Life doesn’t wait for people. It happens to those too busy to make definite plans. I don’t want to wait anymore to see what will happen between you and me. I’m a man, I’m from the south too, and I want you to know I am serious about you. So serious, I will do anything.
I will be coming back on the 18th. Please let me see, you, McKenzie. Please, please, please, think about us for a moment. I saw the look in your eyes whenever we’d make love. The way you’d come for me...the way you clung to my eyes. We have a connection that is deeper than just sex. I know you feel it. Don’t let fear stand in your way. What if you and I are the ocean you are meant to swim in. Won’t you leave your comfortable pond? Explore with me? Love with me?
His words clung to my chest cavity like melted gum on a hot summer’s day stuck on a sidewalk. Love with me? Like, make love with me? Pursue love with me? Or was he saying he loved me?
I looked at the boxes of presents strewn about our living space, each tagged with an intricate note of hopeful playful endeavors together.
This dress is for when I take you to the orchestra.
These sunglasses for when we see the Angels play.
This is a surfboard for when we go surfing together in Malibu.
These are keys for your new Jeep for when we go exploring together again.
These are sexy shoes for when I show you off on Rodeo Drive.
This is a gift card to the uber exclusive La Creme spa for when we make love so much together you want to ease your sore muscles with a good massage and pampering.
This is your new luggage for when I want to take you around the world on an hour notice. Inside you will find clothes for the trip.
I had opened each and every one of them but left them alone. I’m not going to lie, the surfboard looked pretty cool. But it was all beginning to be too much. Smothering, overwhelming. Well, maybe it’s because I found out about Charolette. I couldn’t tell.
Would this be smothering had I not known of the Google news? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t tell at all.
Yes, I could. It bothered me a great deal. All of it.
And I couldn’t fight the sickening feeling of wondering if I was fucking it all up.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I don’t...I don’t understand, McKenzie, why are you acting like...did you receive my gifts every day?” He reached out for me but all I could do was back into my entry room. He let himself in.
I wrapped my arms around myself as a protective barrier.
“What is wrong with you?” He shut the door behind him and locked it. I couldn’t help but to feel a sudden creepy chill on my arms. I mean, she had died. What if she had made him mad or something? What if...
Then I saw his face.
Half of our living room was covered with boxes that were left unopened.
“I see you’re picking and choosing?”
“Shelly has an afinity for liking...no...needing luxurious items in her life.”
“But they were for you.”
He walked closer to me, and I was filled with so much emotion. Most of all fear. Anger. And jealousy.
“Come here....” He reached for me. I melted into him, giving into his power over me. I took him in. His smell. Everything. I could hear and feel his beating heart pounding in my ear as my face pressed against his chest.
“You were all I thought about. Day and night. Get dressed. I want to take you out.”
I took a step back with tears in my eyes.
“What is it, baby?”
All I could do was walk away and sit down on the couch. There on the coffee table were print outs of articles I found online...I had gotten a little carried away with the evidence and looked like a mad detective woman in cave linking plots and twists. Suddenly, I felt sheepish and stupid as I saw the light drain form his gorgeous tanned face and his smiled tightened as tight as a zipper. He briskly walked over to the table and flipped through the pages. I could feel his rage. Feel his energy. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so safe. I felt...scared, angry, sorry I ever looked into it.
He threw papers down, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck!” He shouted as he stomped the heel of his loafer on the wood floor. “Fuck...fuck...! Why? Why are you looking into this like this?”
His anger was rising, his voice raising.
“I....”
“Charlotte was a drug addict. She was my girlfriend, yes. I already told you in Maui there was a past about me that I wasn’t proud about. Remember that? Do you? When I lost my dad, I lost myself. Especially when I could never get him back again. I started experimenting with a few drugs ... and call me crazy, but I felt like I saw...heard him. With me. Shit....” He stomped his loafer once more, releasing his obvious frustration and angry steaming teakettle.
“Charlotte died in my bed. Alone. I was already getting help at this point but turns out she was addicted to not only drugs, but to me, as well. My lifestyle. What was I supposed to do when she showed up at might house drunk, high, and in tears because I broke it off with her? How could I let her walk out like that into the public eye? Call me crazy, but I’m actually a caring human being. But of course the fucking press isn’t going to print any of this side of the story. They aren’t going to print shit of my side because drama sells. Negativity sells! It’s fucking lies. Bullshit! I having FUCKING proof I wasn’t in the room with her when she died. I was in the guest room and my own sister was there, too.”
His hands were shaking.
“I found her in the morning. Dead. In my bed. Yes, she was naked. Dead. And I had nothing to do with hit. Nothing. Damn it.” He picked up a vase of flowers and threw it crashing to the ground. “And I’ll be damned if I have to get on another witness stand defending my own character and who I am. I told you I’m not that twenty-one-year-old fucking guy anymore!”
And with that he was gone. Door slammed.
And I was left on the couch shaking at what I had just heard.
Trembling.
Oh. Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I could barely focus in biochemistry and this was not good. Not at all. Especially since that subject is my weakest link. I would have to make up for it by studying every spare moment. It was practically like learning a new language with all of the new vocabulary. Normally, my memory works excellently, and I’m able to go over information a few times and have the new information stored in my memory. I’m not photographic, no, but I was excellent at learning quickly. But ever since this major stress of fighting with Kyle and his explosive reaction, and my efforts to reach out to him going unreciprocated, he was all I could think about day and night. I couldn’t shake my awful feelings of being sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t shake how strange I felt from all this stress. Never one to be prone to stomach ulcers....I sure felt one coming along. And it did not feel good. At all.
I opened my textbook for Clinical Anatomy where we were to discuss the abdomen and the gastrointestinal tract. The colors. The shapes. My insides. Staring at the pictures in the book made my stomach rumble, and I could practically smell the acidic nature of the juices. Ugh. The insides truly are disgusting.
It didn’t look so good...I quickly shut my book and I let out a small sigh and scribbled useless symbols on my notepad. What was wrong with me? I really needed to get a grip. I could have sworn I heard my name, but whatever. I went back to scribbling.
“Miss Kane. Could you please come up to the front and label for me the colonic supply of the inferior mesenteric artery?”
I swallowed a bit of nausea, I felt so weak. I felt sweat pouring from the sides of my scalp. I took a quick sip of water and placed in on the desk.
“By all means, do take your time.”
I felt all clammy. Dizzy and sweaty.
Come on McKenzie pull it together. Don't be embarrassed. I wiped a sweat bead at my brow and sucked in fresh breath. I looked out at my fellow classmates, and they all looked blurry.
I squinted as if I were wearing glasse
s not for my eye strength and then the last thing I saw was the legs of a desk as I fell to the ground.
“Give her some room. Give her some room.”
I was lifted up by a young man with glasses and given fresh water by another. I looked around in a daze.
“Okay,...okay. I suggest all of you get used to this. This isn’t the first and this won’t be the last.” I felt wobbly as I stood there taking everything in.
Dr. Jacobs already had her rubber gloves on and was disposing of my insides before disinfecting the floor with industrial paper towels. The class was whispering, a few laughs but most of all, kind, concerned faces. Dr. Jacobs removed her gloves and washed her hand thoroughly in the lab sink.
“Miss Kane you do need to develop a stronger stomach if you wish to be a surgeon."
All I could do was bury my forehead on my desk, moaning on the inside of embarrassment. Not good...not good!
This happened again the next day, yet I finally made it out of the class doors and into the ladies room.
And the next day.
"I swear—I have the strongest stomach there is! I've been to Africa and even helped assist doctors and...I can watch any surgery and be fine! I promise!”
I stopped as Dr. Jacobs put her hands up while I wiped a few tears.
"Then perhaps it's time to talk about test results."
“Wait, there was a test? Shit, please tell me I’m not in the bottom 20%.” I started freaking out. “I mean, sorry for cussing. But, I mean, I know I missed a few days a month ago, but please! I want this more than anything. I’m just going through a difficult time right now.”
Her hands went up as if directing traffic. She shook her head no.
“I promise I study day and night. Ask my roommate. This is my life. MY LIFE!”
Finally she stopped me. Her hand on my shoulder.
“That’s not the type of test I’m talking about.”
"Pardon?"
"I’m talking about a pregnancy test."
I nearly fainted at such suggestion.
As I walked to my car, my hands shook, and I called Shelly, all the while feeling like an alien had abducted my body and conducted some cruel experiment as an inside joke for their reality TV. She met me at the CVS closest to our apartment, and we purchased a few boxes.
“I mean, this can't be. Can't. I'm probably just nervous or stressed or something.” I managed to get out while we were standing in line.
“You’re love struck. Come on I see it all over your face. You've got it bad. You love him. You are crazy about him.”
I couldn’t get to our restroom fast enough and do the deed. I just needed to see NOT PREGNANT and attribute the nerves to a being in love and going through a small melt down.
Shelly never left my side.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this...I can’t believe I’m doing.” I felt numb, like truly an out of body experience. I was aware that there was a body peeing on a stick, sure. And the body resembled me...okay. But, a part of my psyche was completely dissociating. Like floating away....viewing this poor girl in the restroom having a moment of panic.
Byeee...! I’m off to never-never-land while you stay here on Earth!
I let out a long sigh as I sat on the cold toilet seat. A feeling I think I’ll never forget.
“How long has it been since y’all talked?”
“Two weeks.”
I sighed again into my hand. They were shaking, and I felt fresh tears fill my eyes. “I fucked it all up doubting him. I mean, you should have seen his face.”
“Hon, it’s okay.”
“I mean....”
“Something tells me you’re going to see him again.”
My eyes were still shut as my forehead rested against the counter all the while I still sat like I was frozen. Unable to move.
“Because honey, you're...pregnant."
Oh. My. God.
Chapter Thirty
My hands trembled as I buttoned my denim shirt up over my maxi dress. It was one of my only shirts where I could actually get away with not wearing a bra. My breasts hurt so bad I couldn’t even barely wear a wireless bra, a sports bra, or a camisole lace bra. I winced as I buttoned the last button. Damn, my breasts hurt! I didn’t know they could hurt so bad.
I trailed my fingers through my minimal jewelry; my long staple pieces always did the trick. I chose a coral long necklace and draped it over my neck.
No.
Yellow.
No. Nothing. Ugh, I couldn’t make up my mind!
I spun to the side and placed my hand over my lower stomach.
Is there really a baby in there? My stomach felt absolutely the same. Flat. Everything felt the same. Well, scratch that. That’s not entirely the truth. My breasts hurt like hell, and I couldn’t get over the horrible nausea. I felt sick from not only the physical feeling of being pregnant, but I felt awfully sick from nerves. How was I going to tell him? I mean, sure I was going to see him in less than a few hours. No big deal.
Hell.
I’m pregnant!!
I’m hormonal, which probably explains the reason for my outlandish outburst. I would have to apologize for that. I felt horrible. Awful. But I couldn’t fight the feeling of being scared. Alone. I could raise this baby alone and continue medical school. I figured out how to go to medical school in the first place, I’m sure I would figure out a way to continue. With my new baby.
With a baby that was sure to remind me of him every day.
Where did we stand?
All I wanted to do was run into his arms, tell him how sorry I was. Did I ruin everything? I let an entire month run by, days filled with costly presents delivered, completely blowing him off.
When he didn’t answer my first call, or my first text, I thought he never wanted to see me or talk to me again.
But when he finally answered me, I couldn’t believe it.
He asked if he could pick me up, but I couldn’t bare to ride in a car together, filling in silence by blurting out I’m pregnant before saying I’m sorry. So after streets with traffic, I finally made it to the bistro I adored right off the beach in Malibu.
This beach always made me feel better no matter how crappy I felt. The fresh salt water, the constant soothing waves. Lost in my thoughts, I propped up my chin on my fist, gazing into the sea.
My lust thoughts. My memories.
The special times we had together in the water. How much fun we had with no cares in the world. Would I ever feel like that again? I mean, having a baby changes everything! What would he say? Would he... would he still be attracted to me? Would we be still together? Like together together. Not linked by a human carrying our DNA.
I shuttered in absolute fear. I took a sip of Sprite, feeling sick. I had to calm down. This constant worrying cannot be good for a baby. For...a little girl possibly. I ran my fingers through my hair. This is crazy! Shit. I mean, no cussing! I have to watch my language now. She or he can hear my every word.
The skidding of the wicker chair snapped me out of my freak out zone. I exhaled as I finished trailing my fingers through my hair. His look said it all. He was intrigued by my emotions. I’m sure I looked like a basket-case.
“You look...beautiful.”
Electricity shot up and down my body as every feeling came rushing over me. Fear, desire, lust, sadness, longing, regret, compassion, love.
Nervously, I tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear. “Look, thanks for meeting me.” I tucked another tendril behind my ear before exhaling. I played with the bottom of my shirt and re-crossed my legs.
“Look I feel—”
He reached for my arm and stopped me. The touch sent shivers through my body and I felt every sensation all over.
“No, no. I lost my cool. I snapped. I couldn’t believe I let myself get so angry like that. That’s a chapter of my life I despise and never want to revisit. I’m sure....” He cleared his throat, and I could see the obvious hurt in his eyes. It made me sad. I wanted to
wipe it all away for him, take away the hurt, the fabrications. All the stories. How awful would it be to have lies upon lies printed about you, written about you forever published in the forever database of Google?
“I’m sure you get it.” His grip was tighter on my hand. “But, it wasn’t okay. Flipping out like that. I....” He retracted his arm and bit down on his thumb before running his hand through his hair. “I promised myself not to ever lose my shit again. I hadn’t faced those emotions in such a long time. But how I reacted was in no way acceptable. It was a lot of pent up anger, and I did not act like a gentleman. I made you feel threatened. I haven’t been pushed like that in years.”
“I’m...sorry.” It was barely a whisper.
“It’s not your fault. See, that’s what I’m trying to let you see. You woke me up inside. It wasn’t just sex to me.” He leaned in and quieted his own voice.
His hand went back to my own hand, lightly smoothing my sensitive skin, making it very hard to focus! “You brought life back to me. Made me feel things.”
“I just don’t get it though. How can it not be the sex? We met at a sex club. You bid for me. Saw me naked. Our entire relationship has been physical.”
He shook his head.
“It hasn’t. It’s not. Remember? I knew of you. I saw your file. I knew, know, all about you. You’re southern. Sweet. Good morals. Cares about people. The world’s a crazy place, and you don’t meet too many sweet southern young women...a woman. I don’t do what I did with you with just anyone. Taking you to Maui...that was personal. Sharing with you about my twin brother. My dad. You make me want to share these things with you. This past month was pure torture for me.”
“Me...me too.”
“Excuse me. May I offer you two something to drink?” an eager server politely asked.
“I’ll have a bottle of your 2011 Pinot Gris from Willamette Valley please.”
“I—”
My stomach flipped at the thought of wine and the acid taste and overwhelming smell. Everything made me nauseous. I just would have to tell him soon. Before I smelled the wave of tang.
Wanting So Bad, Loving So Good Page 21