“The first time, I told him no,” Tasha whispered. “I left and I called everybody I could think of. I tried to figure something else out, but my mom needed that treatment. They were calling me about balances, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I went back.”
A tear slid from the corner of my eye and disappeared into my hair. I hoped she didn’t notice.
“I kept telling myself it was just sex. That I wasn’t taking him from you because I didn’t want him. I hated him for making me do it, and I hated myself for agreeing, but every time I needed more money, he reminded me what the arrangement was.”
Making her do it.That part irritated me. Rome had used her desperation. He had seen a woman terrified of losing her mother and turned her fear into an opportunity. That was exactly the kind of man he was. But Tasha had still opened her legs to my husband and came around me afterward as though nothing had happened; both things could be true. Rome could be a predator, and Tasha could still have betrayed me.
“I should’ve told you,” she said. “I wanted to so many times. Every time you talked about him cheating, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to say something, but I was scared you’d hate me. Then I got pregnant.”
My heart slowed and I thought about the abortion and the father she refused to name or the strange look on her face when I asked who she had been seeing all along it was Rome. I nearly opened my eyes then, but I stopped myself and let her finish.
“It was his,” she admitted, crying openly now. “That baby was Rome’s.” The tissue tore again between her fingers. “I couldn’thave it. I couldn’t look at you knowing I was carrying your husband’s baby, and I couldn’t bring a child into that mess. I knew what kind of man he was. I knew he wouldn’t care about that baby any more than he cared about what he was doing to us.”
Us?Interesting choice of word.
“I’m so sorry, Navy. I swear to God, I’m sorry. You almost died, and I’ve been sitting here every day feeling like the worst person alive because you still think I’m somebody you can trust.”
That part hurt more than the rest. Not the sex and not even the pregnancy. The fact that she knew exactly what she had taken from me and let me keep handing her more. I had trusted Tasha with parts of myself I didn’t trust anybody else with. She had seen me bruised, scared, confused and she knew what Rome had done inside our marriage, and all the while, she carried another piece of him behind my back.
I wanted to sit up and ask her how many times. But what would the answers change? Rome had already taken enough from me. I wasn’t giving him the last real friendship I had too. That didn’t mean everything between Tasha and me would go back to normal because normal was gone. I had learned that the hard way. Some things could be forgiven without ever being trusted again. Tasha loved me and I believed that. She had also slept with my husband for money and hidden his pregnancy inside her body until she decided to end it, I believed that too. Both truths would have to live in the same place.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” she whispered. “I don’t even deserve it. I just couldn’t let something happen to you without saying it, even if you never heard me.”
Well, congratulations. I heard every damn word.
Her hand covered mine. For a moment, I thought she might feel how tense my fingers had become, but she only held them gently between hers. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I love you.”
I stayed still and after a few minutes, she stood and gathered her purse. Her hand touched the top of my head before she leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
The door opened and closed behind her. I waited until her footsteps disappeared down the hallway before opening my eyes. The ceiling had become the most familiar thing in my life with white tiles, fluorescent lights, a small brown stain near one vent that I had counted at least fifty times when I couldn’t sleep. I stared at it while Tasha’s confession replayed inside my head. I wasn’t going to confront her and maybe that made me weak. At that point, I didn’t care which one it was. I had come close enough to death to understand that some battles didn’t deserve the pieces they took from you. Tasha would go to her grave believing I never heard her. I would go to mine knowing exactly what she had done. I could still love her. I just wouldn’t ever trust her with all of me again.
The nurse came in before I could sink any deeper into my thoughts. Denise was an older woman with silver threaded through her braids and a way of speaking to me that made it clear she didn’t care whether I was in one of my moods. She pushed the door open with her hip and smiled when she saw my eyes. “Well, look who finally decided to join the living.”
“I’ve been living.”
“You’ve been pretending to sleep every time somebody walks in here.”
I turned my face toward the window. Denise came around the bed and checked the IV before lifting the clipboard hanging near the footboard. “Physical therapy is waiting on you.”
“They can keep waiting.” I mumbled.
“They said you tried that yesterday.”
“And it almost worked.”
She laughed while lowering the bedrail. “It didn’t work at all.”
“I’m in pain.”
“I know and that’s why we gave you medicine before the session.” She glanced toward me over the top of her glasses. “And before you ask, no, they aren’t letting you skip.”
Denise brought the wheelchair closer to the bed and locked the wheels. The first few times they transferred me; two people had done most of the work while I held on and tried not to scream. Now they expected me to participate and I hated participating.
Every movement reminded me how much my body had changed. My right leg had survived, though it still carried bruising and weakness from the impact. My left ended below the knee beneath a thick dressing and a rigid protective covering they said would help guard the residual limb while it healed.
Residual limb,I thought. They had given what remained of my leg a polite medical name, like that was supposed to make it easier to look at. Denise helped me sit upright. The room tilted briefly as blood rushed through my head, and I tightened my hands around the mattress.
“Give yourself a second,” she said.
