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I closed my eyes and just let them haul me off the subway and up the escalator. At the top, there was already a pair of squad cars waiting. I was shoved into one, the drunk dude into the other. A moment later, we were screeching past shops and bars until we arrived at the station.
I didn’t even bother to resist when I was hauled out of the squad car, brought into the police station, and then dragged down the row of cells to a holding area at the end. There were dozens of guys—mostly drunks—in various stages of consciousness in each of the four cells we passed. I was shoved into the last one, which held only one other guy. He looked up from the bench where he was sitting as the officer removed the handcuffs, tossed me in, and locked the door. I glared at him, and he quickly looked away.
That was the most contact I had with him.
The little cot on the end welcomed my completely exhausted mind and body, and I could only hope sleep would come quickly. It didn’t work, and a few hours later I was considering picking a fight with the guy just to get him to knock me unconscious.
“Liam Teague?” An officer walked up to the door and started to open it.
“Yeah?” I sat up. There was a little flutter in my chest as I wondered if maybe Tria had found out somehow and had come to bail me out.
“Charges dropped,” the officer said. “You’re free to go.”
“Dropped?”
“Yeah. The other guy said he wasn’t going to testify, and there were enough people saying he pulled a knife on you. Just get out and stay away from trouble, okay? I gotta make room for a whole pile of drunken morons from the stadium tonight.”
I was so tired, I could barely walk, but I managed to get myself out of the holding cell and to a desk chair where I sat for at least another hour, waiting for the paperwork to be done. I had to sign my name about twenty times, agree that I wasn’t going to press charges against the other dude for anything, and then they just dumped me out on the street.
I was a good three miles from the apartment, and I didn’t even have a dollar in my pocket for the bus, so I just started walking. My head ached, and it seemed every memory I had avoided for years was trying to break through my eye sockets. I counted my steps and then parking meters as I walked by, but images kept popping into my mind. I just couldn’t stop them, and by the time I reached my neighborhood, I was not only wiped out but nearly insane as well.
I glanced up at the fire escape and our bedroom window, which wa
s totally dark. It made sense because it was nearly dawn and Tria had probably gone to bed hours ago. My legs and feet felt heavy as I climbed the stairs. My side was starting to ache a little, probably from sitting in the same position on the subway and then lying on that crappy cot for so long. I was sure a lot of it just had to do with my own state of mind. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to say to Tria.
It’s not like I could look her in the eye and tell her I wanted to have a baby. Maybe I’d want to adopt one someday but certainly not now. Even with the little extra Tria brought in, we could barely support ourselves. With a baby, we would need so much more. That wasn’t even the issue though. The main issue was I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to her.
I couldn’t really imagine her having the kid and then giving it up, either. I didn’t want her to go through with the pregnancy at all, but if Tria had the baby, it was going to be a child of mine.
Period.
In my head, adoption was out of the question. In Tria’s mind, abortion was not an option. Ultimately, that meant we were down to only one real choice. It was a choice I couldn’t cope with, but it was all we had.
Fuck.
I reached the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway. The door to our apartment wasn’t completely shut, and I silently berated myself for not closing it all the way when I ran out so quickly. Tria would have been completely vulnerable without the door being locked and me gone.
In the back of my mind, the sharp crack of the door slamming behind me as I left echoed, but I didn’t think much of it.
I reached out and pushed at the door. I was immediately bombarded with the mess I had made on my way out. The coffee table was still upside down, and most of the crap that had been on it was now on the floor. Tria had apparently picked up her school stuff, but my stuff was all over the place.
With slumped shoulders, I looked cautiously into the kitchen and wondered how bad she was going to cuss me out. I deserved it. Actually, I wasn’t sure she could say anything to me that wouldn’t have been less than I deserved. Maybe I could beat her to the punch, though. I knew how badly I had fucked up, but the shock of it all was just too much.
It was still too much.
She wasn’t in there though the light above the sink was still on. Tria was kind of nuts about turning off all the lights before going to bed, which just made me feel like a bigger shit. I had obviously upset her so much she wasn’t even keeping her normal routines.
I glanced toward the bathroom, but the door was open and no one was inside. The bedroom door was slightly closed, so I took a deep breath to prepare myself and then went inside. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I wondered if I would get lucky enough to have her sleeping soundly. That way I could at least put this shit off until morning.
I was really fucking tired.
Listening closely, I tried to hear how steady her breathing was, but I heard nothing.
I moved cautiously around to her side of the bed, reached my hand out, and felt nothing but cold sheets. I grabbed for the light on the nightstand and flicked it on.
She wasn’t there.
Adrenalin pumped into my system as I reached down and pulled at the bottom dresser drawer—the one I had cleaned out for Tria’s things the first day she moved in, the one that then stood empty until we came back from Beals and Tria finally unpacked. It was the day she decided she was going to stay with me long-term and not continually think I was going to send her away.
