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You can’t get pregnant, Shayla, a voice in my head screams into a microphone. I’m broken; my ovaries don’t work. I have cysts and tumors growing and killing my eggs before they can even cycle through.
I know I’m not ready to have kids and most women in my situation who aren’t ready would feel relieved. But not me—no, it just adds another blow to my already bruised body.
After scrubbing my body over and over again, cursing at it for hating me, and throwing myself a pity party, I get out and dress with renewed frustration. How do I tell Trey this? I mean really. How do you tell someone something that is sure to destroy them when you’re still dealing with your personal destruction?
I spend a few hours racking my brain, lying in bed just to wallow more, sleep comes painfully slow, but it comes.
WAKING UP THE NEXT MORNING, I see Trey isn’t in bed next to me, this has been happening all week, and I usually find him in the living room, with some sort of alcoholic beverage. But today, I find something worse—in my opinion. Making my way into the living room, I see him sitting on the couch and my eyes bulge out of my head when I see the devil’s mistress herself. Gwen. How does she know where I live? How did she know Trey would be here? And why in the hell is she here?
“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up to my place and harassing Trey.” I stand my ground, shaking my head in disbelief. How can this woman muster up enough courage to show up? That and how is she not ashamed? She left her family behind. Doesn’t she feel the least bit sad? Her smile isn’t that of a woman who left her family years ago. I pace quickly toward Trey, halting behind the couch where he sits, my arms crossing over my chest. When I get there, he pivots in his seat, turning to face me.
“No, baby, it’s okay, I let her in. I decided we needed to talk.”
I’m not hearing him right. Why does it feel like I just walked into an episode of the freaking Brady Bunch? I look at him and my eyebrows lift, flashing red lights and alarm bells going off in my head.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah, last night I had this epiphany that I owed it to my dad to at least hear her out and talk to her.”
“And what did we decide—she’s still a terrible woman and an unfit mother?” I say, throwing her a smug glance.
“Shayla! Stop being like that, it’s for the better, her and I are going to start going to counseling together. Shay, she wants to be in my life, in our lives.” He signals his hand between us before reaching his hand out to grab mine. I feel my brain explode, this isn’t right, something tells me not to trust this woman, she’s up to no good and my boyfriend may be blinded by his vulnerability, but my eyesight is pretty fucking clear.
How long has she been here manipulating him? I mean she must have words like Gandhi to convince him in a short amount of time to forgive eighteens years of emotional damage. I’m onto you. I eye her up and down, knowing she senses what I’m thinking, because she takes a deep swallow before mustering up another fake smile.
“Can we talk when she
leaves?” I say, unfolding my arms, ignoring his hand. I know it’s bitchy, but I’m pissed. I’m pouting, carelessly. I need to find out what this woman said and how deep she has sunk her claws into Trey.
“Yeah, go in the bedroom, I’ll be there in a minute,” he states firmly, making me feel like I’m the bad guy. Why is he casting me out? Is he forgetting who that woman is?
I go to the fridge, grab a water, and leave them to talk. I walk to Lana’s room, I need to run this crap by her and release some pent-up anger, because whatever freak show is happening back in the living room of my apartment is way too much for me to keep bottled up. I approach her room and open the door without knocking by habit. I regret it, losing my water when I spit it out. I see my brother between her legs, going down on her. Oh my heck, that’s so not what I needed to see!
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” They both look over to where I’m standing. I shut the door fast and run to my room, blushing, I can’t believe I just saw that! Yuck!
Can I just hit redo on this day, or even the dang snooze button?
MAKING MY WAY TO THE bathroom to get ready, I hear Trey enter the room and call out to me.
“I’m in here,” I answer blandly. He comes to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded. I had a plan, I knew what I was going to say, but looking at him now, I don’t even know where to start.
“Why were you so upset when you saw my mom?” Mom? When did that apply to anyone but Kathy? This just gets better and better. His question sounds so normal, like his mom is just another person in his life, not the woman who abandoned him. The one who he has blamed, tirelessly, for all of his shortcomings, commitment issues, and the many times he nearly lost me from his jealousy.
“Really? Trey, why was she in my apartment? Better yet, how the hell did she know where I live?” My vexing questions sound more demanding than curious, which is intentional. I’m not sure how he can even let her in or give a quick hello, let alone an entire therapy session on my couch followed by breaking bread.
“She wanted to talk about everything that happened and why she left. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” Is he serious?
“Not a big deal? Did you fall and hit your head this morning?” That has to be the only logical reason he’s even trying to rationalize this with me. He shifts slightly so his body is taking up the entire entryway of the bathroom, likes he’s trying to prevent me from leaving. Good, because I’m about to shove his big body out of the way and leave. I feel caged in, in this large bathroom.
I narrow my eyes in his direction and wait for this completely insane theory of lies that she had to have fed him.
“Babe, she’s really ashamed of everything she did, she wanted me to have a better life and knew she couldn’t provide it to me, so she left.” He pauses and moves a little closer to me, taking tiny measured steps and gauging my reaction. I step back, trying to avoid him touching me, I get easily distracted when his hands are on me. As much as I miss him, I want to hear what could possess him to forgive that woman.
“Ashamed that she did drugs and drank, or ashamed that she left you and your dad without so much as a second glance?” I cross my arms and limply shrug my shoulders, not wavering.
“Both. Listen, I know that I have no reason to forgive her, but don’t you think I need to at least try?” He looks at me sincerely. I really don’t know what to say. He’s been lost the past week without his father, maybe me trying to push him away from his mom isn’t the best move to make. On the other hand, I feel like if I let him try this, it’ll be me watching him walk into the lion’s den. Hell, I don’t know!
“Trey, why after all this time? Doesn’t that worry you?” His blue eyes flick to me and they flash with hurt.
