by Vicki Green
“I’ll come over and….”
“No! Uh, no. You can’t do that, not right now at least. Try to figure out who this chick is and get things straightened out. Don’t dig this hole any deeper, man. Okay? I think it’s better that you give her a little time. Let her cool off. Taren’s talking with her. She can usually calm her down. Maybe in a few days….”
A few days? No! I can’t wait that long to get this sorted out.
I grab some of my hair, squeeze, and pull. I’m numb. My whole body is numb. This situation is wrong. So wrong. This can’t be happening. I just finally got Irish to begin to trust that I wouldn’t hurt her. That I’m a good guy. What if I did get someone pregnant? What if I actually am going to have a child? Of course I’d want to do right by the mother and child. My child. I would want to be a part of the baby’s life. How could I not? But losing Irish over this is not acceptable. She can’t blame me for something that happened when we weren’t together. I know she is acting out of fear. It just reinforced that men sleep around and can’t commit. I get that, I guess. I know all men aren’t like this but with the track record of her mom and dad and then the guys who hit on her on for only sex, yeah, it’s gonna be tough to get through to her that I’m not like that. At least not anymore.
“Okay. I’ll see if I can get in touch with this Margie but I’m not sure I can wait a few days to try to talk to Irish. She needs to understand that this is my past, not my future. I thought I’d gotten through to her that I’m not like that anymore, that I only want her. Fuck!” I pull on my hair again, the small bit of pain keeping me coherent. This has to be a mistake. One horrible, messed up mistake. Not saying that any kind of protection is one hundred percent effective but I’ve always been so careful, never having wanted to commit to anyone, or have anything more than a one night stand. Until Irish.
“Well, you know how stubborn Irish is.” Yeah, slightly. Shit! “I’ll try to find out from Taren what all is going through that head of hers. Meanwhile, you try to find this Margie girl and find out about that. Hey, for what it’s worth – I know you’re a good guy, Caylan, and wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt Irish. I know how you feel about her, even if she doesn’t believe it.” I’m nodding to myself but the whole time my insides are twisted and my head feels like it could explode. “Foolish woman. Sometimes I wonder if she’ll ever trust anyone,” he mumbles. That’s making this worse. “I’ll let you go but call me if you want to talk later or let me know how your search is going, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, man. Just…. Help Taren make Irish see that I didn’t do this to hurt her. That I would never hurt her. Fuck! Just help her understand. Please?” God, I’m begging, pleading for my friend to help get my girl back. We end the call and suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel lower than low, like I can’t seem to do anything right. What am I gonna do if Irish never comes around? What if she won’t ever trust me again? I turn around, abruptly, and walk to my bedroom. When I reach my small desk, I pull open the small drawer at the top and pull out my little black book. Backing up, I sit down on the edge of my bed and flip to the M’s and start scouring for Margie.
M? There’s a big ‘X’ marked in black marker by her name. Who in the hell is that?
Mabel
Maci
Mackenzie
Madeline
Maddie
Maddy
Madena
Madia
Madora
Mady
Mae
Maegan
Maggie
Mahala – Oh, I remember her fondly. Hawaii. Yeah.
Maia
Maira
Mandi
Mara
Margaret
I stop there as it moves on past the order that Margie would be in. Who is this woman? I wonder if? No. God, I hope not. There’s a reason why I put that big ‘X’ next to that initial. Crazy? Most likely. Shit! Reluctantly, I hold my phone out before me and slowly hit call on her number. Maybe she won’t pick up so I can hear her voice on her voicemail, reminding me who the hell she is.
“Hello?” Shit! No such luck.
“Uh. This is Caylan Dorn. To whom am I speaking to?” Silence. Too much silence. “I’m sorry but I….”
“Caylan,” she whispers.
Nervousness builds up to the point of making me sweat, my heart beating so hard, I can feel it in my chest. I swear by the time I get Irish back, I will have a heart attack. Is twenty-three too young to have one? Probably not.
“Caylan. This is Margie Baker. You remember? We met about nine months ago at the Galaxy Bar in Homeland, Georgia? I was so disappointed you didn’t stay the night and then you’d never return my phone calls.” Shit! M. Now I remember her. She is crazy! Or at least she was back then. I hear a loud sigh. Sweat begins to bead on my forehead. “I came to your apartment this morning. Some poor girl was there, saying she is your girlfriend. But we know better than that, don’t we? You’re not a girlfriend kind of man.” Her voice becomes louder. “You’re a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. Aren’t you, Caylan?” I swear I heard a growl in her yell. I don’t know what to say, how to respond. She’s right. That was what I was like. Remorse hits me hard. How many women felt this way? How many hoped I’d stay the night. Hold them in my arms after we had sex? Fuck! I’m an asshole. No wonder Irish won’t let her guard down. Open her heart to me or anyone. Who wants to let someone make them feel that way? Like trash. “But. I forgive you,” she whispers.
“Margie. I’m so…. So very sorry.” I do feel bad. Now.
“It’s really too late for that, don’t you think?” What? “But I have more important things to discuss with you now.” Her voice hardens. “I’m here in town. We need to meet or I can come back to your apartment.”
“No! I mean, no, I can meet you somewhere. Just tell me where.” My voice sounds like a drone. Like there’s no emotion, nothing felt sincerely. I just want to meet her and get this over with. There has to be some mistake. Her baby can’t possibly be mine. Well, it could but I refuse to believe it without proof. If the baby is mine, I’ll take full responsibility. Give her money and part custody. I won’t have my baby grow up without the love of a daddy. I will love the baby and do whatever I can to give him or her a happy life. I don’t walk away from my responsibilities. Ever. Then I’ll just have to go over to Taren’s and explain to Irish. Make her see that we can make this work between us. She means so much to me and I can’t let her walk away from us. I refuse to let that happen.
“Very well. Meet me at the restaurant in the Holiday Inn Hotel on Fifth Street in half an hour. I’ll be waiting.”
I begin to agree and start to tell her when I hear a click. I think she’s hung up. I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it. Yep. She hung up. Well, if she thinks she’s gonna corner me into thinking this child is mine without a DNA test, she has another thing coming.
Irish
“Stop it, Irish, or you’re gonna make yourself sick.” I’m bawling my eyes out into the pillow, my hands fisting the sides. I feel her pull back my hair. I’ve been crying since I got here and there’s no end in sight. “Come now. Just because this woman shows up at his apartment claiming that her baby is Caylan’s, doesn’t mean it’s true. You know as well as I do that one – Caylan is a good man and wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Two – some women are crazy. She could just be saying the baby is his when it’s really someone else’s and three – you take everything to the extreme and think it’s all about you. What do you think Caylan is going through right now? Huh? Have you thought about that?” I turn my head, slightly, and peek at her. She’s right, of course, but I can’t help the way I feel. She smooths back my hair. “Just talk to him, honey. He’s gotta be going crazy right now with worrying about you.”
“He is.”
I lift my head at Brock’s voice. Sadness shadows his face.
“He really is going crazy. Pretty much beside himself. I tried to calm him down but he didn’t have any of
it.” His arms are crossed over his chest, his body leaning against the doorway. “Throw him a bone, Irish. Give him something. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Anger swells in me. That woman’s face appears in my mind and her swollen stomach. I push myself up a little and glare at him. “Fuck him, Brock. He made his bed.” I hate this feeling of hatred and jealousy. Shit! I’m actually jealous of that little whore.
He straightens his stance and starts to turn away. “Just sayin’. You might find out what’s really going on from him before you throw him under the bus.” His eyes bore into mine, his brows lowered. “Quit being a bitch, for once, Irish. Not everything is about you and not everything is always what it seems.” My mouth drops open as my brows raise. I watch him walk around the corner and can feel the steam seeping from my ears. I look up at Taren, whose mouth is pressed shut, trying to contain her laughter. Really?
“What the hell, Taren? You’re taking his side too?” I sit up, abruptly, and throw my arms around my waist. I can’t help pouting and feeling like everyone’s against me. HE got her pregnant. It’s HIS fault. So why am I being called a bitch? This IS about me, dammit! Another tear slides down my face and I brush it away forcefully in anger. I rest my hand down on my leg and hers quickly covers it, her face changing to sadness.
“Irish. You know you’re acting on the moment, which you tend to do.” One of my brows raises. “I’m sorry but it’s true. Calm down and then call him. Let him explain. Obviously, this woman is from his past. I’m sure he hasn’t been with anyone but you since you two got together. I know he’s not a cheater. Besides, when he talks about you, I’ve never seen his face light up so much.” My anger dies down a little. “I believe he truly wants you and only you, Irish.”
“Do you really think that?” My voice is small, not like me at all. Maybe I’m hopeful.
She nods and her mouth lifts into a small smile. “I really do, honey. I don’t think he’s out to hurt you. I just think maybe his past might have caught up with him. The question I would ask you: if he finds out that the baby is really his, will you be able to live with that? I’m just trying to play devil’s advocate here. It is something you would need to think about if you and Caylan stay together. Not saying the baby is his but there might be a chance that it is. Can you put your feelings behind you and be with him?” I shrug not knowing if I really could or not. Her face softens. “I know you have a big heart, Irish, and that you guard it well but there will always be women from his past. You can’t let that get in the way of what you want.”
Shit! She’s right. But is he really what I want? I thought so this morning before that knock came on his door or at least I was willing to try. I was going to the doctor, for him. I was going to go meet his family, for him. Damn him. I already had let down part of my wall from around my heart and look what happened. “How can things get so messed up so quickly?” She pats my hand and another tear escapes my eye. She grasps my arms and pulls me into her for a hug. Just what I need. She always knows what I need. I lay my head down on her shoulder and sniff. “I’m a shit friend, too. I haven’t even asked you how you’re feeling.” The water works begin again and I’m bawling.
After my tears ran dry and I mean literally my eyes are so dry that she had to give me some drops to put in them, she went downstairs to start dinner. At least she can cook now without running into the bathroom and losing her cookies. Now, I feel horrible. Here I’ve been crying to her about the shambles of my life and she’s pregnant. Carrying a new life inside her and has been so sick. This should be such an exciting part of her life. She and Brock are finally together in this beautiful house, a dream come true, and they are gonna have a baby. I am a shit friend.
I hobble into the bathroom, splash come cool water on my face and press my hands down on the counter looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes are all red, swollen, and I have blotches on my face. Perfect end to a perfect day. “Woman up, Irish. Get your shit together. What’s the worst thing that could happen? He could end up being a daddy and we could still be together or I cut away now and save myself from being hurt again. What if the baby isn’t his? We could still be together but then another woman he’s been with might come along later and do something to jeopardize our relationship again. UGH! Why do things always have to be so complicated?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them. Determination fills them as I stand up straight and hop back into the bedroom. After sitting down on the bed, I grab my phone and turn it on. He was blowing it up earlier with calls, texts, and voicemails so I had shut it off. I almost threw it against the wall but Taren stopped me. It vibrates in my hand, the messages coming through causing a variety of sounds. It takes me a few minutes to read all the texts then I listen to the voicemails. His voice was panicked, at first, then it changed to fear, sadness. Tears that I didn’t realize were there flowed down my face. How can one person cry this much? Not sure I can talk to him yet, I type out a text and send. He wastes no time in answering.
Me: Just give me some time. Let me know what happens
Caylan: Please don’t give up on me. On us.
I let out a big sigh. I just stare at my phone. I don’t know what to say, how to feel. I don’t back away from anything. I don’t give up easily. This is too much. I think about Mom, Tiffany, and Jonas. How long it’s been since I’ve seen them, heard from her. With Mom it was always thinking about herself, finding the next man in her life. She was never one that could be alone. She never had time for us, always going out, or telling us to be in bed early because she was having company over. I wonder how Jonas and Tiff are doing now. After Mom kicked me out of the house, telling me I’d never amount to anything, she moved and took the kids with her. I was only eighteen, had no money or job. I was lucky enough that Pop gave me a job at the bar and that Brock and I became friends. Of course, I could only waitress and help back in the kitchen until I turned twenty-one. I actually lived in his parents’ house for the first couple of years until I could save enough money to get an apartment. They all hated me living in my apartment. Still do. They never liked that part of town. Although, Kane always said I could kick anyone’s butt. I laugh a little at that. It’s funny. For so long I’d always thought I was in love with Kane, then ended up feeling it again with someone who is so much like him, in a way. But Caylan’s changed. In just one weekend he went from a womanizer to wanting to be with only me. How does that happen? My phone vibrates again and I look down at the screen.
Caylan: Quit thinking so hard. I want you. Only you.
My chin quivers and wetness builds up in my eyes again. Damn him!
I set my phone back down on the nightstand and grab my crutches. Tonight it’s gonna be all about Taren. I’ll help her finish dinner and then maybe we can cuddle up on the couch later and watch a movie. We haven’t had girl time since they moved in here. It’s a slow process getting downstairs. I took the stairs that are right off the kitchen so at least I didn’t have to go too far to get to the breakfast bar and sit down on a stool. Taren smiles at me as I lean my crutches against the counter. “What can I help with?” I plaster on a smile.
She walks over and grabs a large bowl and brings it over, setting it on the counter in front of me. “Would you mind making the salad?” Keeping my smile on I nod. She walks to the fridge and gets out everything I need sets them down on the counter next to the bowl. After getting a sharp knife and a cutting board, I’m all set to start killing vegetables. She stops and leans her elbows down on the counter, her face softening.
“You don’t have to put on a brave front for me, Irish. That’s what bestie’s are for.”
I let out a big breath, my smile fading fast. “I know. I just don’t want to keep bringing you down.” I pick up the knife, sliding the board in front of me, grab the head of lettuce and begin chopping it to death. “So. You’re feeling better? When do you find out the sex of the baby?” Small talk. I can do that. I’ve got this.
“Well, I am feeling better. We find out next week
and I’m so excited but I don’t really care whether it’s a boy or a girl as long as the baby is healthy. Oh! You should see this cute little….” My mind takes off as she continues and I keep cutting the lettuce. A baby. Caylan could become a daddy. He’d make a good daddy, I think. He’s caring, loving, both needed for a baby to grow in a good environment. Would he move in with her though? Maybe a weekend daddy? He’d still see her all the time. Will she try to trap him? Make his life hell to get back at him or does she want him back, in her bed. “But then I thought that shade of green would still be too boyish and then what if it’s a girl?” I blink several times and nod. She stops and looks down then back up at me. “Irish. I don’t think just the three of us can eat that much salad.” I look down and see I’d cut up the entire head of lettuce. “Here. Let me.” She scoops all the lettuce and puts it in the bowl then turns around and walks to the fridge. I pick up a carrot and begin cutting it into small pieces when a bottle of beer is set down in my vision. “You drink, I’ll finish up here. I don’t think one will hurt with your meds.” I nod again as I pick up the bottle and down almost half of it. “Your mind definitely isn’t on making a salad.” She slumps, her brows lowering. “How awful of me. Here I am going on and on about our baby when you’re worried sick if that woman’s baby could be Caylan’s. I’m so sorry.”
I set down my beer, cupping my hands around the bottle. “No. You should be excited and I am excited for you and Brock. Really I am. Don’t mind me. Let’s finish up and eat then we can snuggle on the couch and watch a movie like old times.” She nods cautiously but starts to work on the salad.
“You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. Are you still going to the doctor on Friday?” Oh, shit! I forgot all about that. “Well, you should. You need to heal either way and if you want to stay here and rest, I’d love to have the company.”