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And I don’t know if she’s right or wrong about that. I don’t know how to fucking feel because I’m still infuriated that this even happened to me and now not only has it affected my life right now, it’s something that could change everything.
It pisses me off that I have no rights at this stage. Adele went on about minding my own uterus, and that shut me up, obviously.
But really, how is it fair if Sienna drugged me and essentially took my sperm and wound up pregnant? This is a moral issue, a legal issue, and my guess, it’d stump a lot of people.
When I talked to the lawyer just before leaving for the airport to go back to New York, they hadn’t heard any updates from Roger’s law firm.
I asked if she could be forced to take a pregnancy test and it sounds like I have no leg to stand on there. It’s also a complicated matter to demand a paternity test before birth.
I hate this shit.
***
And now I’m back in New York and when I walk into the apartment, Jada’s looking at me with hurt slashing across her pretty face. She’s hurt because I haven’t been in touch with her and I greeted her less than warmly.
I should never have started anything with her, because having anyone to answer to right now when I can barely stand to look in the mirror is just too much.
***
I took a long shower and then I crashed early, but I wake abruptly at three o’clock in the morning and I’m starved. I find myself making a sandwich and eating it over the sink. I also find myself annoyed that on the top shelf of the fridge is my lunch packed for tomorrow and I don’t know why that annoys me.
As I’m shoving the last of my sandwich into my mouth, I hear Jada’s door open.
Fuck.
She goes into her bathroom across the hall from her room and like a coward, I make sure I’m back in the other bedroom before she comes out.
33
Jada
I heard Austin in the kitchen last night, and wanted to talk to him, see if he was okay. I couldn’t sleep. I went to the bathroom and when I got out, not only was he not in the kitchen where I’d heard him, there was a mess. He never leaves a mess.
There was the lettuce, a half a tomato, and the deli meat on the counter along with a butter knife stuck in the opened jar of mayo. The bag of bakery buns was wide open, too.
I quickly put everything away, wiped the counter, and then went back to bed.
***
When I wake up at nine o’clock I find the kitchen its usual morning-tidy, his coffee mug in the dishwasher. But he hasn’t taken his lunch bag from the fridge.
I text him.
Hi. You forgot to bring your lunch. Want me to drop it off?
Austin: I’ll just eat it tomorrow. Don’t worry about dinner tonight. I’ll be back late.
Okay, what is going on? Am I getting a loud and clear message that the games are over? We’re over?
I don’t bother answering because it feels like it’d be pitiful of me if I did. Instead, I do my weekly expense report and send it to him. Five minutes later he pays me, a day early, and I’m not sure why, but I don’t bother asking. Instead, I get ready to go to my first writing workshop at the library, hoping to forget about Austin for a little while.
***
It’s really useful to hear about the author’s publishing journey because she’s hybrid – meaning she’s both traditionally published and independent for some of her works, so she gives us views on both publishing methods. She wants us to buy her writing craft book and some don’t, but I do, figuring she’s spending her time doing this free workshop, so the least I can do is buy a book or two. Everyone in the group is friendly. A girl named Raven that’s a year younger than me and is writing dark romance invites me to go for a coffee afterwards. We hit it off and talk at length about writing. I learn quite a bit from her. She’s got books ready to go, she’s just trying to decide which approach to take with publishing.
While we’re both aspiring writers, we’re also very different. One difference is that she’s from a wealthy family and doesn’t need to work. She has lots of time to write and is spending all her time learning about and working on her craft unlike me who is hoping to write but isn’t convinced I can make a living or even much of a side-hustle at doing it. I’m almost envious of her except that when she digs into it I realize her life isn’t all perfect because she says she’ll have to keep her books a secret. She is almost ready to publish, has written a trilogy, and she’s trying to decide between approaching a traditional publisher and going the indie route to maintain privacy with her identity. Apparently she’s from an affluent family and knows her family and even her friends wouldn’t approve of her proclivities toward dark erotica and captive romances with dubious consent.
