Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  Finally letting out the air I was keeping in for what seemed like forever, I looked at myself in the mirror. What am I going to do? The past couple weeks, my body felt different. I just knew I was pregnant, but as I stared at myself, I still looked like me. I could feel the tears beginning to swell in my eyes. What will he think about this? A small part of me feared that he’d be thrilled, but why was I scared about that reaction?

  A light knock on the door broke into my thoughts. “Mia, you ready? Elle is growing impatient.” Marcus voice pierced through the door. Grabbing the test and the now-empty package, I shoved both into my purse. Glancing one last time in the mirror, I inhaled and open the door.

  Marcus eyed me curiously. “What were you doing in there anyways? You never lock the door.” He asked.

  I wanted to throw myself in his arms, cry, and tell him our news. But I couldn’t, well just not at this moment. I wasn’t sure myself how I felt about the entire situation. “I’m not feeling well.” I managed a slight lie; holding my hand against my stomach, I looked up at him. “I didn’t want you to walk in on me if I threw up.”

  He slightly pouted. “Aw babe, you got a stomach bug or something?”

  Oh I have a something alright. “Maybe.” I shrugged.

  “Wanna stay home? I can take Elle to the carnival myself. I’ll try to be back in a couple hours.”

  Waving my hand, I quickly replied, “No, no, I promised Elle I would go. Besides I feel better now, it comes and goes.”

  He stared at me with a raised eyebrow. “Sure?”

  “Yes, I’m certain.” Not really, but it wasn’t the time to tell him.

  During our ride to the carnival, Elle and Marcus played the “I spy with my little eye” game. My mind was too distracted to join in. Staring out the window, I watched other people drive by in their cars. Some drivers were alone, others were laughing with passengers, some were even singing along to a song. I wondered as I saw their faces fly by if any of them were struggling with the same issues I was: second-year law student, pregnant by a man with a double life.

  During the last two months, we spent lots of time together. Jeremy had been staying at Stacy’s house a lot. I didn’t like staying home alone, especially knowing that the black SUV was parked outside. I hadn’t mentioned anything to Marcus about it. The days that Marcus was at my place, it was never there. I’d never seen it near his place as well, so I didn’t want to worry him with my speculations. I was sure it was nothing, but something about that vehicle gave me a bad vibe.

  At the office, I hadn’t run into Stephanie. The day after the picture message she was moved to another department. Marcus’ new assistant was a sixty-year-old woman. Marcus still felt bad about the entire situation. Several times a day he’d hand me his phone, giving me permission to go through it, but I trusted him even with all the females in the office flocking over to him. I didn’t want to base our relationship on having to be a part-time probation officer. I always declined. There has to be trust in a relationship, especially with a little one on the way. Looking down at my belly, I tightly wrapped my arms around myself.

  It was going to be hard going to school full time, studying, maintaining my 4.0 GPA, and dealing with pregnancy hormones. I had to tell Marcus, but I didn’t know how. Should I set an appointment to see how far along I am and then tell him, or should I just come out and say it?

  My biggest fear was rejection. I knew he’d make a great father, but what if he didn’t want to be a father? Was I prepared to be a single mother? Regardless if he accepted it or not, we’d only known each other for two and a half months; others will think the worst. Knowing Marcus he would say, “Stop worrying about what others may think. Who cares about them?”

  It’s true I shouldn’t worry what people will say. There is always someone judging you, no matter how good a person you are. Hell you could be a saint, and still there would be that one person who’ll despise you. That was fine, though being judged by his family? That was something I wouldn’t be able to handle. I had grown to love them so much. It would hurt me to lose them all.

  “We’re here!” Elle squealed. She jumped up and down in her seat. Marcus laughed at her. After parking in a spot, we exited and walked to the entrance.

  The sun had set, and the light breeze made a beautiful evening for rides. Bright lights from the roller coasters and booths illuminated the entire park. It was extravagant and over the top. It made me feel like I was ten years old again. My father took me to one similar to this, though it was smaller and at a local supermarket parking lot.

  “Daddy, look! Can we pleeease go on the Ferris wheel? Please!” I’d pulled on my dad’s hand, and he chuckled at my enthusiasm. Glancing down, his radiant brown eyes beamed at me. I loved the way the sides of his eyes wrinkled when had a huge smile. It was one of those smiles that led to his famous small raspy chuckle.

  “It goes really high, Mia, are you sure?”

  “Oh yes, daddy, please?” I begged, pressing both my hands together and tucking them toward my chin.

  “Okay.” He emphasized with amusement.

  Biting my lip, I couldn’t hide my excitement. We walked to the ticket guy. My dad gladly handed over our stubs, and the man let us pass. I practically squealed when we entered the cart. It slowly moved a few feet forward to let a couple in the cart behind us. It continued to move bit by bit until we were all the way on top. Stretching my neck, I looked over to see below us.

  “Wow, daddy, the cars look so small from here. And look at all the people; they look like dwarfs!” I giggled.

  “Mia, you’re one brave young lady; I’ll tell you that much.” Turning to face him, I beamed for two reasons: one, he kept his promise and brought me to the carnival; two, he referred to me as a young lady and not a little girl.

  Tucking myself under his arm, I squeezed tightly. “Thank you, daddy, this is the best day ever!”

  Sighing at the memory of my father, I held back my tears. It was ten years ago since his death, and I still love him more each day. The older I get, the more I cherish those memories. His love and care for me made me the woman I am today. He taught me to be strong, outspoken, and never trust easily. After losing two important men in my life, I built a wall, not allowing anyone in. Once Marcus stepped into my life, that wall slowly crumbled. Finally I’d found a man that I could trust.

  Since Marcus had confessed some of his second life, he’d kept his promise. Although, he worked more than one night a week now, he hadn’t come home drunk like that night. Instead after a job, he would lie next to me in bed and tightly hug me. I’d run my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. Keeping that small promise to me allowed all my fears about us to vanish. I knew we’d be okay, and there was nothing to fear. I knew that I shouldn’t keep this big secret to myself.

  “You okay, babe. You’ve been really quiet.” Marcus wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

  Turning my head to him, I smiled. Staring into his concerned expression warmed my heart; he was everything I wanted, needed and more. “Yeah I’m fine, so what do we do first?”

  “Ferris wheel!” Elle yelled. I laughed at how much she reminded me of myself.

  After a few rides and games at the booth, we were beat! Marcus had Elle thrown over his shoulder. She was fast asleep as her head and arms swayed side-to-side when he walked. He held an oversized stuffed animal horse on his other arm. I held another two medium-sized stuffed animals. All three Marcus won for her.

  When we reached the car, Marcus gently placed her in the backseat and secured her seatbelt. Only the two medium-sized stuffed animals I held fit in the trunk, so the large one lay in the backseat next to Elle. When we got into the car, Marcus took his phone out of the glove compartment. Turning it on, he glanced at it and sighed heavily.

  “Shit.” He said while glancing at a message.

  “What?” I asked praying it wasn’t Lou. I really wanted to talk to him when we got back home.

  “I have to go in. What time is it?” He
looked up at the dashboard, and I followed his eyes. It was ten o’clock.

  “I have plenty of time.” He said relieved and tapped his fingers against his screen. Rolling my eyes, I huffed. Not realizing it was a loud sarcastic exhale, I was surprised when he turned his head. His eyebrows pulled together. “What’s wrong?”

  Crossing my arms, I looked out the window. “Nothing.”

  He blew out air. “Come on, Mia, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  Arms still crossed, I turned my head to look at him. “Can you cancel today? I need to talk to you.”

  His expression went from irritated to concern in a nanosecond. “What about?”

  Looking anywhere but his eyes, I tried to come up with an excuse about why I wanted to wait. “I want to be alone, in private.”

  “Mia, what’s going on? You’ve been quiet all day, distant even. Did I do something wrong?” He spoke nervously.

  “No! No. You didn’t do anything. We just need to talk. It’s important,” I whispered the last sentence. It was important. I didn’t want to talk about this with Elle in the backseat, not knowing how he would react.

  “Okay, let me see if I can get someone to go in for me tonight.” Grabbing his phone, he dabbed a few keys. I hope he can. I can’t keep this in any longer.

  ****

  I woke up startled by the sound of footsteps in the bathroom. Instantly knowing that Marcus was home, I jumped out of bed. Apparently this job was too big to have some amateur handle it. He promised as soon as he got in, he would wake me so we could talk. The nightstand clock read three in the morning. How did he have so much energy to do anything?

  Sliding my feet into house slippers, I made my way into the bathroom. The bright light in the bathroom caused my eyes to squint. When my eyes were finally focused, I caught sight of Marcus. He was slumped over the sink, washing his hands. His jacket was thrown on the floor beside him. He looked up at the mirror, feeling my presence. When he saw my reflection in the mirror, he rolled his eyes, and shook his head. I was taken aback. I never get this reaction from him.

  Not turning around to face me, he snarled, “Mia, go to bed.”

  “You said we could talk when you got home.” I muttered.

  Adding more liquid soap in his hands, he continued to roughly scrub them. “Mia, tomorrow, it’s late. Go to bed.”

  It took me a few minutes to process his demeanor. He’d never spoken in this tone with me. It’s like I was irritating him. I started analyzing today, wondering what I did or said to deserve his attack. The water stopped running, and meeting my gaze in the mirror, he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable.

  “Are you okay, Marcus?” At my concerned words, he lowered his head. I took a few steps toward him, and he immediately shot his head up.

  “Don’t come any closer, Mia. Just go to bed!” He snapped.

  My heart dropped. He just yelled at me—really yelled at me. What did I do? Has he found out what I’ve kept from him? Does he know? He couldn’t know. There’s no way he could have found out. Does he suspect that I am?

  Trying so hard not to cry, I could feel my lips tremble. The hormones, lack of sleep, and exhausting day did not allow me to hold them in. I burst into tears. When he saw that he hurt my feelings, he quickly ripped off his shirt, throwing it into the sink.

  Running to me, he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Mia! I just didn’t want you to see.”

  “See what?” I asked sniffing. Pulling away from him, I looked at the white t-shirt he was wearing, it was spotted with blood. Rubbing his chest, I search to find his wound. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

  Grabbing my wrists to stop me, he stepped back still holding my hands together. “No, it’s not mine,” he whispered.

  It’s not his. It’s not his. Then whose blood is on his shirt? Pushing him aside, I walked toward the sink. Grabbing the collar of the button-up, I lifted it till it was at eye level. The entire front of his shirt was drenched in splattered blood. Gasping, I dropped it. The fabric slowly fell and landed on my feet. I could feel the dampness of fresh blood against my skin. Disgusted, I kicked it away.

  I turned to face him. His eyes were filled with horror. Was it fear of what he’d done or what I would do once I found out what he’d done? “Whose blood is it, Marcus?” I asked, not able to hide the anxiety behind my tone.

  He tried to make his way over to me. I brought my hand up, forcing him to halt. I couldn’t have him near me, not then, not when I needed answers. “Marcus, this is not one of those questions that you can avoid with a simple hug or kiss. Do not come near me! Whose blood is this?”

  Lowering his head, his shoulders dropped. He was defeated. He knew there was no getting around this. He brought his hand up, pressing his fingers against his forehead. He seemed to be thinking. What was there to think about? Irritation began to possess every inch of my body. “Whose is it, Marcus!” I snapped.

  Finally looking up, he pressed down on his lips. His breathing began to pick up, and I could see his chest heaving up and down through the thin cotton fabric, which was now covered in smeared blood. “I-I … it was a bad exchange. Mia. I … there was nothing else I could’ve done.”

  I gasped, bringing my hand to my mouth. Looking in his eyes, I wanted him to say it, to clarify it. “You killed someone?”

  His eyes were begging me to understand. I couldn’t stop staring at him in fear, in shock. He was standing there, my Marcus, the man I had grown to love and know, yet he was covered in blood and asking me to understand a “bad exchange.” I began to feel nauseated and lightheaded. Stumbling back a few steps, I leaned against the sink. Clenching my hand along the edge of the granite top and placing my other hand against my stomach, I glanced at the floor. I looked at his shirt beside my foot. It was covered in so much blood, another man’s blood. He could have been someone’s husband, father, or uncle, someone’s son or brother.

  Tears began to flow down my cheeks. I began to sob, feeling sorry for a man I didn’t know, yet I could feel the sorrow of his loss, of his family’s loss. The picture of Marcus standing in front of a man and blowing his brains out came to mind: blood and skull splattered all over. The thought instantly brought vomit to my throat; not able to hold it, I ran to the toilet. Once I opened the lid, I threw up.

  “Mia, baby.” Marcus was at my side, rubbing his hand along my back.

  “No! Get away from me!” I pushed him away with my hand, as I continued, straining to throw my guts up. Tears fell from my eyes. Once I was finished, I rested my head on my arm, which was wrapped around the toilet seat. The taste of the vomit in my mouth made me want to do it again. After a few seconds, I managed to stand and walk over to the sink. Marcus was leaning against the wall, looking at me desperately. I ignored him and brushed my teeth, trying to erase the taste. After rinsing my mouth twice, I stormed into the bedroom.

  What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t even look at him, let alone stay in the same room as him. I walked over to the drawer he said was mine and in one swoop grabbed all of my clothes, dumping them onto the bed. Walking back, I opened the second and third drawers and did the same.

  Marcus walked over to me and reached for my wrist. Pulling away, I walked past him and headed for the closet. I spotted my small suitcase and rolled it over to the bedroom. When I walked back in, Marcus was placing my clothes back in the drawers. “Marcus, what the hell are you doing?” I yelled.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Mia. I won’t let you. Please, you have to talk to me. Let me explain,” he begged.

  “Marcus, I am tired of this!” Dropping the suitcase to the ground, I lifted my hand to my chest. “I can’t do this anymore: the late nights, your second life. I love …” The tears began to take over again, and I was practically sobbing. I wasn’t sure if I was even understandable. “I love you so much, and it will hurt for me to leave, but I have to do what’s best.”

  He ran to me, keeping his distance, not sure if I was ready for him to touch me. His eyes were
lost and confused. “Please, Mia, don’t leave me. I-I know I fucked up. I had no choice, Mia. Please, you’re the only person that I live for.” His voice broke at the last words.

  “You don’t understand. It’s not about me anymore, Marcus. I have a bigger responsibility to take care of and think about now. It’s way bigger than both of us, and I’m not ready to bring that around this.” I said, waving my hand at his bloody shirt.

  Looking down at his shirt, he brought his gaze back to me. “Please, Mia, don’t do this; I need you.”

  “Someone else needs me more.” I said, pressing my hands against my belly.

  Chapter Eighteen

  He looked down at my hands, back up into my eyes, and then down at my hands again. His head slightly tilted to the side. After a few seconds, he caught on and gasped taking a step back. Slowly his gaze met mine again. Tears begin to sting his eyes.

  “Y-you’re pregnant?” He breathed the question in shock. Not saying a word to him, I just simply nodded. This was not how I expected to tell him; this was not how I wanted to tell him. Yet there we were. Before, my fear was of his reaction; now, my biggest fear was of knowing I’d have to do this alone because I wouldn’t allow my child to grow up in this environment.

  He swallowed hard and stepped in closer. He looked at me to see if it was okay. I didn’t move, so he inched in some more, meeting my eyes again to see if I’d retreat. I didn’t move. Cautiously he brought his hand and placed in on top of mine. Sliding my hands away so that he could touch, he gently caressed my belly. A gentle smile formed on his face; looking up at me, his eyebrows furrowed. Slowly he lowered his head toward mine. I wanted to kiss him desperately; I wanted this moment to be special, to be a happy moment for the both of us. When his lips almost brushed mine, I pulled away completely smacking his hand off of me.

  Within that second, I regretted my reaction when I saw the hurt of my rejection on his face. It made my stomach twist in knots. Leaving him would not only hurt me but it would cause so much pain to him. I didn’t know if I could handle that, but it wasn’t about me anymore. I needed to focus on what was more important, and that was the safety of my unborn child, our unborn child. I had this instant connection with my baby, this need to protect it.