by Brannon, M.
I roll my eyes and choose to ignore his crude comment. “She’s in the backyard sun tanning.”
“Holy. Shit! Is she wearing a bikini? So help me God, that woman is going to fucking kill me. She’s so fucking hot. It’s too bad she drives me so fucking insane every time she speaks.” I nod to Jake and then shake my head.
He moves over to the cupboard and pulls out a gallon-sized pitcher, filling it with cold water and chuckling to himself the whole time.
“You know you’re asking for it.” He is completely crazy right now. Delilah is going to snatch his head off the minute she gets her hands on him. One thing I’ve learned about that woman, as polite as she may seem, she has a streak of meanness lurking inside her. I would never want to get on her bad side.
“Yeah, that’s the point, brother.” Jake opens the back door, causing a wave of summer heat to hit me. He leans over the deck and holds the pitcher of cold water over the rail, getting his aim just right before he tips it over, soaking Delilah instantly. A shrill scream passes through the air.
“I’m going to kill you!” Delilah screams as she jumps from the lounger and starts flying up the back steps. Jake is standing on the deck, laughing his ass off, when Delilah reaches him then starts beating him with the magazine she was reading. “I just hate you, Jake Evans!”
Delilah makes her way past Jake now and into the kitchen with one purpose, and that’s payback. Once the sink turns on, I take that as my cue to get the hell out and go find my love.
I round the corner and open up the door, but she’s not there. I pull out my cell phone and shoot her a text.
Me: Hey, where are you at?
Presley: Home
Instantly, I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and decide to search the house. Jake now has Delilah screaming like a girl in the backyard, squirting her with a hose. I immediately notice Presley is nowhere to be found. Why would she lie to me?
As I walk back into my room to grab my phone I notice something sticking out from under the dresser. I bend down and pull the blue box from underneath the dresser. It’s a home pregnancy test. My stomach instantly drops to my feet. Is she pregnant? No fucking wonder she’s been so sick. I tip the box over and the white stick falls out confirming my suspicion.
Why wouldn’t she tell me about this?
I try to call her cell phone, but her voicemail instantly picks up. I am growing increasingly nervous and annoyed all at the same time. In the last few minutes I just found out that Presley has been lying to me and now she’s hiding things from me. The more I let my mind absorb these thoughts my anxiety grows into anger. How could she keep this from me? And worse yet, why has she been lying to me every day? We’ve always been completely honest with one another and this is the last thing I expected from her. I crunch the box in my hand, squeezing it as hard as I can. I need answers and I need them now.
Before I let my mind run away with too many conclusions, I need to find out where she’s at and there’s only one person who knows. Delilah.
I storm out to the kitchen, crushed box still in my hand and notice she’s sitting on the counter in some deep conversation with Jake. They’re both soaking wet and she’s finally covered up with a beach towel. Jake’s face is close to hers and his hands have her trapped against the cupboard. It appears they are having another heated conversation because of the stone cold look written all over his face. I feel like I’m interrupting something, but right now, I don’t really care.
Delilah’s eyes meet mine then the box in my hand and then back to my eyes. I can immediately tell she’s known about Presley’s pregnancy for awhile and has been lying to me, just like Presley has; the betrayal is written all over her face.
“Where is she?” The rage is searing my insides and I can feel it traveling to my limbs, causing them to shake. Delilah looks to Jake then back to me, but says nothing. “Where the fuck is she, Delilah? And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about because I’m about to lose it!”
Jake pushes away from Delilah, but says nothing. He is also looking at her with an accusatory eye.
“Drake, please, you have to calm down.” Her southern accent is shaky yet calm, but it does nothing to ease my anger.
“How long did you know about this?” I seethe.
“What?” Delilah tries to evade the question, but I don’t allow it. I throw the box holding the pregnancy test at her and she startles as it smacks her in the arm.
“What the fuck, Drake?” Jake shouts in protest to my actions, but then soon realizes what we are talking about.
“Don’t! Don’t you dare act like you know nothing about this.” I can feel my body start to really lose it as I begin to walk toward Delilah. Her eyes are drenched and she is starting to tremble as she quickly picks up on how angry I am. I’ve got the sickest feeling growing in my gut as my mind is telling me where Presley could be, but my heart doesn’t want to believe it. Closing the gap between us, I grab a hold of Delilah’s arms to lightly shake her. I know she knows, however I need to hear it from her. “Where is she?” I scream in her face.
Jake swiftly moves behind me and grabs my shoulders, releasing the hold on Delilah’s arms. He stands in front of me then pushes my chest, positioning his body between us. Jake stands about four inches shorter than me, but he’s an experienced fighter. He knows I would never hurt her, but my actions are not proving it at this moment.
“Back the fuck off, Drake!” Jake yells.
Delilah hops off the counter, clasping tightly to her towel she moves toward Jake’s back as he continues to stand between the two of us. “I’m sorry, Drake. I practically begged her to tell you, but she was afraid you would leave her. Look,I know she’s had problems since she’s lived here, but you don’t understand, she’s had issues handling change her whole life. This was too much for her and—”
“And what?” I scream. I don’t want to hear another excuse come out of her mouth. “Just fucking tell me!” I push my body against Jake’s hands while he continues trying to keep me from getting closer to Delilah. “What has she done?”
Delilah looks down at her feet and begins to sob uncontrollably then sinks to her feet, tucking herself in a ball on the floor. “She left for the clinic, Drake.”
I’ve heard enough. I push Jake away from me and fly out the back door. The glass in the screen door cracks as it slams against the rail of the deck. I keep moving, though, not giving it a second thought. I can’t believe she’s going to do this without telling me.
I climb into the Chevelle and floor the car down the driveway. When I make it out to the main highway I slam my foot down and propel my car faster. The roar of the engine is humming loudly when I tear my way through the streets. I hope I can get to her in time; before she makes the biggest mistake of her life.
Presley
It’s been two weeks since I found out I was pregnant. Delilah has been trying to help me make the right decision, practically insisting I tell Drake so we can make this choice together, but with him, there would be no choice. He would want me to have the baby. I’ve known from the day I found out what my plan was going to be, however I was living under false pretenses to keep Delilah off my back. I can’t have this baby. Some people were born mothers—nurturing and protective—but that has never been me. I am always the one who needs the nurturing and protection. I’m too weak to care for myself. I could never do it for a child.
I called the clinic and scheduled my appointment six days ago. When I spoke to the nurse at the clinic she instructed me it would cost one thousand dollars without insurance and I should have someone accompany me to see that I make it home. She explained how the sedatives used will still be lingering in my system, but to be honest, I was hung up on trying to think of how I could get home unseen and how I was going to replace Drake’s money before he notices.
I know I promised Delilah I would tell her what my decision was, but I lied. I’ve known her since the age of six. She would do anything in her power to prev
ent me from going through with it, and that includes telling Drake. I can’t risk it. Drake can never know I was pregnant. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can move back into the ignorant bliss I had before this mess.
I couldn’t sleep last night. Drake’s alarm sounded at five in the morning and I was still awake from the night before. My mind has been on overdrive, flooding me with guilt while I lay next to the only lifeline I’ve ever had. Something in the back of my head kept telling me that my lifeline could soon be cut short. The internal battle inside my head was fueled with energy drinks, preventing me from sleeping my feelings away.
To make things worse, Drake was unconsciously clinging to me, holding me so tight the entire night. Frequently, he placed kisses to my shoulder and the back of my neck. I pretended I was sound asleep, yet I was anything but. Finally, after he left for work, I managed to close my eyes and drift off for a few hours, losing my battle with exhaustion.
Now, here I am, simply sitting on the edge of the bed, watching time tick away. I agreed to the first available appointment they had and instantly regret the time I chose. It’s agonizing waiting all afternoon to commit the ultimate sin against everyone I love. I’m questioning my decision. Then, I allow the numbness to take over. I can’t let myself feel anything right now, especially guilt. I have to shut everything off.
I close my eyes and take deep breaths in and out, allowing the pent up feelings to escape my body then my mind goes dead. I watch the blackness of my deception fade to gray and eventually evaporate into nothing. My mind goes blank and I transform into robot mode.
Once the clock rolls to noon, I move to my dresser, pulling out a pair of black denim shorts, underwear and a black t-shirt. I open the safe in the closest and count out one thousand dollars then stuff the money into my purse. Drake has been saving his hard-earned money for a year in hopes of moving out into our own place, but it looks like I will put that on hold a little longer. Unless I can replace it fast. My mind starts to question how I can get away with Drake not noticing the money missing before my numbness shuts it down. Not now! I say to no one. Think about that later.
I emerge from the bedroom, walking with conviction while I remain emotionless. I quickly make my way down the hall, turn on the shower to scalding and stand under the water. Then, like a well executed robbery, my mind begins to plan the next phase of my treachery. I duck my face under the hot water and start calculating schedules in my head.
Drake texted me this morning informing he won’t be home until after supper, Delilah will be getting back soon from her internship—within forty-five minutes—Reggie and Darcie already left for the bar, who knows about Jeremy— I never see him anyways—and Jake is probably still in a dead sleep. It will only take me twenty minutes to get ready and another ten to walk to the bus stop. The ride to the clinic will take approximately ten minutes and my appointment is at one fifteen. I should get there in plenty of time.
I’m pleased I can leave the house going completely unnoticed. With my plan of attack in place, I quickly scrub my body and hair then rinse the suds off me. My hand trembles as I turn to shut the water off. Stop it! I shout inside my head, taking more deep breaths, numbing my guilt once again. This is my only chance to save me from dying and protecting my only sanity in this world, the relationship I have with Drake.
Once I’m dressed, I rake a comb through my hair and pile it in a bun on top of my head. The once glimmer in my eyes is gone, they’re vacant, and my skin is ghostly as I stare at myself in the mirror. The dark purple circles are pooled under my eyes and the limited sleep I got the night before only accentuates their color. I don’t look any different than the days before, yet today I really notice how sickly my appearance is. No wonder Drake has been so insistent I go to the doctor. I look like shit.
Pulling my make-up bag from the drawer, I put on some concealer in an attempt to mask my hideous dark circles. Next, I rub foundation and powder across my skin followed by a dab of blush to add color to my cheeks.
I walk back to my room, throw my dirty clothes in the basket and pull my purse over my shoulder so it lies across my body. As I round the corner, Delilah comes marching through the door, cheeks flushed from the heat. She’s looking like the perfect southern lady; wearing a knee length, khaki pencil skirt and a lavender, button-up blouse. Her long, blonde hair is flowing down her back, and she’s absolutely beautiful. Then my stomach sinks to my feet. She’s home thirty minutes early and is not suppose to see me walk out the door.
“Hey girl, you look nice. Where are you off to?” Delilah asks while setting her purse on the table.
“Umm…I…”I stammer as my brain goes blank. “…errands.” I look down at my hands then at the time on my cell phone. “I have errands to run.”
“Presley?” Delilah’s voice is motherly and accusing all at the same time. Then her face falls and I know instantly Delilah doesn’t buy my excuse because she knows exactly what I’m about to do.
I can’t stay here another minute.
“I have to go.” I start to push past her, but Delilah grabs onto my arm, stopping me from moving forward. Her eyes are filling with tears. They start to pool and spill down her cheeks as she squeezes my arm, however I feel nothing. The numbing feeling still exists in my body and I need it to stay. I can’t afford to feel anything now.
“Please… don’t do this. Don’t do something you’ll regret.” Her voice is pleading, her hand refusing to let go of my arm.
I look her square in the eyes and as coldly as possible, I retort, “Delilah, you promised no matter what happened you wouldn’t tell Drake. I’ve made my decision and there is nothing you can do to change my mind. You know…you’re the only person I can count on now. Please don’t betray me or our friendship.” I yank my arm from her hold, run down the back steps and keep moving myself forward until I am out of view of our house.
I manage to make it to the bus stop just as it’s pulling up to the curb. There are only few people riding it, so I sit in the first empty seat I can find which is right behind the driver. He’s an overweight man with a large belly and hairy arms. His wire frames are thin and the lenses are tinted from the sun shining through the window. The humidity of the air chokes my lungs with every breath I take, the overwhelming smell of BO lingers, remaining stagnant in the air.
Fishing through my purse, I grab a hold of my iPod and put the ear buds in my ears, withdrawing myself from having any conversation with anyone. When the music starts, “Broken” by Seether and Amy Lee starts blasting in my ears, and I start to dissect the lyrics. I can’t help thinking of Drake’s and my relationship. Right now, we are at a crossroads, that metaphoric fork in the road, and the decision I make today will either save us…save me or be the demise of our relationship and the demise of my soul. I have to survive my decision to keep the reason I breathe in my life. If he ever found out what I’m about to do, then we’ll be done. The pieces of our relationship will be left to the winds, scattered amongst the garbage filled gutters and bums.
Just as predicted, ten minutes later the bus pulls to the curb one block away from the clinic. The air is thick from the heat, making me sweat within seconds. When I turn the corner around an old abandoned restaurant the clinic comes into view. The brick building sits on the end of the strip with other empty store fronts attached to the structure.
I pull open the glass door and step inside. The cool air brushes my hot skin and it smells sterile from cleanser. To the right is the waiting room with almost every hard plastic chair filled with a body while the TV hanging in the corner displays The Weather Channel’s scoop of the most recent summer storm.
I move forward to the glass partition and observe that the set up is similar to a drive thru window at a bank. The receptionist pushes a button to hear me speak and I give my name and appointment time while looking at the stainless steel speaker wedged into the glass. She taps on the keyboard and retrieves papers from the printer. Next, she secures them to a clipboard using the automated drawe
r to send the clipboard out. The steel is cool as it brushes against my waist.
I pull the papers from the drawer and find a seat amongst everyone else. Robotically, I fill out form after form then take them back up to the receptionist. She tells me I will go through the counseling process first with a nurse and she will advise me what will happen from there.
I sit back down in the hard plastic chair and try to turn off my thoughts. Pictures of landscapes cover the walls and out-dated magazine issues are scattered over the side tables. When I look around at the people waiting I notice quickly everyone seems to have someone with them. Young girls, probably still in high school or younger with their mothers, women close to my age with their boyfriends, and other girls with what I assume is a best friend or maybe a sister. Some of the women are crying, others are staring mindlessly at the TV, and others are laughing quietly to their friend. I start feeling over whelmed; start thinking it was a mistake not to ask Delilah to come with me. Then, the reality of the situation crashes into me and I know there is no way in hell Delilah would have supported me in this.
My knee is bouncing up and down as my sensitive stomach starts to churn from the anxiety of what I’m about to do. I can feel the burn of the bile in the deepest part of my throat, but I swallow it down. Before I can let my mind race even more, the large wooden door leading to the back is opened up and a very thin, older woman is holding it open.
She has a folder in her hands, examining it as everyone in the waiting room stares at her. Her brownish-gray hair is secured in a ponytail behind her head and she has glasses fastened at the end of her nose. The nurse is wearing purple scrubs with a stethoscope slung around her neck and white clog type shoes. Her voice is gravelly as she announces my name, and when I get closer, I notice she has wrinkles around her mouth and eyes as well as the faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering from her clothing.