Love's Illusions: A Novel (27 page)

I woke up before he did, but just laid there watching him sleep, wondering how to tell him. None of the words I could think of seemed right; there was just no good way to say it. I could feel a tear roll down my cheek, and drop onto the pillow case. Random thoughts rolled around in my head, but I couldn’t hold onto any of them – the only thing I knew for sure was that today, whatever his reaction was to the news, would affect both of us for a very long time to come.

“Hmm, good morning, babe,” Michael said rolling towards me.

I reached up wiping my eyes and cheeks with my hand before he could see the tears and said, “good morning.”

He reached over, pulled me closer and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing… just watching you sleep,” I replied giving him a soft kiss.

“How long have you been awake? Shit my head hurts – Christ, I was fucked up last night!”

I brushed the hair from his face with my fingers, kissed him again and murmured, “Hmph, yes you were. I’ll go get you some Tylenol and make some coffee.”

“Oh no you don’t – you’re not going anywhere. I know a much better cure for a hangover,” he said pushing me flat on the bed, and running his hands over my torso as he nuzzled my neck. Kissing his way down my body, he casually commented on how ‘rosy’ my nipples looked this morning, “I love you Jackie.”

“I love you too Michael,” I whispered feeling my eyes fill with water again.
Goddamn it, this is going to be so difficult.

“Is your head doing any better now that you’ve had some food and coffee?” I asked a little later. I had fumbled around the kitchen and managed to produce a decent ham and cheese omelet, toast and coffee – Michael was on his third cup.

“Yeah, much better. So what was up with you last night – you stayed straight. Don’t you think Keith heading to California is worth celebrating?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think it’s wonderful. I just wasn’t in the mood for it last night. So, ahhh… what kind of plans do you have for the day? Anything in particular you have to do?”

“No, why? What did you have in mind – you want to go somewhere?” he replied drinking more coffee.

Piling dishes into the dishwasher I shook my head and responded, “No, no, I… well, well I was just wondering if you had time…” my voice trailed off.

Michael looked at me quizzically, “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong, I mean …” my voice faded again. He was watching me, his eyebrows pulled together – he sensed something. I continued, “It’s just… well, I have to talk to you.”

“Sure, of course – is it Mary Beth? You said she was sick – is she okay?” he replied. I poured more coffee for both of us, and headed towards the couch.

I took a very deep breath hoping for strength, looked up at him as he followed me into the living room saying, “No she’s fine – it’s me.”

“You? I don’t understand – are you saying you’re sick?”

“No, no one’s sick,” I snapped. Why the hell was I snapping at him, he didn’t do anything wrong. “Will you please stop trying to guess? Shit, there’s no good way to say this.” It felt like I stopped breathing as I turned to face him. “I’m pregnant.”

Michael lowered himself down onto the couch beside me, but said nothing. His expression had frozen when the word ‘pregnant’ came out of my mouth. He was silent – I was pretty sure he had stopped breathing too. He was just looking at me as if I’d shot him – no it was shock. Finally, unable to stand it another second I said, “Please say something.”

“Are you sure? How long have you known?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I had a pregnancy test on Friday – so I’ve known for two days.”

“But you’re on the pill. How did this happen if you’re on the pill?”

“I
am
on birth control pills. But when you were gone, when you were hanging out with Keith, I ran out and missed about a week. I took all of them when I got the prescription refilled, but I guess it…” I had been looking him in the eyes, trying to see what he was thinking, but I couldn’t look at him any longer. I closed my eyes, lowered my head, and felt tears welling up inside me. “I figure I got pregnant right after that – the night you brought all the Chinese food or the next morning.” My throat tightened, and I choked on my next words, “I’m six weeks along.”

“So that’s why you didn’t smoke or drink last night?”

“Yes.” I replied looking up at him again. His face was blank, his voice emotionless. “I mean I didn’t want to add to whatever damage I may have already done, before I knew.”

“Does that mean you want to have it?”

“No, it doesn’t. It just means… Shit, I don’t know what it means. I just didn’t want to do any more damage, that’s all – don’t read anything more into it than that,” I said clipping my words and sounding irritated. My throat was so tight that it was difficult to swallow – I could feel a panic rising inside me that I was having a hard time keeping down.

He was silent again for a moment, then flashed me a serious look, “Do you want this? Did you get pregnant…?”

“No! No!” I yelled barging in on his statement. “What the fuck are you saying? You think I’m trying to trap you somehow? Are you crazy? No I didn’t get pregnant on purpose you motherfucker and
no
– I don’t want it!” I erupted.

“What if I do?”

“Do you?”

“It was just a question – not a statement, Jackie. What if I did tell you I wanted this baby, what then? Do I have a say in this decision?” he said staring at me. I tried taking a drink of my coffee, but barely managed to swallow. I felt my whole body tremble with anger, my hands shook as I watched myself lower the mug back onto the coffee table. He put his cup down too.

“I’m sorry Michael, but the truth is – it’s not your decision…”

“Then why the fuck did you even tell me?!?” he yelled, cutting me off, and storming over to the front window. “When you found out you went to Mary Beth – the two of you have already made the decision, haven’t you? You should have come to me, not her! So what
are
you going to do – find some back alley abortionist with a coat hanger? I won’t let you do that Jackie – I won’t!”

“Won’t
let
me! You won’t
LET
me? What the fuck are you, a friggin’ caveman? How the hell are you going to stop me – are you gonna club me over the head, and lock me up until I have this thing? It’s my body and my decision!” I screamed back, the tension inside me exploding into tiny fragments.

He spun around, came across the room and had grabbed me by the shoulders before I saw him actually move. “Then why the fuck did you bother to tell me if it’s all your decision? Why? Tell me why?” he demanded shaking me back and forth.

“I told you because I didn’t want to keep it a secret… I didn’t want this to end our relationship; I thought you had a right to know, and because… I need your support,” I yelled in his face struggling to get free.

“Money? You need my money? I can’t believe you’re actually saying this to me!”

“Shit
no
! I’m not talking about money – I don’t want any money from you Goddamn it! I meant I needed you to be there… hoped you’d be supportive – I don’t want to go through this alone!”

He released his hold on me and walked back over to the window. I watched him stand there just staring out – neither of us spoke. After what seemed like an eternity, he turned, walked by me into the bedroom, returning a couple minutes later, completely dressed. “I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back later,” he announced opening the door. I just nodded – bursting into tears crying as soon as the door closed.

I wanted to go out too, to run – go anyplace, be anywhere, except here. The inner trembling forced itself outward until my whole body was shaking. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My legs would no longer support me, I crumbled to the floor in the front hall, curled up and cried. I cried until there weren’t any tears left; I cried until my mind couldn’t race anymore; I cried until I was shrouded with darkness.

I must have fallen asleep on the floor, but I have no recollection of dozing off. Waking, I stood up, made my way to the bathroom and then to bed. All I wanted was to fall back asleep, but all I did was toss and turn. I couldn’t think about anything other than the look on Michael’s face as he walked out the door – the shock, the pain, the sadness in his eyes. I knew how much I hurt him. I told him it was my decision - yelled it in his face. I believed that, but I knew it was his decision too. And he was right… I should have gone to him first, not Mary Beth.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop crying. I wanted to leave, but he said he’d be back – I couldn’t leave and take the chance of missing him when he rang the buzzer. I walked around the apartment aimlessly – I tried picking things up, collected the laundry, but was afraid to go to the basement to the washing machines for fear of missing him. I cleaned the kitchen. I sat staring at nothing. I wished for oblivion – I wanted, no I
needed
to get stoned. I pulled the water pipe from the shelf telling myself there was no reason not to get fucked up – I’d lost Michael already, and since I didn’t want this pregnancy, what difference would it make – then his face flashed through my mind again and I put it back. My body started to quiver again, my stomach churned. I felt a rage that began at the pit of my being, welled up like a fireball inside me, and exploded in a painful, chilling scream. I couldn’t stop myself
– it was finally happening – my head was exploding, and nothing I could do would stop it.
I snatched the coffee mugs from the table, threw them across the room – one pulverized against the wall with a popping sound like a baseball bat striking a ball; the other hit the front window shattering it with a sharp piercing noise, mimicking my screams, sending shards of glass flying across the room.

It was beautiful – it was fuckin’ beautiful! As the glass and ceramic pieces settled to the floor, my tremors subsided, and the pieces of my brain found their way into their proper place… My skull was almost whole – all I had to do was collect the fallen pieces, and glue them back into place. But not now – now I needed to sleep. I lay down on the leather couch and could feel the tension drain out of me. My breathing slowed; I closed my eyes. The whirlwind that had engulfed me dissipated into a gentle fall breeze. I felt my feet relax, then my legs, my pelvis and my torso. My heartbeat felt steadier, like it had reached some kind of plateau and was now looking out over a vast open space. Moments later a woefulness appeared in the distance and I slept.

When I woke up I was surrounded by darkness. For the briefest of moments I thought I was dead – I had no feelings in my body, and my mind was blank. As my eyes opened and adjusted to the lightless room, I heard a car blow its horn from the street below, and I realized I was in my own living room. I shivered as a breeze blew across my body and glanced toward the front window.
Oh shit, I broke the fuckin’ window. What a Goddamn mess – I have to call the maintenance guy,
I thought sitting up. I turned on the lamp next to me.
Damn it! I broke my two favorite coffee mugs – you’re an asshole Jackie – a fucking asshole! Get a grip and clean things up.

There was glass everywhere. I picked up the big pieces, then swept and vacuumed, all the time looking at the front window wondering what the hell I was going to do about it for the evening. I would call the maintenance guy in the morning, but it was chilly, and I needed a way to stop the wind from coming in tonight. I finally decided to duct tape a piece of cardboard over the opening. I cursed at myself while I emptied a box full of leftover fabrics from my time in fashion design from the closet; if I hadn’t thrown a temper tantrum like a spoiled child, if I had controlled my emotions, I wouldn’t have to be doing this now. I felt like an idiot. I dragged the empty box over by the window, fished a roll of duct tape and a box cutter from my tool drawer in the kitchen, and proceeded to calculate how best to fit the cardboard over the hole. Some of the glass that hadn’t fallen to the floor was loose, so I pried it out of the rim making sure I didn’t cut myself on any of the sharp edges. Then suddenly, a piece I was tugging on gave way, my hand slipped downward, my wrist jabbed on a shard that was still attached to the bottom frame, and blood cascaded down my arm.

Within a split second a multitude of thoughts bolted through my brain.
Oh my God… I’ve sliced my wrist… maybe I should let it bleed… a quick movement could slice the other one… it would be so easy… no more problems… just do it – NO, NO, NO! Not this way.
I dashed to the kitchen, wrapped a towel around my wrist and pulled it tight. I felt faint, sat down on the nearest chair, clinched my arm up to my chest, and rocked back and forth –
do not pass out, do not pass out, do not pass out.
As the light-headedness faded away – I took a deep breath, and lowered my arm into my lap; the kitchen towel was soaked through with blood, I had no idea what to do.
Should I unwrap it and look?
Has it stopped bleeding?
The sight of blood made me queasy – shit, I had ruined a perfectly good towel - the blood stains would never come out!

I tried to think. Should I get myself to an emergency room? I wasn’t even dressed – I had stayed in my pajamas all day. What if I went there and they thought I did this on purpose? How the hell was I going to explain it? Should I call someone? I wanted Michael, but I didn’t know where he was – didn’t know where to call
.

I decided I needed to see just how bad it was; maybe it was nothing to worry about. The blood on the towel hadn’t spread much more, so maybe it stopped. I stood up and went into the bathroom, got out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, took the top off, got some cotton balls, sat down on the toilet, and unwrapped the towel holding my arm over the sink next to me. Shit, it was still bleeding, but not as much; it didn’t look too bad, but it was hard to tell, the whole lower part of my arm was red. I splashed the hydrogen peroxide over myself to wash away the blood. My hands had started to shake – I was right handed, the cut was on my right wrist, and my left hand did not want to hold the bottle, so I put it down before I spilled it all over. The wound was bubbling, a tiny white foam formed; it sounded like a steak sizzling on a grill. I tried to dab at it with the cotton balls so I could see it better. There were two cuts; the one towards the center of my wrist was small, like a puncture wound; the second, under the base of my thumb was only about an inch or two long, looked deeper like it needed stitches, but at least I hadn’t sliced across the whole thing.