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I brought my hands away from my face, slowly opened my eyes, and then looked up at her while I tried to figure out what was happening in my head. Unwanted images of Tria sitting on the worn out couch in the living room of our apartment with a baby in her arms filled my head. In my mind, I brought her a glass of apple juice and sat down next to her, smiling at the tiny creature in her arms.
“That isn’t it,” I croaked.
“What isn’t it?” she asked.
I furrowed my brow as I tried to find the right words.
“It’s not that I don’t want the baby,” I finally said. “I just can’t…I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. Every time I think about it—even just a little bit—I see you there on the floor in the bathroom instead of…instead of Aimee, and it just about kills me.”
“What are you saying?” Tria asked softly.
“It’s not that I don’t want a baby,” I repeated. “I just…I don’t want you to be pregnant. Tria, you don’t realize how dangerous it can be.”
“I know shit can happen,” she told me. “I know there are dangers, Liam, and I understand now why all of this freaks you out, but that doesn’t change what I have to do. I’m going to have this baby, and I can’t raise this baby with a man who throws things and runs away when shit gets hard.”
My hands and feet went numb, and I couldn’t pull in a breath at all.
“Please…I won’t,” I told her. “I won’t do any of that shit again.”
“There’s more to it than that, Liam.”
“I’ll do anything!” There was more pressure inside of my skull, and breathing wasn’t any easier. Even though I’d beg and swear anything to her, I could see it in her eyes—it wasn’t going to matter. Nothing I said was going to make any difference.
“Such as?”
“I won’t walk out on you again,” I promised.
“You’ve said that before,” she reminded me. “You said you wouldn’t walk out on me again, but you did—twice now. You said you were done with drugs, and you used again. I can’t trust you, Liam.”
“I’ll prove it to you,” I said, “but you have to give me the chance.”
“Get counseling,” Tria said.
I managed not to roll my eyes outside of my own imagination, but it wasn’t easy.
“We’re going to have to save every extra penny, Tria,” I told her. “We can’t afford—”
“Liam,” Tria said as she stood up straighter—the tone of her voice deepened a little— “unless you get help, there is no we. I do understand a lot better now, but I am still going to have this baby. Having the baby means I’m going to be spending the next six months pregnant. After that, there is going to be a baby. If you don’t want to…to give it up, then that means we’re going to be raising it.”
“No adoption,” I said. My heart began to pound in my chest again as her words seeped into me. I focused my hearing on her every word, trying to understand exactly what she was saying—trying to hear some semblance of hope in her tone. “If you…if you are going to go through with it…with the…”
I had to force myself to swallow to keep speaking.
“With the pregnancy, then we’re going to keep the baby.”
“If you are going to be part of this child’s life, you have to get healthy.”
“I will,” I said with a nod. “I won’t touch the H again—ever.”
We stared at each other, unmoving, for a long moment. I hoped to God she believed me. I meant every word of it—I wouldn’t touch the shit again, not if it meant losing her. I knew I could survive withdrawal, and I knew I could get myself past all that because I had done it before. I couldn’t survive without her—I was sure about that.
“As long as you are staying away from the drugs, I would never keep you from your child. I hope you know that I want you to be a part of your child’s life.”
As nice as her words sounded, I didn’t miss what was between the lines.
“What about…what about being part of…of your life?” I asked.
Mentally, I braced myself for the answer. Physically, my body was already trying to freak out on me. Between my shaking hands, numb feet, and churning stomach, I was surprised there weren’t a dozen bleeping noises coming from the machines next to the bed.
