by Kara Hart
I start to get curious again. Who knows what’s inside? It could be another panty set. There’s no lock on it, so I do the dirty and click it open. Inside is another note, laid on top a set of hundred dollar bills. I grab the note and read it. “This is for your car.” Simple.
I count the money, running my hand through the hundred dollar bills. It actually takes me a while to count it all out, but I eventually get there. “Are you kidding me?” I whisper to myself. “Ten thousand dollars?”
I can’t believe it. The car might’ve cost three thousand, tops. But ten thousand? There’s no reason why he should have left that amount of money. I’m not complaining, of course. It sort of solves my dilemma. Maybe he really did like me. Maybe his mother is in bad shape.
Still, the day doesn’t get any easier for me. If I had no shame, I could call Darrin. At least he’d be familiar. I can’t let myself do that, of course. It wouldn’t be a wise choice.
“Walker,” I whisper to myself. I think of his face and I smile. I dream of his body and I feel hot. I can still hear his accent in my ears, whispering, “You’re an angel.” He made me feel so fucking good. Now, he’s gone. He’s out of my life forever.
All those promises are just lingering lies. Years will pass and we’ll both move on and forget the night we found love and passion in one another. His mother will get better or she’ll get worse. He’ll move to a different state back home, or he’ll never come back. Who knows? As for me, I’ll have found another job and started another life. If “we” were to happen, it was now or never. The timing was just way off.
So I say my goodbyes. I even cry a little. It’s not like me, but this week has been utter chaos for me. I feel so damn strained and misunderstood. To top it all off, I met someone really fun and wildly different. You only do that a few times in this life.
No, it’s not a sob story. These things tend to happen for a reason. I just wish I could have one last kiss. All I want is one touch from Walker Hambell, the boyfriend I never could have.
13
Walker
“Alright, you bastard. You want me? You can have me.”
Leaving is never my strong suit. I’m not one of those men who says goodbye, hugs it out for two hours, and cries. I’m silent. I’m mysterious. Most of all, I move on fast.
Well, usually I do. Today, however, has been fucking rough. I can’t get Erica off my mind. When I close my eyes, I see her body. When I listen, I hear her voice. There are memories I will never forget, such as her lips around my cock, eyes squinting with a smile as she pulls it back out, like the naughty girl she is.
God dammit, she was wild. She was totally insane. And that’s why I wanted her so bad. She offered me something no woman could before. She was on my level.
I hope she uses the money well. She deserves it. Anyway, I don’t need it. I’ve got too much cash to fly with, right now. This morning, my realtor told me on the phone he thinks I can get 2.5 million dollars for this house. Then there’s the car and the toys, and everything else I own. If it’s money that Hawk wants, he can have it. I’ve got plenty to spare. Something tells me that’s not all he’s after.
It’s not long before I’m at the airport, booking a late flight to London. “First class,” I tell the lady. She takes one look at my black credit card and nods. “Yes, there’s a flight going out today, actually. One seat available, but you’ll have to pay a little extra.”
Sure. Take it all. I don’t care anymore.
I grab my ticket and head through security. A woman in line turns around and smiles at me. I smile back and she actually touches my thigh. In my head, I see Erica. I can picture her standing with me. We’re travelling the world together. We’re making a new life with each other. We have a child and we’re bloody happy.
“Sir? You’re passport, please.”
I wake up from my dream. “Oh, right. Sorry,” I mutter. I hand him my passport and my bags, and I get through. The airport is a nightmare zone, but when I’m on my flight, I can breathe a little easier.
The flight so far is smooth and calm. After a whiskey or two, I fall asleep. When I’m dreaming, she’s there. Erica, the woman I can’t stand to be away from. It’s that same dream I keep having of her. We’re close to each other, we’re smiling, and we’re free. The sun is shining and we’re in our house together, in the countryside of England. Our little boy is running in the fields, screaming as he flies a kite. I’m right there with him. We’re older in this dream, but all feels right.
Of course, this is just fantasy. That’s never going to happen. I’m never going to live a life with Erica. I’ll never see her again. Time will move forward and so will she. She’ll find a new husband and have the best damn life she’s ever had. I’ll be stuck, managing Hawk’s “business.”
Come tomorrow, I’ll be without her.
Weeks pass and I keep my cool. I try not to think about her. I try my damn hardest not to care. Eventually, you just keep walking. You focus on your rhythm and you tell yourself, “It’s okay. This is life.”
Weeks in a flat alone, I have no one to talk to and nowhere to go. Eventually, I work up the courage to go and see Hawk. I walk onto the block and a gang of children, none of them older than nineteen, greets me. Some are younger. They stand there, arms crossed, waiting to hear me speak. I forgot what it was like here. These kids are young, but they’re ruthless and unaffected by any kind of fear.
“Came to see Hawk,” I mutter, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
“Bit of a poofter, innit?” one of them asks. They all laugh. It’s the equivalent of calling me a pussy. I’m not amused.
“I remember when I was in your shoes,” I laugh. “On the streets, bangin’ away. Me and my mates, the knackered and pissed.”
“Wasteman,” one of them says. “I suggest you fucking put your head down and leave.”
I simply laugh and take a step forward. I may be a nice sight to look at, but I’m not afraid of these children. I’ve suffered through the worst fights. “Hawk. Send him to me.”
“Piss off!” the boy yells. They all step around me, ready to give me the fight of my life.
I hear a pair of footsteps and every single person turns around. “There you are,” I say. “Hawk.”
“You came back,” he says, nodding. “I’m a bit surprised. Miss me?”
“It was about time,” I say. Erica. She flashes in my mind. It was the worst timing ever.
He doesn’t say anything back. He just continues to stare. The kids are waiting on him to react.
“Anyway, are you proper skint?” British slang, meaning are you broke? “I’ve got your money.”
I hold out a small briefcase. “There’s sixty large inside. I have a million coming your way in about a week,” I say.
“Not here,” he mutters. “Come. Follow me.” We circle around the block, until we reach a familiar door. He knocks a few times and the guys open it for him. We step inside and walk through a red hallway. Soon enough, we’re in his office.
“I can’t believe this place still exists,” I smile. “Brings back memories.”
“Let’s get down to business,” he sighs. “Are you back? Because I don’t want to have to cut off any fingers.” There’s a few seconds pause before he bursts out laughing.
“Fucking hell,” I laugh a little.
“It’s a joke. Calm down. We’re even,” he says. But I know in my heart we’re not even. I’ll have to stay here. I’ll have to work for him again. I’ll have to give up everything I once had, and everything I could have had.
Erica. A house. A life. We could have had a kid. We could have been something beautiful.
But inside my heart, I’m ugly. I know I am. My choices are all fucking wrong. My demons are large. This is my punishment. This is what I get for thinking I could run the world my way.
“So,” he exhales. “Welcome home, Walker.”
14
Erica
It’s been six weeks since he left me, six whole w
eeks since he left my life in tatters. I’d cry, but Renata has been nice enough to put me up for the time being. Lately, I’ve just felt off. I don’t know if it’s the stress of everything, or if it’s because he left to England without even calling me one last time. Something isn’t sitting right inside of me.
“Who cares?” Renata brushes the whole thing off. “You’re on top of the world. Can’t you see that?”
I laugh a little, but I try to see it her way. I have to admit. It’s really hard. “No, I can’t. I have no husband, no job, and no prospects,” I say. “Worst of all, I don’t have him.”
I fall back on her couch and stare at the ceiling. Everything is colorless to me. I reach into my purse and pull out his card. The boyfriend experience. Yeah, some experience. “Give me that,” she says, yanking it out of my hand. She rips it in half. “You don’t need to hang onto the past like you are.”
“Hey!” I yell. “What the hell?”
She looks at me squarely and frowns. “Move on, Erica,” she says. “Seriously. It’s for your own health.”
She’s right. I clutch my hands around my coffee cup and close my eyes. I need to calm down. I need to stop thinking about him. He’s not the end all be all to my life. Just breathe, Erica. I take one breath in, hold it in, and release. I start to feel a little better. I repeat the little exercise.
“There you go, E.” She smiles. “You don’t need him. All you need is yourself.”
I keep breathing, until I start to feel something in my stomach. It’s a creeping sickness coming in. “Wait a second,” I slow down and bend over the couch, clutching my abdomen. It grows and grows, until… “Shit.” I jump up and run to the bathroom.
I vomit all of my coffee and breakfast. “Fuck,” I breathe. I puke again. The image is so flattering. When I’m done, I feel much better. It’s really weird I haven’t felt sick at all until just now. I sit on the toilet with my hands over my head, reclaiming my breath.
“Baby girl, are you okay?” Renata peaks her head into the bathroom.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I guess so. I don’t know what just happened. Maybe it’s too much coffee or something.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she mutters. I can tell she has something else on her mind and, yes, it’s already been a thought of mine as well. What if I’m pregnant? Back when I was in college, I had that thought every single time I fucked someone.
“I’m not pregnant. I can’t be pregnant,” I tell her. “Right?”
She kneels down and rubs my arm. “Show me your tits,” she says.
“What?” I exclaim. “No!”
She shrugs. “Well, are they swollen at all? Have you been feeling sick in the morning?”
“No. I mean, not really. I’ve felt kind of weird lately, but that’s just because of everything going on around me. It’s like my whole energy has been off,” I say.
She looks at me, frowning. “Erica,” she says, “you need to go get a test.”
“I’m not pregnant!” I stand up and walk out of the bathroom. I turn back around. “He used a condom. We were safe.”
“Did you check the thing afterward?” she asks me, hands on her hips. “Were you as safe as you thought?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m not going to go digging around for his used condom, Ren,” I say, feeling exhausted.
“But he blew his load inside you?” she asks.
“You’re seriously disgusting,” I say. But I have to face the facts. “Okay, he did. But I’m not pregnant. I cannot and will not be pregnant.”
“It wouldn’t be great with everything going on in your life lately,” she agrees. “But I’m here for you, always. You can stay here as long as you want. I don’t mind.”
“I’m not having a baby. I’m not having a baby. I’m not having a baby,” I repeat it over and over again. “I’m healthy. I’m young. I’m going to find a job and a man, and I’m going to have a good, well-planned life.”
“I’m just saying,” she goes on, “that I’m here for you if you need me. That’s all.”
“Thanks, Ren. I really appreciate it,” I say. “I’m going to go on a drive.”
“You need me to come with?” she asks, eyes full of empathy and understanding. It’s when I see her eyes that I almost start to cry. What if I am pregnant? What if Walker’s child is inside of me right now?
“No, I’m okay,” I say, quickly walking out the door. “I’ll call you when I’m coming home.”
“Love you,” she says, before I close the door.
I walk to the car as fast as I possibly can. I close the door and lean back in my seat. I’m not going to cry. I don’t know anything yet. I’m just going to go to the store, pick up a few tests, and leave. I’m about to get my peace of mind. There’s no way I’m pregnant. As disgusting as it is to think about, Darrin used to cum inside me all of the time. I’ll be fine. I know it.
An hour later, I’m in the superstore, holding a test in my hand. Babies and children are practically surrounding me. One mother yells at her daughter, telling her to “Put back that toy! Put it down now!” Her daughter lets out a shrill cry of despair. It’s piercing.
“Jesus,” I mutter, walking to the bathroom. I slam the stall shut and sit on the toilet. I carefully undo the box top and tear open the plastic. Every sound is so loud to me right now. My senses seem to be going crazy. I can’t tell if it’s all in my head, however. It’s been weeks and I’m having pregnancy symptoms already? It can’t start that early. Can it?
I pee on that damn stick. It’s not the first time I’ve done it. Darrin and I went through the rounds a handful of times. He never wanted children, despite promising me them someday. Ultimately, it was a good idea we never pursued that path, but if I’m fucking pregnant now, I’m done for. My life will be over.
The time it takes for this damn test to show results feels like a lifetime. I hold it in front of me, waiting for the image to show up. Please. Please don’t say positive. Please tell me I’m just stressed the fuck out.
The image starts to form. My heart pounds. My vision slows down. Tears form in my eyes. Positive +. I let out a horrid cry. “No!” I scream. My voice falters and I can’t even say anything. It can’t be. It has to be wrong.
I rip open another test and go through the motions. Positive +. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper. “Shit, no!” Tears pour from my eyes, trailing down my cheeks. Walker. The motherfucker who got me pregnant.
Where is he now? Where will he be tomorrow? I’m never going to get that call from him. There’s never going to be another chance. Even if there was, he wouldn’t stay with me to raise a baby. How stupid am I? I have to be a fucking moron to ruin my life this much.
“Are you okay?” a woman asks me through the stall. “Do you need help?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I’m…” I don’t know what to say to the woman. Do I tell her I’m pregnant with a foreign man’s child? “I’m just going through something right now.”
“Okie dokie,” she says, walking away.
Okie dokie. Everything is just hunky dory. I’m pregnant and I’ll never get my life back.
I call Renata and close my eyes, trying to block the world out. “Erica? What’s up? You okay?”
“Ren,” I cry. “I’m pregnant. I’m fucking pregnant.”
Six years later…
“Aidan! You’re going to be late for the bus!” I yell. “Ronnie?”
I’m finishing making his sandwich. I throw in a plastic bag of carrots. I leave a note inside. “Have a wonderful day, my love. Mommy misses you!”
First Grade. It’s such a big thing for a mom. He’s getting so much older. “Mommy! I feel sick!” I hear him yell.
“God dammit, Aidan,” I whisper. It doesn’t mean he’s not a little faker. I walk into his room and he’s taken off his clothes and tucked his body under the covers. “Aidan, come on. You don’t have much time. You’re going to miss the bus.”
“Mom, I’m sick,” he groans and fakes a cough. I walk over
and feel his head. He actually feels colder than normal. There’s not a trace of too much heat in his body.
“Aidan, you feel fine. Don’t kid me. I won’t read to you tonight if you do,” I warn him.
He groans loudly and rolls out of bed. “Sorry,” he says. I put his shirt over his head and he wiggles into it. I put on his pants, his socks, and his shoes, all in such a hurry.
“Come on, baby. We only have five minutes.” We rush outside the house and run as fast as we can. I can hear the brakes from the bus. It stops at the corner for a brief second, and leaves. “No! Wait!” I yell, but it’s already gone.
“Dang it!” I hiss. This whole going to school, making lunches, and then going to work thing is impossible, I swear.
“It’s okay, momma,” he says. “We can drive.”
“Okay. Let’s go,” I smile and look at the bright side. Sure, raising Aidan alone is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s still a damn blessing. “I’ll race you!”
I start running and he follows after me. “Head start!” he yells. “You cheated!”
“No way!” I laugh, touching the door of the car first. “Mom wins!”
“Not fair,” he pouts. I open the door, put him in the backseat, and we head for the school.
Every single day he leaves my sight my heart breaks a little more. Seeing him grow is just about the best experience I’ve been through. But he’s getting older. He’s starting to ask questions. All of the other kids have dads. Where is his?
I can’t even answer that at this point. I thought that by now I would have heard something from him, but of course there’s just static. He left to London and never came back. Most likely, he found a job, met a beautiful woman, and pursued that as much as he could. Do I blame him? That, I can’t answer.