Learning to Heal

by Cole, R. D.

  He’s staring at me with so much confusion and hurt I try to lighten his mood by giving him a small smile. He doesn’t return it like I was hoping, though. I suddenly feel alone and unwelcome in the house where I grew up.

  I return my eyes to my brother, “Nobody. Just a guy I’ve been seeing.”

  I hear a chair slide back from the table, and I look to see Tru’s back as she leaves the room. Jax tears his eyes from me and looks like he’s debating on following her or staying. He glances at me once more. “I want a name. And I want it now.”

  Before I can tell him it doesn’t matter because he’s not going to be around, I feel Mason’s strong, warm hand slide gingerly into mine and squeeze. His support is just what I need to get through the rest of the day, so I hold on tightly and glance his way. I hope my eyes say how much I appreciate his friendship.

  He turns toward Jax and says the last thing I would ever expect. “It’s mine. I’m the father.” My stomach hits my feet and I’m speechless. What. The. Fuck.

  Before I can find my tongue all hell breaks loose. Jax is across the table and Mason’s on the floor under my brother’s fist. Mason’s little sister Grace, who’s autistic and sitting beside him, starts screaming from the commotion. I try to run toward her but Mom’s there before I can climb over the bodies rolling around on the dining room floor. Somehow Mason pushes Jax off, so I step between them as he slowly gets off the floor. Thankfully David’s arms are already around Jax to stop him from charging again while he cusses up a storm. I notice Cohen and Kenzie under the archway that separates the kitchen. Kenzie looks like she’s in shock while Co looks ready to join in.

  “Everybody calm down right now.” Mom holds Grace and rubs her back. She looks pointedly at everyone while trying to gain their attention. However, the hostility is so thick a chain saw probably couldn’t sever it.

  Mason surprises me by facing Jax with a determined look on his face. Dad gets in his line of vision, though, and looks between Mason and me before putting his attention on my brother. He speaks with authority that leaves no room for argument. “Go check on Trudy.” He turns back toward us. “You two, in my office.”

  I watch Jax shake off David’s hold before he stomps toward the same direction Tru went. Mason turns and goes to Grace who jumps in his arms as she cries harder from the sight of his busted lip. He looks at my dad without fear or indecision from what he just did. “Sir, can you give me a minute with my sister. I promise, I’ll be there, I just need to make sure she’s okay.”

  My dad nods and looks at my mom. After she goes to his side, he pulls her into an embrace before they walk out of the room. Cohen and McKenzie quickly follow, while Drew just shakes his head and walks out in a different direction.

  I glance toward Mason, ready to yell at him because of what he did, but my dad bellows, grabbing my attention. “Jasmine Marie Coleman. I mean now.”

  I turn and see David sitting at the table, eating, with a smirk plastered on his face like Thanksgiving wasn’t blown all to Hell and back. I give him the finger because I feel like it. This only causes him to laugh harder of course.

  Rolling my eyes, I make my way down the hall and up the stairs with bluster that is totally bogus. In all actuality, I’m really so terrified of what’s to come that my heart vibrates my chest. I take a deep breath and start to rationalize with how ridiculous it is to be so scared. My parents love me and only want what’s best. I know that. They aren’t going to physically harm me. So, why stress? It all comes down to disappointing them, though, and that is something I hate doing, especially after everything they’ve done for me. My life would be pure shit without them … if I were even alive to experience it.

  When I start to calm down, I pass Jax’s room and hear Tru’s grief stricken cries. My feet stop and the urge to go check on my best friend is so overwhelming I place my shaky hand on the doorknob. I stare at the white bedroom door wanting to make her feel better, but I don’t know how or why she’s so upset. Regardless of my confusion, the sound of her heartache causes my eyes to burn and my own tears to fall. I change my mind and keep walking, knowing my presence won’t be welcome.

  I reach my dad’s office and knock on the ominous door.

  “Come in.” My dad’s deep baritone voice reaches me through the wood, and I turn the handle. I say a prayer before I walk through, not sure if I’m ready to face my parents.

  Once I step inside, my dad walks over and engulfs me in a hug. I let myself relax into his warmth while surrounding me with his familiar smell of Old Spice. Mom soon follows and wraps us both in her slender arms. I feel relief because they still love me. But will they after if they learn about my affair with a married man? Who already has children? We stay wrapped for a few short minutes, and when they both release me I feel bereft. Taking a breath, I go sit on dad’s favorite worn, blue couch that’s older than me and try to get comfortable. The hug was the last thing I was expecting and it brings more tears to my eyes. “I’m sorry.” Just breathing breaches the silence after my sobbing apology escapes my lips.

  “How far along are you?” I glance at Dad, so glad for those words instead of him asking me to pack my bags. The man in front of me looks different than he did twenty minutes ago. Older and more tired, not disappointed like I pictured.

  Guilt for causing him to age and worry over my selfish actions overtakes me, but I battle it.

  “Ten weeks.” Pulling out the ultrasound that confirmed my suspicions two weeks ago, I pass it to Mom. I feel an automatic smile lift one corner of my mouth from just looking at the black and white image. I don’t know what the hell it all is besides a small lima bean-shaped blob.

  “And what’s your plan?”

  Shaking myself from my thoughts, I turn again and face my dad. When his question registers in my brain, I can’t help but look at him like he’s lost his flippin’ mind. “What do you mean?”

  “Jasmine, have you thought about this? And I don’t mean about the baby. I mean really, really thought about this and what it means for your health?”

  He sits beside me and I turn to face him. He knows all about my heart condition because he’s the one that did the second surgery on me since the first one decided to do more harm than good. I was sent in shortly after I landed in the system for having a “tet” episode where I lost oxygen and became cyanotic.

  “Yes.”

  It’s all I think about. Instead of speaking my fears out loud, I smile and rush to ease their worries. They need to know or at least think I have everything under control. “But I already spoke to my doctor and they made an appointment with a local specialist to follow my pregnancy.” They even have me on watch. If I have any issues throughout this pregnancy, they say they’ll abort my baby. If it’s up to me, though, that will never happen. I plan on taking it easy and after getting today over with, the rest should be a piece of cake. Or at least I hope so. I’ll focus on a stress free pregnancy. Maybe do yoga or something like that. Plus, I promised myself I wouldn’t worry until after a cause surfaced. Once I go to the specialist, I’ll have a better understanding of what the future holds. Besides, every case is different. I’ve done my research on women with Tetralogy of Fallot who become pregnant and the outcome is usually good. Then again, most were probably able to run outside with other kids or jump in the pool without getting lightheaded and dizzy. Those episodes haven’t happened in a while so I hope my heart problem doesn’t cause health issues for my unborn child.

  I shake these dismal thoughts from my head. I have bigger fish to fry and his name starts with M. I plan on frying his ass until he gets some damn sense in his head.

  Sitting on the dining room floor, I hold Grace in my lap while she cries. I feel like crying myself and not from the pain in my jaw, but from the news Jazz shared. Since that still hurts to think about, I’ll concentrate on my throbbing face, but my mind still does a play-by-play of the past five minutes. Well, I think it’s been five minutes. Maybe it’s been longer. I remember everything happening in slo
w motion after Jazz announced she was having a baby. Panic set in and my heart broke with every second that passed while I sat there waiting for her to say “just joking” or “not” in her sweet voice. However, she looked uncomfortable and nervous, so I knew it was no joke. Then I felt anger over the bastard abandoning her. No one should raise a child alone. And thinking of Jazz lonely and tired had me grabbing her hand. She has me and it’s about time she knows it.

  I’ve known from the moment I saw her picture that she was out of my league. Her vibrant beauty is something only guys like David and Jax attract, not someone who likes to take apart computers or car engines just to put them together again. Studying something slowly to see how I can make it work the same way or differently is what gets my blood pumping, but seeing her caused the same effect and I knew I was in deep shit. I shouldn’t have felt any of those things, but I did ... and still do. The more I watched her, the more fascinated I was and it’s almost become an obsession. Rash decisions are not in me … or so I thought. Slow is more my speed. I like to study and calculate every possible outcome to all my actions. That way I won’t be disappointed when things don’t turn out like I thought because I anticipated every possible outcome.

  But she always throws me for a loop with everything she says and does. With her confident walk and guarded eyes, she’s something else, and I have been building up my courage over the past few months just to touch her. I’ve been able to a few times and it still amazes me that I even can. Every time I feel her soft skin under my fingertips I get hot and have to pull away before I make a fool out of myself. I’m not like David or Jax when it comes to girls. Sure, I’m not virgin, but I’m no smooth talking playboy either.

  My childhood wasn’t really a childhood at all. I would stay home most weekends while I was in high school. Mom needed to work a lot so I took care of Grace and still do when she needs to work. Needless to say my social life was nonexistent. I’m not saying I was a leper or some shit like that. I had friends and we’d play video games and go skate at the park, but that was rare. I usually did it if Grace was at therapy. Mom could rarely afford to get off of work to take her so I would study things on the school’s internet and print out different pages to take home and work with her. Speech is still not happening, but I believe if she wants to speak, she will.

  I shake my head and rub Grace’s back as her breathing slows. She’s not used to screaming or violence. We try to keep all her surroundings calm because she picks up on every sensation and detail. Today’s situation is a lot for her to take in and I’m sure she’s feeling an overload of feelings.

  “Shhh, baby girl, it’s okay.” I feel her grip tighten on me and hear her moan as a response to my voice.

  Finally after another minute she gets up and walks over to the table like nothing traumatic just happened. I straighten our chairs and make her a plate of sweet potatoes, mac and cheese, and dressing. She still has issues with chewing, so we like to stick to soft foods to prevent her from choking. I kiss the top of her head and notice David watching me while he eats. He doesn’t look angry like he did earlier. Jazz has been like a sister to him since they met when she was fifteen. Instead, he’s displaying his famous Mr. Know-it-all smirk.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  He leans back in his chair and laughs. “You.” He takes a large gulp of his drink before he continues. “I honestly didn’t think you had it in you to even touch a girl, but you did. And not just any girl, but your best friend’s little sister.”

  He stands up as I’m about to say something, but I bite my tongue. I led them to believe that I’m the father of Jazz’s baby and I won’t take it back. I’m desperate to have her in my life and since she obviously doesn’t want to acknowledge who the dick head is—no pun intended—I’ll try to be good enough for her.

  He throws his arm around my shoulder and leads me to the stairs. I’m dreading what waits for me up there, but I need to do this. Also, Jazz is up there alone and I want to be there for her.

  Before I can dislodge David’s hold, he stops and looks up at the twelve-foot ceiling. “If this has to happen, then I’m glad it happened with you and not some asshole.” He releases me and backs away. “Jax will come to realize it too. Just give him time.” He walks away whistling while I break out in a sweat.

  I take a deep breath with every step. By the time I make it to the top, I’m light-headed. Way to go, Mason, prove that you’re able to make yourself pass out. That’ll definitely win her over.

  By the time I reach the office door I start to feel better. My pep talk to myself seemed to help some, but picturing Jazz calms me down even more. Unless I picture her naked … then I really start to get worked up. Shit, the last thing I need is a boner while talking to her parents about getting her pregnant. I imagine the wiring inside my laptop; the low frequency synthesizer and how it sends signals to the phase-frequency detector to help.

  I take a deep breath before knocking on the door. Mrs. Coleman immediately opens it and directs me to take a seat. I look around and zero in on Jazz sitting on a worn, blue couch, crying. Taking a seat beside her, I pull her in my arms. I hate it when she’s upset because she’s not meant to be anything but crazy, confident Jazz. When she hugs me back instead of pushing me away a weight lifts from my shoulders. I know we’ve become closer over the past few months, but holding her like this is rare. I rub her back softly and feel her tears soak through my nicest shirt. I don’t care though, because any part of her is beautiful and welcome.

  Too soon, an angry Mr. Coleman breaks the moment as he clears his throat. Looking up at him I realize they’ve been watching us the whole time. I hope they don’t mind me holding their daughter like this, but then again they do think we slept together. I regret my last thought because I don’t want Jazz to feel me harden below the waist. The last thing I need is for her to think I’m some kind of sick pervert who gets off on girls crying … or their mothers.

  “Son, I can see you care for our daughter. It’s very apparent. However, do you realize the responsibility and time it takes to raise a child?”

  Jazz lifts her head and turns to face them. “Daddy, I can do this.”

  “We,” I correct her without pause. She turns her glassy blue eyes in my direction for confirmation. Praying she doesn’t tell them the truth, I give a subtle nod of my head. I exhale when she turns her attention back to them to continue.

  “We can do this. Jax and Tru are getting an apartment and I’ll just look for one close by. The campus has a day care, so when I return next fall for classes I’ll be able to enroll the baby.” She lets go of me and stands up to straighten her spine. I know this means her mind is made up, and I love how stubborn she can be … sometimes. “I’ve been thinking about this since I found out and I know I … sorry … we can and will do this.” She scrunches her button nose and nods her head firmly to make her point.

  I stand up and grab her hand to show her and them my support. When she smiles at me and squeezes my hand, my heartbeat picks up from the contentment I feel from that small touch.

  “I had no idea you two were dating. Do you plan on getting married?” Clara asks this and I don’t know how to answer.

  The air rushes from my lungs with surprise from the question. As much as I want to be dating Jazz, I don’t want her to feel obligated to date me because of the situation. But it would be awesome. Not going to lie.

  “No and No. We’re just really good friends who let things get out of hand one night,” Jazz says in a rush. The kick in my stomach mixed with disappointment has me wanting to bend over. She looks up at me with a small smile. “However, you never know what the future holds.”

  Mr. Coleman runs his hands through his hair and leaves it in disarray. “I guess we just deal with it and wait.” He looks at Jazz and then me with stern eyes. “I know how stubborn my daughter can be. If she’s determined to do this all on her own, she will. So if you want to be a part of her life then don’t mess up. Got it?”

  “Ye
s, sir.”

  Her parents hug her before they make their exit. When we’re finally left alone I feel at a total loss for my next move. I mean I’ve barely touched her and now everyone thinks we had sex. I can feel my panic rising with the situation. Wanting to feel calm again, I turn in her direction to gauge her reaction.

  After a few seconds of staring at the door and tapping her foot, she finally puts those beautiful sky blue eyes on me. Knowing that I did it for her makes sense. I’d do anything for her. Then I see the anger emanating from their depths and notice her lips press into a thin line.

  “What the hell, Mason?” She shoves me back so hard I lose my balance. Luckily, the ugly blue couch is there to save my boney ass.

  She stomps her foot and her eyes start to glisten again. I hate that it’s me that’s causing her to cry. “Are you flippin’ crazy? What are you thinking? I thought you were a genius or something. Not a moron.”

  Anger morphs into sadness and she sits beside me. Her body starts to shake while she cries, so I pull her toward me again. It just seems like she belongs there. That’s the only reason I can come up with when I ask myself why I just ruined a good friendship. It’s worth it, though, if I can be with her.

  How do I explain my actions without sounding like an obsessed psycho? I should just try to come as close to the truth as I can. “Seeing how scared you looked downstairs while everyone just watched ... I just reacted. I don’t like seeing you like that. It’s not you.” That wasn’t so bad. Not false but not the whole truth.

  Breathing in deep, she pulls away from my body, instantly taking the warmth that flows through me whenever we touch. Geez, I can be such a bitch sometimes. I’m glad the guys can’t hear my thoughts. I wonder if Jax has these contemplations of Tru or is it because I grew up in a house full of estrogen that causes me to be a pussy sometimes.

  “I just don’t get you sometimes.” She leans back and sighs while resting her head on the back of the couch. When her head turns to face me, our eyes collide. “One minute you’re looking at me like I have two heads and you’re going to run. Then you grab my hand and tell everyone that you knocked me up. Who does that Mason?” Silence descends while our thoughts take over. Did I want to run? No. Not from her, but from the situation.