Perhaps if I hadn’t yelled he would be here with me right now, not laying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. I didn’t want to leave his side, the nurses practically forcing me to go home and change. Maybe it was their way of saying a watched pot never boils, or a little boy in a coma never wakes with his mom by his side. It has been three days. I can even smell myself. He can’t smell me, he can’t do anything because of my temper. Even Franklin’s father, as he was leaving me last year like a cliché for his secretary, told me that at least she doesn’t get angry at every little thing. She makes him feel worthy. My temper has drove one man away and is stealing the life from a little boy.
Something is vibrating and I hear the chimes from my cell phone. Frantically my hands pats down my chest as I discover my cell phone buzzing to life in the front pocket of my worn flannel shirt. I stare at the glowing screen of my old black Android with a number I don’t recognize. But I know. I just know it’s the hospital. I can feel the blood drain from my body and notice for the first time how chilled my hands are. My heart is thumping loudly in my ear as a cloudy white overtakes my sight. My shaky finger presses the green accept button and I try my best to sound strong as I answer hello in to my phone.
I was right. It’s the hospital. I close my eyes and listen, pressing the phone to my ear a little too hard. He’s awake they tell me. The doctors want to run some tests that I need to sign off on. They explain a few other details but I don’t really hear them. I think I might have even dropped the phone. After a minute my phone goes dark so they must have hung up. It’s okay though because he’s awake. It’s okay I am laying in the middle of smashed, icy pumpkin shards sobbing so deeply I hear a few neighbors asking if I am alright. I try to respond but my throat is too full of relief, pain and understanding that words aren’t even a remote possibility. I feel a hand on my arm and look up to see a man. A neighbor? Someone just walking by? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. He is here to help and for the first time in my life I am going to admit I need help. To heal. To learn not to yell anymore.
THE END
Pregnant Girlfriend:
Demetri notices something very different from his usual Sunday mornings of relaxing on the tiny terrace of their condo in the warm June sun while savoring his coffee. Deep, rich with just a little splash of milk. His head dips to see a cloudy but smooth reflection of the warm liquid in his mug. He takes another taste just to be sure. Nope, nothing wrong with his drink.
“Did you hear me Demetri? Are you even seeing what is in my hand?”
His beautiful girlfriend, Laura, and co-owner of the terrace they are currently occupying and the attached condo, with her silky black hair like something out of a shampoo commercial is waving a pink and white stick in the not yet humid air. She is flustered and he can’t help but love it when her cheeks flush and her bottom lip puckers out in a frown. She’s adorable when she’s mad.
He should really say something. Demetri knows how Laura hates it when he doesn’t respond to her questions immediately or ever. But, truth be told, she never asked a question to begin with, she just blurted out she was pregnant. In his defense he thought she was having a coughing attack. She does get those when she is getting over a cold, but now that he thinks about it she hasn’t had a cold in months.
Bang.
Laura slaps the stick on the black ironwork table causing the dog in the apartment next to them to start his yippy bark. Demetri tries to show her his emotions on his face but for some reason his lips won’t move. All he feels is hot, like he is now sitting in a sauna and not the perfect seventy degree air.
“Say something!”
She is shrieking now. His head is telling him danger but his heart is telling him joy. How can he be a father when he’s never known his own? Isn’t that something you learn from your dad or a father figure, none of which he ever had?
Demetri stops staring at the stick and stands a little too fast, knocking the matching black iron chair to the ground. The neighbor’s dog begins his barking song again. His eyes lock onto Laura’s stormy blue gaze and he grins. It’s a goofy smile, not one he is used to giving, probably because he hasn’t had many times in life to give it. Laura is the only one who has ever dug a smile out of him. Now, it’s their baby who caused his face to crack.
“So, I guess we have to buy decaf from now on, huh?”
Demetri gathers from Laura’s expression she did not expect that question from him. Despite the confused glare she gives him with a snort added to let him know she thinks he is being ridiculous, Demetri grabs her. His arms wrap around her petit frame and he kisses her completely. He may not be a poet or even someone who could write press releases if in a bind, but he understands how to show her the joy she brings to his life.
Picking her up in his arms he take her back into their condo and places her gently on their bed, curling up beside her. He nuzzles her neck, “I love you. I love us and I have already fallen in love with our baby.”
THE END