by Zoe Glez
“What do you mean, you weren’t driving?” I ask after his words settle in.
He lets out a breath and starts with his story, “My buddy, Jake, was driving that night. The EMT’s pronounced him dead at the wheel. I knew they had taken the drugs, but it had been a few hours, so I just assumed he was okay. I was drinking that night and I wasn’t in any shape to drive, so when he told me he was fine, I believed him. But, I should have known, I shouldn’t have let any of us drive that night,” he says full of remorse.
“It’s not your fault, baby,” I say rubbing my hand up and down his back, soothing him.
“You should have seen how wrecked that car looked. If it were truly me who was driving, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have survived it,” he admits. “I didn’t want his parents to find out that their perfect son was the one who caused the accident. So, when the police arrived, I told them to blame me; to say I was the one driving. I already had a bad reputation, so it wouldn’t be hard to believe. At first, Jake’s parents hated me, even went as far as to try to press charges against me. But, the police denied their request. When they asked why, the police told them the truth.
“They were broken at first, but ended up thanking me for keeping their sons good image. Unfortunately, things got even worse for me. The doctor told me that I would never be able to play professionally. I could still play, but it wouldn’t be the same. I lost my scholarship due to the accident anyway, so it really didn’t matter whether I played or not. People started hating me for not paying for what they thought I did; I was getting harassed whenever I would leave the house, receiving hate filled letters saying that I should have been the one to die. It all became too much, so I turned to the bottle. I started drinking a lot and somewhere along the way, I lost myself. My mom and Mama finally got tired of seeing what I was doing to myself and they gave me an ultimatum; get myself straight or get out. At one point, I even got slapped by both of them.” He chuckles at the memory. “So, to make them happy, I did as they asked. I went to therapy and enrolled at the first nearby college that was willing to accept me.
“Once I realized it wasn’t doing me any good, I stopped drinking and found my calling working on cars. But, there was still some emptiness inside me. That is, until you came along. You saved me, Laylah. That’s the reason I call you my heaven. You’re not just an angel, you’re my savior, my peace, my eternity. My heaven,” he says, looking directly at me. “You saved me,” he finishes.
If he was going to say anything else, I sure as hell didn’t wait to find out. I kissed him with everything and anything that I had. He saved me, too. I was lost and he found me. We found each other.
“You saved me, too,” I say breathlessly, pulling out of our embrace.
“I love you, Laylah.”
“I love you too, Miguel,” I say with a smile, kissing him on his forehead.
Before I ever moved here, my anxiety had turned into depression. No matter how much I denied it, this was my reality. Then, the depression got so bad, I had started to having thoughts of suicide. I told no one. I really didn’t have any friends, aside from my uncle, and he had moved. That’s when I came home.
I was getting really good at pretending to be happy, but Mickey saw right through it. After our time in Puerto Rico, I had started feeling better. Having him show me that he could really love me and that he cared about me, gave me hope, a reason to live. A year ago, I started to head down the same path again. It wasn’t something I could control, but he pulled me back again. Even when he was hurting, too. He showed me that’s it’s better to hurt with someone else than to hurt all by yourself. It makes the pain feel bearable, gives you the fight to push through.
“I’ve been thinking about the day of the sing-a-long. You sang our song,” he says after a couple of minutes of silence.
“I did.”
“Why did you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about that moment of our lives lately,” I tell him, moving closer to him. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me onto his lap.
“Do you ever wonder how our lives would be if things happened differently? Where we would be now?”
“Always. But, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. We weren’t ready at the time,” I admit.
And, we truly weren’t. Mickey and I hadn’t even been dating for a year when we found out I was pregnant. I was nineteen, he was twenty four. We were both scared, but happy at the same time. Together, our love, had created another person. We hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy, so you can imagine Mama’s surprise and horror when she found me sobbing on the floor of my bathroom with blood all over my hands and pants.
“It was supposed to be a girl. She was supposed to have your eyes and Mickey’s smile,” I say between sobs still staring at my bloody hands.
“Mi niña, come on, let’s clean you up. We have to take you to the hospital,” she said coming towards me.
I shake my head ‘no’. “Is this my punishment? Is this what I get for lying, for wanting to end my own life?” I ask. “Why don’t I deserve to have one good thing in my life, why?” I keep asking, wrecking myself further. I had just lost a huge part of me. I could feel it. Worse yet, I couldn’t feel my baby girl inside me anymore. I knew she was already gone. I felt like I had nothing else left of me.
“Laylah, baby, come on. You’ve got to get up. We have to take you to the hospital. Get up!” Mickey kept saying. I figured Mama had called him, but I was too wrapped up in my own pain to notice. I could hear the pain and desperation in his voice, but I couldn’t function.
“She’s gone. Our baby is gone,” I tell him as soon as he picks me up. I start crying uncontrollably on his shoulder, repeating my mantra. I can feel his tears coming down, too. I know he’s hurting, too, but the selfish part of me didn’t think he deserved to suffer as much as I was.
When we got to the hospital, I was rushed to the emergency room. After some tests, the doctor confirmed what I already knew. I miscarried our baby girl. He started talking about what was going to happened next and explained that soon things will get back to normal. I really don’t know what he’s saying. I just tune him out. I tune everything out. It was as if I had died and my body was on autopilot. I became a zombie. I wouldn’t eat, I barely slept, and I don’t remember saying more than two words to anyone at any given time.
Weeks turn into months and I continue to get worse. I’ve lost weight, considerably. All of my clothes are baggy and hanging off of my even smaller frame. This is when Mickey had decided he had had enough.
“Baby, you’ve got to eat,” he says. I just stare at him with my lifeless eyes. “Eat, Laylah! Damn it!” he yells. “You can’t keep doing this! You have to eat, you have to—” he stops and takes a deep breath. “For the love of God, Laylah! We have to move on. You can’t keep punishing yourself like this, it’s not healthy. So, please, eat. Please, come back to me, to life,” he pleads.
“Move on? How the hell do you expect me to move on when I lost a part of myself?” I ask, feeling the tears start to blur my vision. “I lost my baby! I don’t see a reason to move on, as you so nicely put it,” I finish, glaring at him.
“It was my baby, too!” he yells at me. “It was my baby, too,” he repeats, softer. Tears begin sliding down his cheeks and I can see his pain, a pain that equals mine. “You’re not the only one that’s hurting. I’m hurting, too. And, the fact that you look so lifeless and are willing to just give up without a fight, is killing me. It’s killing me seeing you like this. Come back to me, baby. Please, come back to me. You are not alone, my heaven. We are in this together. I need you,” he admits.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I say sobbing. Seeing how much he’s hurting, and knowing that I’ve caused to hurt more, snaps me out of this trance I’ve been in. Meeting him halfway, I embrace him in a tight hug. We both fall to the floor holding each other, breaking down in tears together, until there aren’t any left. Grieving, together, as a couple, just as it
should’ve had been on the first place.
Always together, never alone.
That day, we made a promise to always be open and be honest with each other, to never censor our feelings and thoughts. We both learned that communication is the key to success. I learned that I had won the jackpot of all boyfriends. With any other man, the relationship wouldn’t have lasted. But, with Mickey…he chose to stay by my side no matter how much I pushed him away. He chose to fight for us.
“Hey, where did you go?” Mickey asks, caressing my cheek.
“I— I was thinking about that day and everything that happened after,” I confess.
“Those were the worst months of my life,” he says, a frown forming on his face.
“I know. For me, too,” I say laying my head on his shoulder.
“Do you—” he starts but stops, I can see his hesitation. “Do you think we should see Dr. Dunning again?” he finally asks.
“I don’t think so, unless you want to,” I say, looking at him now. After the day Mickey confronted me, we decided to go to a couple therapist who also specializes in grief counseling. It really did us a lot of good. It made us stronger.
“Do you?” he asks in a low voice, almost as if he’s scared.
“I really don’t. Honestly, I don’t see the point. We are stronger now than we’ve ever been. I was only thinking about it because I wanted to remind myself how lucky I am to have you in my life,” I admit.
“Good, that’s really good,” he says all of the sudden nervous.
“So, what’s the plan for this short getaway?” I ask teasingly.
“Laylah…there is something I need to tell you,” he hesitantly says.
Chapter Ten
“W
hat is it? Is everything alright? You’re sort of worrying me right now,” I tell him, laughing nervously.
“No, no. I promise it’s nothing to be scared about…I think,” he says, hesitating once again.
“Okay then, spit it out. What is it?”
“First, I want you to know this wasn’t really what I had planned.” He looks me directly in the eyes. I nod, so he continues, “I actually talked to your mom last night and after we were done talking, I decided that it was time. It’s something that I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.” He’s babbling now, something he only does when he’s extremely nervous. “So…here goes.” He moves me out of his lap and onto the couch as he kneels down on the floor beside me on one knee. I can feel the tears streaming out of my eyes as he grabs my hand in his and kisses it, before saying, “Laylah, no middle name, Torres.” We both chuckle at this. “I have loved you for what seems an eternity. We have been through so much together and, in our good times and our bad, we’ve always been there for each other.
“I can’t imagine my life with anyone else, only you. From the very beginning, it has only been you. There have only been two others I have loved in my life; my mom and the baby girl we never had the chance to meet. While my love for them is unconditional, it doesn’t compare to the way I feel about you. You are my savior, my heaven, my sunshine on a rainy day. We belong to each other. Now, I’m not proposing to you. I’m not asking you to marry me,” he says making me furrow my eyebrows in confusion. He chuckles at my reaction, reaches up to smooth my eyebrows, and plants a kiss on my forehead.
“I’m telling you, Laylah. I’m telling you to marry me. I’m telling you to spend the rest of your life with me. What do you say?” he finishes with a hopeful smile.
I smile back at him, tears streaming out of my eyes. I quickly put him out of his misery and answer, “Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes.” I jump on him, causing us both to tumble to the floor, and kiss him with so much passion, so much love, I feel like I could burst.
“You and me, together forever, babe. Against all forces,” he says searching for his pocket and pulling a square, velvet case from it. He opens it and reveals the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.
“Together forever,” I repeat as he puts the ring on my finger. I just stare at my engagement ring in awe, a goofy smile on my face. It’s a simple ring, not very traditional, but so perfect for me. The band is white gold and shaped like a double infinity symbol. A black diamond rests in the center where the infinity symbols link together, a perfect contrast from the white diamonds embedded into the band. “I love it. I love you,” I tell him, kissing him once again. I know he must’ve spent a fortune on it, but I also know given the chance, he would’ve done it a thousand times over.
“You have just made me the happiest man in the universe. I’ve had that ring with me for a while now and I’ve been itching to give it to you. Thank you, Laylah. Thank you for making me this happy. Thank you for loving me, no questions asked,” he says kissing me again.
“No, thank you. I would’ve been lost without you,” I tell him, kissing him back. I give him a brilliant smile and admire my ring. “I don’t want to ever take this off,” I tell him, the reality that half of our family still doesn’t know about us takes over.
“But, if you keep it on the family will start asking questions,” he finishes for me. “I actually thought about that, so I bought you this,” he says, pulling out a white gold necklace so I can wear my ring around my neck.
“I promise that we will tell them after Christmas. I wish it could be before. Hell, I wish it could be tomorrow, but I’m afraid that if my dad or Kev react in a negative way about this, they will ruin the holidays for Mama. Plus, there is also this whole thing with my dad and him not talking to me,” I tell him.
“I was thinking just the same.”
“Can you tell what it is that I’m thinking now?” I ask him, mischievously.
“Hell yeah I can!” he says rising from the floor, picking me up right along with him, and taking us straight to the bedroom, losing our shoes somewhere along the way.
Once we are in the bedroom, he let’s go of me and places me near the bed. He grabs my hip and pulls me closer to him so we are joined together, his crotch to my belly. He grabs my face with his other hand, caresses my cheek with his thumb, and studies every inch of me. When I ask him why he does so, he says that he wants to remember and cherish this moment forever. Right after he says this, he kisses me. I open my mouth so he can deepen the kiss. He moves his tongue slowly along mine, creating an erotic dance. I can feel his erection and I shiver in pleasure.
I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it up and over his head, breaking our kiss. He follows my lead and removes my shirt. I reach for his jeans and start unbuttoning them. He, once again, copies my move. Mickey usually likes to go commando, so I’m not surprised to find him bare and completely erect, standing proudly before me. He slides his fingers into my waistband and teasingly begins to remove my pants, taking my panties with them. He moves back to standing and starts to take off my bra, kissing my shoulder along the way. I run my fingers down his chest and follow the pattern with kisses.
We stand there fully naked in front of each other. I look up at him, my eyes hooded and shiver at the passion and need dancing in his eyes. He tugs me back against him and carefully lies us down on the bed. He’s on top of me now, pressed against me in the most delicious way. He caresses my face with his hands, kisses the spots in each touches wake. Finally…finally, he moves his hands into my hair, possessively takes my lips with his, and enters me. He moves slowly inside of me, possessing every inch of my body, until we are both spent and wallowing in the depths of blissful passion.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear after he regains his breath.
“I love you, too, Dimps,” I tell him, laying a kiss on his cheek.
I am engaged! Engaged, engaged, engaged, engaged! I feel like screaming it from the top of my lungs so that the entire universe can hear that I, Laylah Torres, am engaged and set to become Mrs. Miguel Vega. I don’t give a damn of how cheesy that sounds because, in case you didn’t get the memo, I am engaged!
You could say that I am beyond happy. The last few hours have been
unbelievably blissful. From getting engaged to making love, three times, with the man that owns my heart and soul. I don’t want this day to be over. I woke up before Mickey and have, been sporting the biggest grin known to mankind.
I’ve also been enjoying the view beside me. The love of my life, he’s perfect and he’s set to be my husband. Mickey might not be a super model, but he— he is perfect just the way he is. From his buzz cut, dark hair, to his dimples, tanned skin, brown eyes, lean body from hours of working at the garage to that one and only smile he puts on just for me. He is my home, my soul mate. Mine.
“Enjoying the view, love?” he sleepily mumbles.
“I sure am,” I say a smile still plastered on my face.
“How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to do like twenty mental happy dances,” I tell him.
“You had to pee,” he states, knowing me to well.
“I had to pee,” I confirm. “Plus, I was feeling a little queasy,” I add.
“Are you feeling fine, now?” he asks sitting up and checking my forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever,” he adds once he’s done.
“I’m fine. In fact, I am more than fine. I am beyond fine,” I say, and as soon as I do, my stomach grumbles. “And apparently hungry,” I add.
Mickey chuckles. “So, what’s it going to be future Mrs. Vega? Would you like to go out for breakfast or order something from the hotel room service?”
I smile bigger than before, if it’s even possible, and answer him, “Room service. Definitely, room service. That way we can go for another round.”