by Pamela Ann
“I get that you’re hormonal and all, but don’t bite my head off. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just . . . I don’t know, I guess I’ve never done this before,” he murmurs, sullenly.
Wait, but wasn’t Shannon pregnant before? “You didn’t go with Shannon?”
He shakes his head. “She said it made her uncomfortable to have me in there with her. I had to do what I had to do to make her happy, I guess.” What he spouts out next is completely unexpected. “I guess, now that I think about it, I’m not sure that she was pregnant to begin with. I think Shannon used that so I would marry her.”
If I hadn’t met the woman, I would argue about this, but I have and the woman is wretched, delusional and off her rocker. So, yes, I do agree with Drake on this score. “Good thing that you two didn’t get hitched then. You should thank your lucky stars that I came in at the right moment and saved your sorry ass!”
Drake cocks his head and smiles at me. “Yeah, I do thank them . . . Every. Single. Day, Lil.”
I wet my lips and look away. I suppose living with Shannon was one giant ball of nightmare. Yeah, he should be thanking those stars.
I’m more than thankful when they call out my name. We’re ushered into a semi-dark room where the female doctor is kind enough to point out everything for us. Drake has tons of questions. The experience is definitely amazing. Our child is a puny thing on that screen, but I already love it with all of my heart.
After thirty minutes or so, we are driving back to my house. “That was totally crazy, don’t you think?” Drake says much to himself, still amazed from the experience.
“Yeah, it was awesome to see it like that,” I murmur. My thoughts are somewhere else.
I want to be detached from Drake, but he’s making it impossible. I expect him to drop me off once we get to my house, but he follows me inside.
Since my plan was to ignore him, I go upstairs and shut my bedroom door. After a few minutes, I hear him knock.
“Lil?”
I groan. “What?”
“Can I come in?” he asks as he opens the door. “I just wanted to talk.”
More talking, great. “Anything important?”
Drake pauses and sits on the foot of my bed. He waits a few more seconds before he starts, “Ever since the day we were born, we were meant for this. We were meant for each other, but it was my cowardice that made the journey a hell as I tried to fight it tooth and nail.”
Damn, that admission from him hurts. He really doesn’t want me. “Exactly, Drake, that’s my point right there.”
He huffs and gets up pacing, ending up leaning against the wall. “I was a total moron. It was a selfish thing to do, but at that age, it meant commitment and marriage would follow after you’d finished college. Our parents wouldn’t have let us date without pushing us in that direction. I didn’t want that. I wasn’t ready for that, but I am now, Lily. If you just give me another chance. I do want you and the baby.”
I sit up on the bed. “You are going to be a part of his or her life. I’m not going to take that from you.”
“Yeah, but I want it all, with you included, as a family unit. Together.”
Damn it. Fine. “I’ll think about it. That’s all I can tell you at the moment.”
Drake comes over and kisses my forehead. “Thank you. I will work hard to earn your trust. I promise you that.” He leaves after he gives me a beaming smile.
I wake up the next day and find a note on the kitchen counter underneath a big vase of calla lilies along with a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs and a fruit bowl.
I just wanted to do something nice for you and the baby. I’ll be thinking of you.
I smile like an idiot after reading it. I’m lucky enough that I don’t have any morning sickness. Although I do get dizzy spells here and there, it isn’t all that serious. I’ll take dizzy spells anytime over vomiting my guts out.
From then on, I receive breakfast and different type of lilies on a daily basis. I spend most of my time reading baby books about what I should be expecting. Most days, I’m online checking out baby room designs and themes. Yeah, I’m ecstatic to be a mom and with Drake’s breakfast redemption strategy, I am close to just getting over it and giving us both a fair shot.
After a week, I expect my day to go on like the usual, but something jolts me out of bed. I suppose it’s my growling tummy or just my senses are piqued . . .
In my soft cotton night dress, I groggily make my way downstairs, yawning. I pause when I see Drake in the kitchen cooking. When he feels my presence, he smiles and greets me. “Good morning, Baby Momma. Hungry?”
Very much, yes, I’m so hungry for you. He looks so delicious whistling and cooking in my kitchen, I want him for breakfast. Instead, my sanity snaps me back from dreamland and pushes me forward to get some juice.
“Just go sit. I’ve got you covered. Today’s your day to be lazy. I’m at your service.” He points at my breakfast nook and quickly places a glass of orange juice on the table.
“Thank you.” When I take a refreshing sip, I notice that it’s fresh squeezed juice. “This is delicious. Where did you buy this?” I want to get more.
“I bought the oranges at Whole Foods, but squeezed them myself. You have more in the fridge, Babe.”
I blink a few times. The thought of Drake squeezing oranges makes me hornier than I was originally. What is wrong with me today? I’m just a huge hornball. “Thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you,” I thank him, though I’m a little uncomfortable about where my thoughts are leading.
Drake places pancakes, a Mexican omelet, fresh honeydew slices and strawberries before me. He then slides in the opposite side of the table, folding his arms and looks at me. “You know I’d do anything for you, right? Now go eat and feed my baby, woman.”
I smile and chuck a strawberry at him—which he catches and sexily bites into. The pink juices of the fruit sit deliciously on his lips. Honey drops, I think as my eyes glue on to them, hungrily. When his tongue juts out and licks the residue, I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning at the very sight of his pink tongue snaking out. I imagine all sorts of naughty things accompanying that tongue of his.
Drake groans and gets up from his seat. “Come here,” he throatily whispers. When I get close to him, he kisses me passionately and I have a hard time breathing in between his kisses.
It doesn’t take long for me to hook my arms around his neck, and when he lifts me up and places me on top of the table, his hands hastily push the dishes aside. Biting his bottom lip, my hands seek out the edge of his shirt and pull it out of his pants. The sight of his hard-toned body sends me into a delicious, sexual hysteric.
“I want you,” I whisper against his left nipple before my tongue licks it and my teeth bite into it. Drake hisses as his hands reach out for my thin night wear and swiftly pulls it off my body. My stomach is still fairly flat, but you can faintly see a slight bump if you stare hard enough.
Drake steps back a little bit as his eyes voraciously caress my body from my toes up. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Our eyes connect; his are full of desire and mine are desperate. He takes a step forward and seizes my lips again, but this time, I have no intention of stopping. My hands immediately go to his jeans and unlatch them. I pull down his underwear with his pants in an instant as I greedily capture his hot length.
“Shit, slow down,” Drake hisses.
No way, Jose, not in this lifetime, I think lasciviously.
When my grip goes tighter around him, Drake shifts the power and takes charge. He has me out of my panties in a heartbeat. I barely have time to blink before his fingers delve inside my wet folds. Being pregnant makes everything so sensitized and arousing. Each stroke takes me a step closer to Nirvana. I can’t hold back what my body wants and I want everything from him. I plant my hands behind me as I lean backward. His other hand spreads my legs wider while I watch Drake’s tongue descend on me while his silver eyes have me suspended.<
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Everything becomes hazy after that as Drake makes love to me all day long.
“Drake, will you call me back? You said you wanted to go to the movies. If you’ve changed your mind then say so! You’re over an hour late. You know what? Forget it. I’d rather stay home because I am that angry. Yes, so angry in fact, I could murder you right now. Bye.” I huff again and plop down on my couch.
It is already six-thirty when my stomach growls in protest. I get up and head to the kitchen to prepare a chicken sandwich. I’m halfway through my meal when I hear Mom knock and enter my home. “Lily?”
“I’m in the kitchen, Mom.” I gulp down half of my apple juice when she strides toward me. I’m instantly caught off guard when my mom doesn’t have a sunny smile to greet me. Instead, she looks worried and teary.
I still. My mind is going into panic mode and my heart pounds madly against my ribcage. “Mom? What’s going on?” I whisper when I watch her halt midway.
She starts crying. The sight of her crying makes me frightened and worried. Whatever this is, it’s serious. I rush to her side and try to calm her. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Mom starts sobbing even harder.
Sorry for what? “What about, Mom? Please, you’re killing me here. Tell me.”
“Pat and Hugh just got a call thirty minutes ago telling them that Drake was in an eight-car accident. He’s in the hospital right now, but it doesn’t look too good.”
I let go of her as I stare at her in disbelief. “No. No. We were supposed to go watch movies tonight. I was waiting for him . . .” I trail off as the horror of what she told me hits me as I watch her cry some more.
Drake . . . in an accident . . . doesn’t look too good. Meaning he could die . . . his chances aren’t too good.
Tears gather in my eyes as I drop to the floor holding my stomach. What do I do if he dies? What about our baby? Our baby will grow up without a father. A life without Drake . . . I won’t accept it. Drake has to fight to get better. He can’t leave me here alone and pregnant.
Shaking, I speak. “Mom, do you mind taking me to him? I need to see him.”
My mom nods and guides me out the door. Everything is a blur until we get outside the hospital. Then, it becomes all too clear to me. Drake is inside, possibly dying. I’m a wreck when Mom and I reach Patricia and Hugh in the waiting room right outside the OR. Both of them come to me and hug me tightly. Patricia is sobbing uncontrollably. Hugh is tearing up.
“He’s in the operating room right now. He hit his head pretty badly during impact. There was some bleeding on his brain and a broken knee. The doctor said he’ll let us know if there is any update,” Hugh says through tears.
Mom helps me to the nearest chair and all four of us sit there vigilantly while we listen to Patricia cry.
“Please don’t take my baby from me,” Patricia keeps muttering and praying.
I get up then and decide to seek out the hospital Chapel. When Mom offers to come, I decline. I want to be alone.
As I sit on one of the wooden benches, I feel the eerie peace greet me. The Crucifix situated before me has two tiny lights focused on it. As I look at it, I feel sadness wash over me.
I remember the last time I prayed desperately. That was when Dad was in the operating room. Dad had stage-four liver cancer. At that point, the doctor was telling us that he might not survive it and that we should prepare ourselves for the operation possibly not being successful. However, I was hopeful. My father was a robust man and a stubborn one. He skipped his doctor’s appointment and purposely missed his colonoscopy. Since he was a busy man, he thought that his daily intake of vitamins was his magic pill and nothing could ever touch him. Let alone a cancer. He was wrong, though. The cancer got to him all because he wanted to be oblivious to what was going on with his body.
If he had just addressed what he was feeling, then instead of shrugging and brushing it off, he might have had a chance to survive. I suppose, in some ways, we are our own worst enemy.
If I pray, will God grant me my prayer?
On my knees on the cushioned pedestal, I place my arms on the back of the wooded panel before me and clasp my hands. Closing my eyes, I pray.
“If you can grant me a wish, will you hear me this time? All my life, I pray only when it’s needed, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in you. Since Dad died, I’ve been bitter and I don’t want to be that person anymore. This baby is a miracle. I feel alive again, but it seems that it will come with a high price in exchange for Drake’s life. I beg you don’t make me have this baby alone. My baby needs its father. Give Drake and me a chance to be parents together. Give me a chance to tell him that I love him. I have never stopped and I don’t think I ever will. Drake took my heart and left with it. He never gave it back. Give me an even shot at happiness because without him, I don’t know what I’ll do. Help me. Please, help me. I need you to help me . . . Hear me, at least.”
Wiping my tears away, I sit back down again and hold my belly. “Your daddy’s fighting for his life right now. Let’s be strong for him,” I murmur to my belly.
I don’t know how long I sit there, staring blindly. I don’t even hear Mom come in.
“Lil, maybe it’s time to go home? You need to rest for the baby. You’ve been in here for two hours.”
Two hours? I’ve been staring for two hours?
I nod to my mom. “Let me just say goodbye to Patricia and Hugh. Maybe they have news about Drake.”
Mom holds me with one arm as we walk the white halls of the hospital. The intercoms are paging doctors, the beeping sounds of machines surround us, the hushed whispers and the crying relatives are the ambient background noise to the symphony about sickness and death.
My feet feel heavy, but I make it to the elevator. When we get out, I notice a doctor speaking to a family in a hushed solemn manner. I halt when I hear the woman scream.
“Noooooooooo! No! No! There’s got to be a way. You have to save my son! He’s only seventeen.”
I stand frozen as her screams and pleas are all being hushed down by her surrounding family. The daunting voices inside my head start again.
God, that voicemail I left him . . . I feel sick just thinking about it. Tears fall freely on my face. Drake . . . I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve let him down because of my own selfishness and holding on to the past, I have let us down and our baby.
What if it’s too late now? What if he doesn’t survive and dies on that operating table? My breathing becomes ragged as my thoughts move to picturing him on that table being cut open. His body pale and lifeless and there is nothing I can do to help him live.
Sobs rock through me as I sense my entire body start to feel weird and heavy. The last thing I remember is the airy light feel of my body falling before I black out.
23
I groan and feel my mom soothing me. It takes a good minute to remember all the events that have happened. Drake.
“How’s Drake? Where is he?”
“He’s in the ICU, Dear. He’s still not in the clear and they still consider him in critical condition. The doctor said to wait a few days for everything to heal and see if the surgery worked.”
When I try to move my hand and my heavy lids finally open, I realize that I’m in a hospital bed with a hospital gown on. “Mom?” I look at her questioningly. “What happened?”
“You passed out. Thank God I caught you before you hit your head on the floor. The doctor said that this sometimes happens when pregnant women are stressed out. You should stay put until the doctor says it’s okay for you to be discharged.” Mom looks at me worriedly, misty-eyed.
“Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The last thing my mom needs right now is to worry about my pregnant state as well. All of us are going through so much; I can’t afford to have the rest of them worry about me when Drake’s life is still on the line.
Even though it kills me to resign and rest, instead of going upstairs to be with Drake, I force myself to stay put. For Drake and the ba
by; I can do it for them.
The next day, when the doctor, whose name I don’t care to remember, clears me to go home, I immediately go to see Drake in ICU.
Drake being placed in the ICU speaks volumes about how serious his condition is, but I have to be strong. I need to see him. I have to or I will go crazy.
When we get to the private lounge, Hugh and Patricia look worse for wear. It takes me about ten minutes to convince all of them to go home and get some rest. I want to be alone when I see him. I want to spend time with him.
I still myself before I enter his room. I’m not prepared to see the state that he is in.
Drake has tubes around his mouth, his head is wrapped with a bandage and his complexion is pale and ashen. I sag against the closed door frame as I watch the up and down bleeping of the monitor and his breathing ventilator as that too, eerily moves up and down. My tears instantly pool in my eyes as I slowly walk toward his bed.
“Drake,” I whisper chokingly as I reach for his lifeless hand. I stroke it lightly, hating the cold feel of it. “It’s Lily. If you can hear me, I beg you, don’t leave me like this.” I wipe the tears that fall down my face. I want to say more, but I start to bawl hard.
I think I hate myself more for being so selfish with him the last couple of weeks. All that wasted time, for what? Because I was hurt before? Now that there’s a big possibility of him dying, I don’t think I can forgive myself for wasting the precious time that I could’ve spent in his arms because I was being selfish.
I clutch his hand, hard. My heart lurches when I hear an alarming sound.
The sound of death.
It’s the flat line sound of the heart monitor. It takes me a good second to realize what’s going on.
With hot tears in my eyes, I stare at his hand, and then back to the monitor. Then, I scream for help. I know the nurses were alerted the second his monitor went flat, but I’m not prepared for the commotion that rattles into the room. Six nurses and a male doctor come in with a rush. The doctor is barking frantic orders as the Defibrillator is being prepped for use. They open his gown at his chest and place a good amount of gel before the doctor uses the paddles to attempt to resuscitate Drake.