Page 29 of Enough
My brows furrow with confusion. “Are you kidding me?”
Mike begins to pace again. “I knew I should have just stayed away from you! You’re fucking poison! I swear you could get pregnant with a single look!”
“Fuck you!” I shout.
“No thanks. Fucking you is what continues to get me into trouble. Another fucking mouth to feed. Jesus, Everly. I wish I would have known you were Fertile Myrtle when I met you. I would have run the other way!”
I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“This whole thing with going back to school and helping out with bills was just another setup, wasn’t it? Just like the last time. It’s funny how every time you mention helping out around here, you end up pregnant!” Mike laughs to himself, and I can see he’s becoming more and more crazed with every word out of his mouth.
My heart hurts. I didn’t intentionally get pregnant. Ever. I slump down into the couch.
“I love the kids. I really do…” he continues. “But do you realize what you’ve done to me?” he asks.
I stare at the ground. I feel like there isn’t enough air for the both of us. He seems to be angryandout of his mind. It’s a frightening combination.
“We were supposed to have one kid! One! I promised my parents I’d stay married to you for five years. Then, just when I’m almost free, they go and sweeten the deal when you get pregnant yet again.”
“Huh?” I ask. My eyes search his in fear.
“Oh yeah!” He nods as he paces. Remember when you had Kay call them? Well, they said if I didn’t marry you, they’d cut me off. No more school. No more money. My dadsaid he could get me a job in his factory. Ha! Can you imagine these hands molding wire?” He holds up his soft hands, and I notice his nails look better than mine.
I refocus on my nails.Parents forced him…My left nail is jagged.Stay with me for five years…There’s a hangnail on my pinky finger.
“Ihadto marry you. I convinced myself the sex was good enough and I would be out in a few years with the rest of my life ahead of me. I encouraged you to go back to school so you’d be able to support yourself. I was going to take Kale with me. My parents said they’d watch him while I worked. But then you end up pregnant, again, and instead of moving on with my life, I’m back at square one: off for my master’s degree, compliments of my parents’ attempt to keep their grandkids close. Now here I am. Back in the same vicious circle. I pity-fuck you and you’re pregnant? How many more years of torture am I supposed to take? When do I get to livemylife?” He paces the room and his hands fly around his head as he speaks. Then he thuds forward and points his finger in my face.
“Well, fuck this! I can’t do it anymore. You want your baby? Then have it, but I don’t want it and I don’t want you!”
Mike grabs his keys, and before I can summon the will to raise my head, I hear the door slam. He’s gone.
Nails look terrible…
When does he get to live his life?
Where’s my nail file?
I don’t want it or you…
I stand and stumble toward the bathroom. I open the medicine cabinet and my hands search for something. I can’t remember why I came in here. My eyes are focused on a markon the wall.He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want the baby. Parents forced him to… to… marry me?
I’m hyperventilating or maybe having a panic attack. I can’t breathe. I feel tears spill down my cheeks.All these years? He was going to take Kale from me?My eyes dart toward the door, and I picture Mike standing in front of a judge, calling me unfit and unable to support a child. I see Mike walking away with Kale and Marlow in his arms. The room starts to spin, and I grasp on to the sink and lower myself to the floor.They’re mine. My babies! Mine!Can’t breathe.
I press my cheek into the cool linoleum, and for a second, I feel better. Then the cramps remind me I’m not feeling well. Now the pain is everywhere. I heave with sobs. I curl up into a ball. I’m not sure how long I lie there. Time seems to be a blur.
The next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground outside my Grandma Kay’s house. I can barely move. My head feels heavy and I don’t feel well. I see the red paint can with a brush on top. I stretch out for it, but it’s just out of my reach. I pull my body along the grass and feel the tip of the brush on my fingers. It’s hard and crusty, like it’s never been rinsed. It’s dirty and dark like my marriage. I muster all my strength and hurl my hand toward it. I knock over the paint can and the red paint washes over me. I’m covered in red, and it burns. My skin is wet and burning.
My eyes flicker open. I’m on the floor in the bathroom. I feel damp, like in my dream. I force myself up on my arms and try to take deep breaths. I have to pull myself together. The kids are upstairs. I need to check on them.
I push myself off the floor, and that’s when I see the red paint. Only it’s not paint—it’s blood, and I’m covered in it. The minute I stand, the pain in my abdomen gets worse. I thinkto call out to the kids for help, but they’d be so scared. I stumble into the kitchen, holding on to the walls, and reach my cell phone. I call Gwen, and she answers on the second ring.
“Hey! What did he say?”
“Gwen!” I try to say her name, but I’m only able to make thegand thew.
“Ev? You okay?”
“Bleeding. The baby.”
