’m really tired and was nauseous for a bit, but it’s getting a little better.”

  She nods at me with a nice smile on her face. Her brown-gray hair is pulled back in a wiry bun at the base of her head, and her white doctors coat has little buttons pinned to the front pocket. One little one has a smiley face on it, and the other has a bright red button that says #1 Mom! I can’t help the tang of bitterness that floods my tongue. If only I could have had a mom like Dr. Bragburn. Instead, I’m stuck with a mom that thinks I’m a whore. Then there’s Jackson’s mom, who’s a drugged-out coke head. This kid will have wonderful grandparents.

  Exactly why I’m choosing adoption.

  “According to your last menstrual period, I would have to agree with your assumption that you’re about four months pregnant. But let’s take a look just to be sure, okay?”

  I nod my head, anxiety once again filling me. If the baby is bigger than four months along, the baby is Logan’s. If the baby is smaller than that, it’s Jackson’s. Right?

  “Why don’t you hop up on the table and we’ll get started.”

  I walk over to the table and hop up. Laying back, I swing my eyes to Jackson’s when my belly points up. It protrudes from this position, and warmth fills my cheeks when I see Jackson’s eye zeroed in on it.

  “If you can lift your shirt for me, I’m just going to squirt a little of this gel on your stomach.” She wheels over on her chair with the machine, which I now realize is an ultrasound. I lift my shirt, squeezing my eyes shut and letting out a small twitch when I hear a splurt followed by the feeling of warm goo right below my belly button.

  I keep my eyes closed as I feel some pressure on my lower abdomen. She moves the instrument around my stomach, pausing every few seconds and clicking buttons on the computer. It’s not until I hear the wush-uh wush-uh wush-uh wush-uh that my eyes fly open and I look at the doctor.

  “What is that?”

  “That, my dear, is the baby’s heartbeat. Nice and strong.”

  Tears spring to my eyes, and this time I don’t hold them back. They fall down my cheeks and land on the crinkly paper beneath me. It feels like I’m being smothered with an emotion I didn’t know I harvested. Something akin to love and want fills me and I don’t know what to do with it.

  I choke on a sob and look over at Jackson. His eyes are filled with wonder as he leans over his chair, practically bending in half. It’s like he’s trying to subconsciously reach the baby that beats the strong rhythm in my belly.

  He looks up at me, and the pleading in his eyes tears me in two. He’s begging for me not to tear him in too.

  My heart is already in shreds.

  “And there’s a good look right there.” I automatically look over at the computer screen and see lots of gray static.

  “Where?” Jackson blurts out, his voice full of want.

  The doctor presses a little harder in my stomach and then holds down and clicks a few buttons. She points with her finger and my sob finally breaks free. “There’s the head, and looks, the baby’s hand is in it’s mouth.” She smiles and takes a couple more pictures.

  “I see it.” I smile through a pool of tears and look at Jackson. “You see it?”

  “Yeah. I
see it.” His eyes shine bright and he can’t pull his eyes from the screen.

  Dr. Bragburn pulls the wand off my stomach and pushes the machine away. She snaps off her gloves and wheels back to the computer. “From the looks of it, I would say you’re about four months along. I’m going to do a due date of February 18.”

  Four months? Does that mean it’s Jackson’s baby?

  “Are you sure?” I ask as I wipe off my stomach with the nearby towel.

  She presses a button and starts to pull something off the ultrasound machine. “I’m pretty sure. Give or take a couple weeks. The baby is big, but first mothers usually go over their due date. Is there a reason you ask?” She frowns at me.

  “No. Just wondering.” I sit up and pull my shirt over my stomach.

  She goes back to smiling and hands me some papers. “Go ahead and make an appointment one month out. We can determine the sex at twenty weeks. Did you want to know the gender?”

  “Um, I don’t know?” I frame the statement as a question, looking over at Jackson for advice.

  “Yes, we do.” He speaks up, so sure of himself again and I want to fall into his arms and have him carry the weight I’m harboring. It feels like a million pounds of doubt.

  “Wonderful. I’ll see you in four weeks then. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me at any time. Oh, and here. Here are some pictures of the baby to show off to family and friends.”

  She hands me some tiny pictures and the little baby I’m in such awe of stares back at me.

  I try to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it consistently remains.

  “Thank you.” I whisper.

  “No problem, dear. Have a great day.” She excuses herself and leaves the room.

  Jackson lazily stands up from his chair and walks over to me. He grabs the picture out of my hand and looks at it. Inspects it. Memorizes it. Grazing his finger across it, he whispers, “A fucking baby...”

  I hate the fact that I have to break his heart and give this baby up. If I could, I would just give it to him. Let him adopt it. But I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t be able to ever see him again. Therefore, I’d probably never see Rose or Easton again either.

  No, I need to cut all ties.

  Even if I don’t survive the agony.

  “So, I wanted to ask you something.” Jackson says on the ride home.

  We haven’t spoken much since we left the clinic. I needed time to think about the doctor visit, and Jackson prefers his usual silence anyway.

  I’m almost scared to hear what he wants to ask me.

  “What is it?” I rub my eyes, exhaustion hitting me from head to toe. More than just my usual physical fatigue, the day’s events has made me utterly mentally exhausted as well.

  “I’m going to California.”

  I whip my head in his direction. “You’re what?” I shout. “When?”

  “In a few weeks.”

  My eyes flitter back and forth, trying to digest what he’s saying. The last time these boys left me, one less came back.

  “For what? For how long? Is Easton going?” The questions tumble out of me at a rapid pace. It feels like my heart is beating a million miles a second and I have to crank down the window to let some fresh—albeit humid—air in.

  “Business.” He can read the horror on my face. “Not like that. At least, it shouldn’t be. I don’t know for sure though.”

  My ears ringing with panic and I dig my fingers into the seat below me.

  “I’ll only be gone a few days. Easton is coming, I think Rose is, too.”

  “What? She hasn’t said anything.” My forehead wrinkles in confusion. She hasn’t said a word about any of this.

  He shrugs. “She might not know. But he’s going to ask her, I’m assuming she’ll say yes.”

  She will say yes. I think Rose’s panic about them leaving is about as bad as mine. No way in hell will she let him go anywhere without her. At least for a while.

  “Want to come?” He springs out of nowhere.

  I blink at him. Then blink some more.

  “What?” I utter out.

  “To Cali? Want to come?”

  “I-ah, I can’t.” I point to my belly. “I’m pregnant, remember?”

  “You can fly until third trimester. You’re good.” He surprises me, again and again.

  I burst out a laugh. “What? How the fuck do you know that?”

  He looks out the window, back of his head facing me. Is he… is he embarrassed?

  “I looked it up.” He mumbles.

  “You… looked it up?”

  He whips his head towards me, irritation plain as day in his eyes. “Yes, I looked it up. Shut the fuck up about it.”

  I sink back in my seat. Whatever.

  “I probably shouldn’t. I have to get everything situated with the adoption and…” I choke on nothing. “Yeah…” I trail off.

  He slams his hand into the steering wheel. The horn honks when he does it again. I sink so heavily into the seat beneath me I can only hope it absorbs me. I hate when he gets like this. He would never hurt me—intentionally—but when he has outbursts like this, it’s frightening. Purely, fucking frightening.

  We finally pull into the park, thankfully, because I want to get away from him. Escape into my house and break down in peace.

  He turns the wheel erratically and screeches to a halt in front of my house. I go to open the door when he reaches over and slams his palm on the lock.

  “I’m really… fucking… tired of hearing about this fucking adoption. I swear Cara, bring that shit up one more time, I’ll lose my God damned mind.”

  I swallow, the manic energy emanating from him is wild. He’s completely untamed and with his lips pulled behind his teeth, he looks like a wild animal.

  I’m the fucking prey.

  “Now get out of this fucking truck, and I’ll see you soon.” He leans over me, pulling the lock up.

  Once he clears my space, I open up the door and slip out as quickly as possible.

  My temper and emotions won’t let him get away that easily, though.

  “You’re a maniac, Jackson. A fucking psychopath!”

  “And you’re a fucking menace, Cara. You’ve got a pass right now, but I’m counting down the fucking days until I can slap your ass bloody.”

  My face flames red and my body warms with his words, half turned on and half furious. The moisture between my legs wants his breath between my legs, while my head wants to clock him in the face.

  My mind is twisted.

  “If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d kick your fucking ass.”

  He laughs at me.

  He laughs at me.

  “Pack your bags, Cara. You’re coming to California.” He shifts into reverse and pulls out, turning the corner and going towards Easton’s house.

  I stand there, bewildered and fuming.

  What the fuck was that?

  10

  Jackson

  Age Fourteen

  “Race?” Logan asks, a toothy grin on his goofy ass face.

  “Where?” Easton asks, pulling up behind him on his bike.

  “Let’s go down the hill by the yellow slide.” He starts doing tricks on his bike around us, and I roll my eyes.

  If there was one word I had to use to describe Logan it would be hyper. He’s my best friend, but the kid seriously can go for hours without stopping. His blond hair is overgrown and flops about his head in waves. His constant happiness is a relief from the house I have to go home to at the end of the day.

  Easton tones down Logan a little bit. I think without Easton, Logan would literally run up the walls. The kid is ADHD and no one is slowing him down.

  “That hill is fucking nuts.”

  “Exactly.” Stars dance in his eyes, and I puff out a silent laugh at his joy.

  Easton looks at me, eyebrows raised in question.

  I shrug. Why not? Nothing else to do.

  The hill by the yellow slide is right next to the
park. The park sits on top of a hill, and the lumpy, obnoxious hill next to it is half gravel and half dead grass. Biking down it would be stupid, which is exactly where the appeal comes from.

  We’re boys, we’re stupid, and we do stupid shit.

  We each ride our Mongoose bike with the pegs on the back, brand new and sleek black. Easton’s bike is full black, Logan’s is black and lime green, and mine is black with red. My dad almost wasn’t going to get one for me, except the boys asked their dads in front of mine, so I really had no choice. Then Pops didn’t really have a choice but to agree.

  I had a sprained wrist for that mistake.

  We start riding through the park to the hill. Across the street sits a playground, outdated and probably not even safe at this point. Doesn’t matter, we still used to play on it all hours of the day. So why we’ve never tried biking down this hill before, I don’t know.

  Guess now is better than never.

  My legs start to ache by the time I get to the top, and I lungs burn from exertion. I wish I had an A&W to down right about now.

  “We racin’?” Logan pedals backwards over and over again, making the gears constantly click, click, click.

  “Yeah. Last one down has be the bitch for the rest of the day?” Easton’s razor-sharp teeth glint in the sun, making him look like the devil himself.

  “Hell yes!” Logan pops a wheelie.

  I don’t say anything, but the fire lit in my eyes gives away my excitement. I might not talk much, but I love this shit just as much as Logan.

  We line up on the edge of the hill, kids squealing behind us on the swings and the slide, but the tension starts to fill us at the last second. This hill is tall and uneven. The moment one of us biffs out, it might mean the end for the rest of us.

  “Ready?” Logan says. We all get off the set, legs poised straight.

  “Set?” Easton chimes in. His fingers clench around the handlebars, ready to take off.

  “Go.” I growl.

  We all take off, zipping off the cliff and down the rocky hill. It’s bumpy, and uncomfortable as hell, but we all cackle as we speed down. The wind flies in my face and my eyes dry out. Sandpaper grates on my eyelids every time I blink, and it gets so rough I can barely see.