Page 81 of The Last Man on Earth
I stare down at myself as if that will help.
“Your titties are fuller. And sore. And the veins in your chest are real dark blue and noticeable. The nausea and the dizziness, that’s a sign, too.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
His eyes meet mine. “Ari. I got a son. I’ve seen all this with Shemari.”
“Stop.” My hand flies to my mouth, pressing hard. “This is not…I’m not…”
“I didn’t know how you’d take it,” he says softly. “But now you know. And maybe it’s better that you do.”
I step back, shaking my head. “No. No, no, no. I can’t be pregnant out here. There’s no way.”
“Ari.”
I turn and walk away, heading straight for the water. I don’t know what I’ll do there, but it’s better than listening to him.
I can’t be pregnant. It makes no sense, and it’s the absolute worse case scenario here. A baby? On an island? With no doctor?
I stare down at the white foam as it laps at my ankles. Salty tears meet the salty sea. Waves build and crash, furious and relentless and noisy.
But it’s not enough to distract me from the dire situation I’m in.
Pregnant black women die every day in America, and that’s with a so-called first world healthcare system. Out here? Alone? I can’t do it. It’s impossible.
Maybe I’ll just…walk out into the sea. Let it carry me away. I’ll be a mermaid. For about three minutes, anyway. Then I’ll sink. Me and my alleged baby.
But in the end, I can’t do it. I just stand there, trembling, staring out at the horizon.
Pregnant.
The word feels foreign in my head.
I press a hand to my stomach, just to feel something, but I feel nothing.
Nothing but absolute terror.
Chapter 39
Vincent
I stay back atthe tree line, watching her.
She’s standing in the wet sand, her arms wrapped tight around herself. She looks so small from here, and fragile in a way I’ve never seen her before.
I grip the axe in my hand, just in case. Let something try to fuck with that woman. I swear to God I’ll die behind her. Behindthem.
That shit feels weird to think.
I head out to the shore, walking up next to her, standing quietly beside her.
She’s not crying anymore. Probably ran out of tears.
“I know you’re scared,” I say. “But it’s gonna be okay.”
She shakes her head, her voice trembling when she speaks. “No, it’s not. This isn’t…there’s no doctor here, Vincent. No hospital, no epidural, no—“
“How you think babies got born before hospitals?” I ask, letting the axe hit the sand. “It ain’t how you would have wanted it, okay, I get that. But it ain’t the end of the world. Right?”
