“It wasn’t a lie—”
“What would you call it?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
She pressed her hand flat against her chest and I saw it then. Her breathing had changed. Short and tight and her other hand came up to her chest too and her eyes went wide.
“Simone.”
“I can’t—” She stopped. “I can’t breathe! This shit hurts so bad!” She cried as she held her chest.
“Baby sit down—”
“Don’t touch me.” She stepped back. “Don’t—” She stopped again and pressed both hands against her chest and I could see her trying to pull air in and it wasn’t coming the way it was supposed to.
I went to the bathroom, wet a towel and came back with it. She slapped it out of my hand before I could put it on her face. It hit the floor and she sat down on the edge of the couch, then she bent forward with her elbows on her knees.
I crouched down in front of her and didn’t touch her, I just stayed there while she worked through it.
It took three minutes for her breathing to even out.
When she finally sat up straight she looked at me crouched on the floor in front of her, she looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
I stayed where I was.
“Talk,” she said. “All of it. Right now.”
So I talked.
I told her about Sandra. Not everything — not the full truth of how I knew her because that was a conversation for a different time and a different level of trust but I told her enough. A woman I dealt with briefly before Simone and I got serious. One night that I never thought about again. No relationship, no feelings, nothing that continued after. A situation that was over before it started.
Then a little girl bumping into my leg in a grocery store cereal aisle while Simone was standing right next to me.
I told her about seeing Amara’s face and knowing. About the weeks of trying to get Sandra to cooperate and finally getting the test done. About the results sitting in that envelope confirming what I already felt in my gut from the second I looked down at that little girl.
When I finished Simone was quiet for a long time.
“How old is she,” she finally said.
“Three. She’ll be four this summer.”
She nodded slowly like she was counting backward in her head.
“That was before us yes, but you were still chasing and pursuing me at that time.”she said. Not a question. Working through it.
“Yes, I was still chasing you when that happened. You weren’t even giving me the time of day yet and I’m a man with needs. I was young then too. I didn’t know better or else I would have used protection.”
She looked at her hands in her lap.
“I always thought our first child would be ours,” she said quiet. “Together. Something we planned and wanted and built. That was supposed to be mine first.” Her voice dropped on the last part. “And now there’s already a baby out here and she’s not mine and I don’t know how to—” She stopped. “I don’t know how to accept that Gutta. I don’t know if I can.”
I got off my heels and dropped to my knees on the floor in front of her.
“Look at me,” I said.
She looked at me.
“I cannot and I will not call that little girl a mistake. She didn’t ask to be here and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like something that I should be ashamed of. But I also can’t walk away from her now that I know she exists. I won’t do that.” I held her eyes. “What I need you to hear is that none of this changes what I feel for you. None of it changes what we are or what I want for us. I want you to be there. I want us to figure this out together. I know I’m asking for a lot. I know this is not what you signed up for. But I’m asking you to stay and let me show you that this doesn’t have to break what we have.”
