Page 32 of My Monster, My Choice

“We can’t,” he grits. “We’ll get her into the car. Take her to the hospital two towns over.”

“We can’t both leave,” mother says. “What will people think? They’ll know why we’re leaving.”

“You can’t lift her by yourself,” he scowls. “Besides, what will you say?”

“Take Gary,” she decides.

Carlton’s father. It’s he and my own father who paid for the abortion, splitting it equally since the baby was mine and Carlton’s.

To the man who wasn’t even a doctor.

“Go call him,” father says. “I’ll put her in the backseat. Tell him we’ll be at his place in ten minutes, to wait out in the field and to hop into the car. She’ll be lying down so no one should see.”

It didn’t even feel like they cared if I lived or died. They were just concerned that someone might know.

But what did I expect? They didn’t care if my baby died.

And yet, something deep down inside me knew it was for the best. I couldn’t raise a baby on my own and have a favorable outcome. It wasn’t just my life I was ruining, but his too. Fatherless, disowned by his family, a mother who would have to whore herself out on the streets. My brothers might feed me, take me in, but it would hurt their thriving business if we were to get caught on their property. And how could one hide a toddler in the attic? In the basement?

A month earlier I’d been so happy. I’d told Carlton to get well soon. He’d had one of his episodes—the illness had come quickly, and harder within the last year. Stomach incidents that left him vomiting uncontrollably, his skin growing pale and wan. I’d told him we’d get married on the day he turned nineteen, and that we were going to have a baby. We’d have to fudge a couple months off the birthdate and say he came early. Or maybe have him in another town and stay away for a month—pretend he was big for his age. But it was manageable. He’d smiled at me, ecstatic with the news, said we were going to be so happy.

The next morning, he was gone.

I didn’t have time to get used to the shock of his death because he’d blurted out on his deathbed that I was carrying his child. His father kept me away while he was dying.

“Mom? Mom, you okay?” Tera asks.

I jerk back to the present.

“Yes,” I breathe. “I can’t wait to be a grandma. He or she can call me anything their little heart wants.”

Tera gives me the most loving smile and takes my hand. My fingers feel icy cold, but she kisses them and holds them to her lap as if warming me up.

And the conversation is changed.

So is my heart. I love Elex so much and I know I have to lose him, just like I lost Carlton. It’s not in my cards to have a loving relationship. A loving husband, a loving mate. I’m lucky I had the one lousy marriage I did have. Those are the hands fate dealt me.

I’ll enjoy one last month with him. When he has to return to Pimeon, I’ll break it gently.

I’ll tell him we need a break.

What I don’t count on is Kenny. Somehow, the little man senses what’s going on and clings to Elex. He tells me how strong he is. How big. How wonderful.

He’s referred to him as Pappy Elex, which I’ve hushed countless times, afraid Elex will hear it. The last thing I need is for Elex to think we’re going to be a family.

We can’t be a family. Not now that I know the Adroki are here for procreation, and I can never give him that. He’s better off with one of the dancers.

Part of me feels weepy and stressed. Elex leaves at the end of the month, and I have to come up with a plan to break things off.

Elex:

I love watching her sleep. Her face is relaxed and she’s a cuddler. A lock of hair falls over her forehead and as I brush it away, the scent of lavender in bloom wafts up as if reaching for me.

Christina always smells of Earth flowers and the herbs she cultivates. I wonder if we lived on Pimeon, would she smell likede’flodia? Ofmarishnia? The sweet, citrusy bloom of thetshoragtree?

I think so. The delicate female attracts sweet scents, even when she’s surrounded by herbal remedies.

And I was wrong, so wrong. I thought with the President’s death—or what we refer to as his death, since it’s inevitable now—that the rough patch human females go through would dissipate immediately since there was no one left to blackmail her. To threaten her. To make her feel worthless.

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