Carl and I have never been intimate. I haven’t even kissed him. Not yet, anyway. I know with the way things are going I’m going to have to…yuck…consummate our union? But how can I, when in my womb there lay the child of the only man I have ever slept with, or fallen for? What do I even say to dad about this? Who can I talk to? Can I even live with myself if Carl becomes the father of this child?
Fuck no. I have to call him, I have to try making amends with him, and even when he left me for dead with the cruelest man I know. I stop by the bridge and fumble through my leather for that phone. I dial up his number, and…pause.
Ever since he broke up with me, or at least tried to hurt my feelings by using my heart against me, I have never tried to talk to him. All this time and I have kept to myself, holding on and waiting for something golden to happen. A change of heart maybe? Or even a surprise call. And then it turns out I’ve been pregnant all this while, with his child.
He hates me, and he never wants to do anything with me again. I get that, but then when I mull it over, I don’t. The reason for him to leave me be has never been clear. It was only words that I saw, words that smote everything that was, and everything that ever will be.
But he is still the father of my child.
I call him.
It beeps for a long second before I’m cut off. His line is disconnected. No, it’s more of my number being blocked from his cell. Spencer is truly gone and done with us, with me, and there is nothing I can do about it.
The one thing standing in the way of me throwing myself off the edge of this bridge and into the river below, the dry river bed that’s pulsing with rocks jagged and smooth, is the beating heart inside me that is not my own. I walk home resolved, knowing what I will say, but unsure of the reception.
“I see you’re back,’ he coolly spits, waiting on me with his back on the wall. “Where would you be headed to in such a time of morning, young lady? Do you not understand how irrational the beast out there are, and how fair a prey you are to them? I swear I don’t know what runs in that silly little mind of y-”
“I’m pregnant dad.”
My hands are in my pockets, my feet apart. I need this show of strength now more than ever. He needs to know that my decision is final, and no amount of money is going to sway me. I don’t care what he says after, but he has to understand that there is no turning back.
“And I’m keeping the baby.”
He leans stubbornly on the wall, and grabs a chair to ease the weight of the words that have just been thrust upon him. The fact is straight, and he knows this is beyond his control. For one moment, I can get to see his human side. Just this once at the very least, I can see him not have his hand played. It does not comfort me one bit.
“Is it…his?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m going to bear it as your only daughter.” He lingers his eye on my feet, and nods with his face. “Spencer is done with me, and I get that, I think I do at least. He showed me kindness where you did not, and gave me a chance to live as a young girl should live- care free and happy. You did your part too, and are still doing it and I respect you as my father with bearing all the responsibility and crap I have had to offer back to you. But one thing you must try to understand is that this child is an innocent. It has not done any wrong to anyone; not to me, nor you, nor Spencer, nor the entire planet. It’s a symbol of what was good, dad. What was good between Spencer and I. I didn’t think I could have been pregnant for these couple of months, but I just had to be sure today. It’s why I ran out so early. You wouldn’t have listened to me either way.
There is no way I’m getting rid of this gem. I am young and have no experience in the real world, but I beg of you to stand by me in this. We don’t see eye to eye, but we can try on this.”
I walk towards him, and he shudders. I am filth in his eyes, I can tell.
“Dad, you’re going to be a grandfather. Isn’t that something worth shelving off your pride for?”
I hit him where it’s soft. I just have to make him agree to it, knowing that even in my heat, there is no way I am giving up Spencer’s baby. This baby is my only link to the happiest times of my life. Why would I give them up, all those memories? Only a fool would do such a thing. I am angry, I am alone, I am going to be a mom, but I am not that crazy.
“Jasmine, your life will be hard living as a single unwed mother. How many men out there do you think would agree to be with you, after they realize that you already have a child?”
It’s a problem in today’s world of course, this much I know, but I can try to be something more. I don’t have to be someone’s squeeze to move forward and progress, and make something out of my life. I make this point, and he laughs, hard.
“Open your eyes, girl. When ever did this world become your oyster? Do you think that even with your looks you will ever go so far that no man will stand in your way? Stop embarrassing me and wake up! You are a woman, and you can never change that fact. Men will look down at you like a filth-ridden rag, and you won’t be able to do squat about it. You need a man, a man who can fend for you in times like these. Spencer is out of the equation of course, and we know who I’m proposing.”
I sink on the lower staircase and quietly sulk. There is no winning.
“You want me to marry Carl? He doesn’t even like me. We’ve only gone out twice, and on both times he’s been queer and weird with me and-”
“Enough whining Jasmine. Do you want my help or not?”
“But dad, an arranged marriage isn’t based on the truest of qualities. He doesn’t love me, and neither do I. All he sees in me is…something of a play doll.”
“Don’t talk about your future husband like that, like he has no hold over his life like you. Need I remind you that Carl Glenn deals in the oil industry, and is one of the first young entrepreneurs to ever venture into the Middle East and come back with friends? That man can do more than you could in twelve lifetimes, without batting an eye or getting pregnant. I don’t care for your silly little emotions that you so desperately cling to. We both know by now that boy just used you for sex and my money-”
“He did not! Don’t talk about him like that,” I fiercely defend. My fist is clenched round one of the wooden poles decorating the stairs. He left me, but his honor lies in my womb still.
“Fine, where is the father of your baby then, to defend himself? Is he outside, shoveling the leaves? Or perhaps in the kitchen, making you a soufflé and ordering baby clothes online. I think he must be on the roof, fixing our shingles and making sure the pipes aren’t leaking. Oh, wait…”
Fucking reality. I hate it when his face models itself into truth. I sit back down and loosen my grip on the wood. I never win with him, even when I need to.
“Good, you’re seeing it. The inner Turner in you is birthing. Now, I have to set up a meeting with Carl and his father to talk about the wedding arrangements. He obviously pays for all of it, you being the bride and all. I’ll need you to start walking through catalogs of proper wedding dresses that will not show your belly. Don’t think I haven’t noticed it. I had my doubts when you started throwing up at midnight after dinner.”
Crap.
“Will he agree to marry me? Do you think he really will?” I ask, weary of the steps he’s taking.
“You have no idea how powerful money can be. It can do what most people would call magic or miracles, especially for a man such as him. He will agree to it, of course, have you seen your face?”
I don’t think it would be wise to take it as a complement. He’s always scheming, trying to hide his real intentions. I really can’t see the man my mother fell in love with. He must be dead under all this ego and manipulative skin.
“But dad, an arranged marriage is far beyond what you could ever do. I thought that they were to be built on love, a solid foundation of trust and harmony that doesn’t rely on money or valuables. I don’t think this will w
ork at all, as much as you want it to.”
“Jasmine, I need you to listen; this is the last time I’m saying this. Arranged marriages have been in society for the better part of thousands of years. They have been tools used to foster peace and tranquility among many a people. Without it, many traditions would have collapsed, many names fallen, and all the wars you have never heard of happened. Carl Glenn is a tool I want to use for the benefit of my business. His resources outweigh mine, and I want that for the future of your baby, do you understand? When your child takes up the Glenn-Turner family business, you will look back and not regret having made this decision now. Your child is the future of our family name, and you want to throw it all out of the window for some senseless teen in college who left you for nothing? Think Jasmine, and open your eyes to the possibility of all the money in the world that you could possibly ever want. Don’t you want that for your baby?”
When he opens his mouth to talk, I feel the devil in the details. I can’t disagree with him, for now in his mind he knows the matter is settled. It’s a done deal of course, and I just have to follow his bidding. My voice, the voice of a woman, that which has been silenced for millennia all over the globe, this day has joined the void.
“And if I say no?”
He shuffles his feet, and purses his lips in a whistle-like manner.
“Then I have to wish you the very best in your life as Jasmine, the daughter who was. I cannot be a part of your life if all you do is question my authority and deny me the chance to pave the path clearly for you. If all you see is love for your future, then you are a fool. And I can never be related to a fool. I would rather die lonely and childless.
But if you want my help in this, for I know how hard it will be in the coming days, you have to agree to what I am asking of you. You must marry Carl and be his wife till death do you part, and you will have to provide for him and submit to his will as your husband. When you agree to my terms, then and only then can I be your father. And that is my final answer. It’s your choice.”
I get up, carefully, and stumble to my room. He waits downstairs, hoping that I don’t fall off or try to run through a meat grinder. I can’t do anything rash of course, but I suppose this is it.
My life is in his hands, and there is no say on the matter. Well, there’s his, but who am I to argue with the wisdom of the all mighty Harvey Turner? The man who knows all about the world more than the nature that created it, the male that feels more dominant than any other female in his presence, the father I chose not to be his daughter. I hate myself, I hate him, but anyone who can see this situation, if there is a God out there, then he, just like all the other males, knows I can’t get out of this.
The life of a woman in this existence is cold, and heartless. We have to work twice as hard, more than our backs can take, and still get less in reward. Then they still expect us to smile, and laugh, and be there to suck their cocks when the tiny little pricks warm up to the occasion. What is this, which I care to be, that I care to dream I will become when I am a little girl? Is this how it ends for the woman, in a pit of disgust, followed by the irrational fear of never getting the next meal because a man said no? If only men could see beyond the genitals, beyond the pussy and beyond the curves. They only see what they want to squeeze, what the need to take them back to their childhoods to when things were happy and simple. But me, the womankind, the ones who ensure the civilizations, as dad so quaintly put it, are the metal to the socket, the pillars of it all, the anchor to the lost souls. We are mothers for crying out loud. They are only donors, nothing more.
He just had to leave me, didn’t he? With this man, these men, who would never consider me a person. He was the one link I had to a voice, to my voice. Everyone else took Spencer Winters for crap, be it in school of home, but with me, no one would dare stand against us. Even the teachers would rarely want us separated, with his charisma and gentle attitude towards tutoring me in math, and in the virtue of love.
But now, he is gone. I need to accept that. I need to know that my life is no longer shared, but owned by another. No, I need to understand this, and dress it formally. Even now as I stand by the doorway to my room and look down to the frame at the study, his face is one that needs an answer to his question. It is simple, and yet the most difficult thing I can ever fathom I can do. All I have to do is to say yes. Just a simple yes and all this will be over. All the hurt will be taken care of, all the simplicity in the details, all the fine print, will be gone and I will have nothing more to worry over. The one thing I can only focus on is my child, and it will have all the care and love I can possibly offer. There is not much that dad can rob me of; my will, my life, my joy. All these are his to play with of course, and I can do the one thing that will make this easier.
I nod. He walks into the kitchen, satisfied with his plans falling in.
My mind is mine, and so is my baby.
I think, as my boots fall off and my toes blister in the comforts of my sheets, of how Spencer is doing. I have no hate, no spite, and no hard feelings for him, owing to the fact that we have a shared joy right here inside of me. He might not want anything to do with me, or even his baby if he ever find out, but I can sleep over the fact that it is the last fragment I will ever have. It is way better than any photo we took, any kiss we slurped, any night we spent on this bed or on the beach.
My hands in your life, baby of mine. I wish your father could be here right now to sing to you. He always knows the right tune when it’s times like these. I think he would go for heavy rock and roll. I wouldn’t mind it at all. I want you to know something baby, that your dad loved your mommy very much, and that he does not know what he left behind. I am still here baby, and will forever try to be better than every other person on this earth, for you. I will provide for you and be your number one.
I just hope when the time comes, your daddy accepts you as much as I have. We can only hope, huh?
Chapter 9 - Spencer
“So, fries or coffee, love?”
“Huh?”
“Fries or coffee?”
“Sorry…umm, coffee?”
“With a side of bagels? Crusty with dusty cream on top?”
“Uh huh, just the way I like it Carol.”
“You got it, sugar.”
My luck is squeezed into her toned fingers, surging some life into the boring proceedings of the day. She’s been quite the gem of late, handling most of the customer orders while I wallow in the back in the guise of homework.
I’ve been back there, with the oil cans and rusty pans for friendship on my shifts, going over what to do with my life. I’ll be done with college soon enough, relatively, and I don’t think where my mind is at, that it would be wise to join the force.
Not just yet.
The semester kicked off ages ago, and school has never been duller. It’s the quiet time of the year, with the onset of the snow falling at the macabre sightings of snowflakes at the dreadful hours of the night.
The cafeteria is always crammed to the belly with enough students, piping for hot chocolate or coffee with a side of fries. I never know how that goes, but I suppose it keeps them moving onto the next. In here, the aircon is enough to warm my boots, but in me, I cannot find it that easy to push away the cold with the touch of a button.
Of course I think of her. How else would I be stuck in this rut? Nicole Harbinger smiles from the counter top, at me, hinting at an idea that she’s been pitching for weeks now with her passing glances and cheery hand touches.
“Hey Spencer,” she once started at the end of my shift, a few weeks ago. I was closing up, and beat. Carol had already gone home after successfully warding off a horny and rude bloke who grabbed her by the ass and kept shuffling his wallet in her face. His nose knows better by now, I suppose.
“Hi Nicole,” I replied, shifting my apron on the counter. The dishes were clean, and my ego slighted. She looked gorgeous, her parka tightly folded against her skin, giving no room for imagination on h
er bosom. Her lips, clean and glossy, emanated with the random light that touched her from high up in the magenta ceiling. It was just us in the wide space, and the distance slow and unbecoming.
I walked, slightly bouncing, toward her. She stood by the exit, waiting and smiling. It was twilight-like, a ghost of sorts her frame lay, but after almost five months of no contact from a woman, my body felt magnetized on her. “It’s kinda past 11. Shouldn’t you be back in beta phi?”
“Not really. You didn’t get to reply to my note in Professor Gleeman’s class. I was just worried you hadn’t gotten it.”
Oh, I did get it. It was in my pocket right then, folded neatly and kept safely for pondering on late into the night.
“It must have gotten lost. So many hands you know,” I fidgeted. She had a wry smile, her hands wringing independently, or by choice, behind her back.
“Okay Winters. I wanted to know…”
Her breath was by mine in an inch, and the solidity of her lips made it all the more overwhelming. It was the first kiss I had had in an age, and to be quite honest with myself, it felt good.
But…
“Nicole, what was your question again?” I asked, catching my breath from the watermelon flavored balm on those smooth layers. Her eyes held a glint of coyness, and her lips full of a shy passion. She was horny, and far beyond reasoning with.
“Spencer, will you walk me home? It’s, just as you said, dark and very late out.”
The snow had been building in intensity for sure, and by my logic it would be very unlike my code to let her walk all the way to beta phi at that hour. I jingled the set of keys in her face and laughed.
“Help me close up first?”
“Sure thing Winters.”
It was cold. The trees in the paths along us had let their hair loose unto the crumpling ground, unknowing of the abrasive sinking their roots would endure. Our arms were locked in embrace, and for the first time then, I was in a state of giddiness. There I was, with the smartest girl in class, the prodigy, as Professor Michaels gleefully put it when we ad experiment sessions together, and she was having the time of her night, gifting me the story of how she blew her nose and fragments of her cheeks away.
Triple Pass: An MFMM Reverse Harem Romance Page 42