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I just didn’t know that it would be complete and utter hell.
Chas is a rolling wreck. In high school, I kind of respected that she was who she was and made no apologies. Seeing it up close, I see it for what it is.
A selfish, lazy person who wants others to do everything and just hand it to her.
If I don’t leave something for her to eat in the morning, she doesn’t eat. It’s as simple as that. I’ve started leaving fruit and those packets of microwave bacon around—even cereal and milk. Does she try any of that?
Fuck no.
She’ll binge on cheese curls or sour cream and onion potato chips. Her junk food addiction has gotten so bad, that I’ve refused to buy it—trying to force her to eat healthy for the baby. Chas circumvented that by ordering groceries and having them delivered and billed to me. I made the store refuse the order, and Chas started crying, saying she couldn’t help it. It was pregnancy cravings. So, I began to allow small items back in. I come up for lunch every damn day and fix us something to eat, because that’s the only way I know she eats.
I open the door to my apartment and my nose instantly curls. She doesn’t clean, I didn’t truly expect her to, since she was on bed rest. I didn’t realize she’d take that to mean she could leave messes everywhere. Tonight, the living room is littered with soda bottles—another thing I’ve been trying to break her from. She can drink up to six a day without blinking. When she first moved in it was beer cans—until I went ballistic on her. I’m going to have to take off work and go to her next doctor’s appointment, however. She’s not gaining weight like she should, and she looks pale all the time with large circles under her eyes—even if all she does is sleep. They haven’t done an ultrasound on her yet either. Everything I’ve read says that should be done already. I’m going to call and make her an appointment and demand it’s done.
I walk over to the sofa, knocking the piled up dirty laundry from it, inadvertently kicking an empty can that’s lying on the floor. This place is a pigsty and looks like a crack house these days. When Callie lived here… it felt like a home. I let out a world-weary sigh. The walls feeling as if they are closing in on me. Most days I’m more than ready to give up and go running back to Callie. The only thing that keeps me from doing that is the thought that if I wasn’t here, my child would never get the chance to live.
It’s been almost a month now since Callie left and I feel that emptiness each and every single day. I’ve seen her around town here and there, but she goes out of her way to avoid me. At first, I tried to call her all the time. She wouldn’t answer and made Katie ask me to stop. I went by the flower shop a few times, but the minute she saw me walk in, she’d go to the back and leave someone else to talk to me. Maybe I should have pushed it, but the reality is that I’m stuck in my situation until after Chas has the baby. Hell, once she has it, I’m going to have an uphill legal battle to get custody. There’s no way I can trust Chas to be a mother.
It’s a damn mess.
With all of that looming over me… I’ve just let Callie have her space and live her life. There’s nothing I can offer her, at least not right now.
“You work really late,” I look up to see Chas leaning on the bedroom door frame.
“Got to pay the bills,” I mutter, annoyed that she’s awake. I didn’t want to have to deal with her bullshit tonight.
“Yeah, I was wondering if we could get a new television. I’m getting cross-eyed trying to look at that small one you moved into the bedroom,” she mumbles.
“It’s thirty-two inches, Chas,” I mutter.
“Exactly. I mean, I’m stuck here all day with nothing to do. It’d be really nice to have a smart tv where I could stream some movies or something.”
“I’ve been up since five this morning, Chas and I have to be back down at the garage in five hours. You think you can pick up this conversation some other time?” I snap.
“I guess, but it’s not like you’re ever home. I’m getting bored. If I don’t get out of this place soon, I’m going to explode.”
“You’re supposed to be on bed rest, remember?” I practically growl through clenched teeth.
“I’m literally going insane, Reed. Being indoors all the time can’t be healthy for the baby. If I call tomorrow and get permission from my doctor, will you get me out? It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could go out to eat and maybe down to Joe’s for some dancing. Something, anything.”
