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Rent, I’m totally okay with. So far, we’ve only paid utilities, but that’s her fault. That’s all she’s ever made Lila pay, which is something Lila made me take over soon after I moved in. But the rest? Hell no. I stand.
“Hold on just a fucking minute. You know she quit her job, right? I’m not about to take over all of her bills because you’re tired of paying them, especially when she could be working right now.” I turn to Lila. If I’m going to get bitched at tonight, might as well go whole hog. “Speaking of that shit you pulled, you didn’t talk to me about it first. If you want to stay at home with the baby, fine. We should talk about that, but there is no reason why you can’t still be working.” Lila opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “Yeah, you’re pregnant, I know. But your ass ain’t helpless and you aren’t bedridden. You can still stand for eight hours a day at a convenience store for three days a week.”
“Well, it’s not like I can go back now,” she says with a bit of a whine that grates my eardrums.
“Then you better find a way to talk this out with your mom because I ain’t paying that shit.” I face Karen. “Rent is reasonable, but the rest you can deal with her.” Since I’ve said my piece and I’m done with this conversation, I walk out and into our bedroom to leave them to it.
I need to save every bit of what money I can for a lawyer to get custody of my baby. I don’t want to start paying Lila’s bills because her parents are tired of it. They shouldn’t have taken care of her bills instead of making her responsible for them. They’ll be paying them again when I eventually leave anyway.
A little while later, I hear the door close. It takes all of ten seconds for Lila to come into the bedroom.
“Babe, I could use a drink.”
I laugh, totally not expecting her to be calm right now. “We’re both out of luck with that.” I pat the space next to me. “Come tell me what she said to you.”
Maybe she really is trying. Maybe I won’t need to get a lawyer and ask for full custody of my kid.
Small hopes about Lila are always destroyed and I don’t know why I can’t remember that. I don’t know why I can give her little pieces of hope and forgiveness time after time when she proves herself to be a dirty, manipulative, up to no good woman every fucking time. I’ve lived in this hell for so long and yet, I give her chances like it’s Halloween candy. Why?
Why when for a week, with every meal we have together, she puts a shot of tequila on the table? She knows I want to be sober, yet she wants to tempt me every chance she gets. When I sit down to watch TV, she wordlessly brings me a shot and I have to tell her no. She stands there, like she is now, as if I didn’t even speak. Normally, I take it and set it on the end table, just to make her sit.
But I’m not doing that today. She knows I won’t drink it and I don’t want it. She needs to stop trying to fuck up my sobriety. And tonight, I feel particularly vulnerable. I haven’t heard from Idaline in about a week, since I left her house after her grandfather showed up. I texted her earlier tonight and still no word, which is making me worry. What if that jerk came back and has hurt her again?
Not only is that bothering me, but I really want that shot. Work was long and stressful. My nicotine patch makes it so I don’t want to smoke, but I don’t have anything stopping me from knocking this shot back except the knowledge that I’m not supposed to do it. That there is a little growing baby counting on me to stay sober.
But what’s one shot?
I can drink only one, right?
My hand trembles as I hold the little glass and realize I haven’t immediately set it on the end table like I normally do.
“You’re worthless, FC,” Lila spits with distaste, but her words don’t distract me enough to look away from the shot. She started talking a second ago, but her rising voice has finally gotten my attention. “All I wanted tonight was to go out and spend some time with you, but you couldn’t even do that for me. I’m tired of staying home all the time. I’m here all day and you’re too sorry to take me out when you get home. It’s pathetic how you treat me, FC. I’m the mother of your unborn child! You should treat me better than this!”
Her rant goes on and on as she begins to pace in front of the coffee table.
“You can’t even support me! My parents have to pay my bills because you won’t be a man and do what’s right. You’re worthless. Absolutely worthless, FC.”
My hand seems to lift to my mouth in slow motion.
The liquid burns down my throat so easily. Muscles I didn’t realize were tense relax. It’s as if I take my first breath of fresh air in ten years; it’s that good. Before I can set the glass down, Lila takes it, continuing on her rampage. Good. I’m only supposed to drink one. But then there’s another in my hand and I don’t hesitate this time. Now that I’ve started, my willpower has diminished. All I want and can think about is more.
Tequila is all that matters tonight.
With my back against my front door, Justin leans into me with a smile. “Do I get to come inside tonight?” He keeps coming closer as if he’s going to kiss me, but stops himself. It’s adorable. He does this dance after every date. By not kissing me, he’s not pressuring me. He does eventually kiss me, keeping it relatively short. This is the first time he’s asked to come inside, though.
Tonight was fantastic. I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in a long time. I’m definitely infatuated with Justin. He makes me feel good every time I’m with him. He rubs his nose against mine and sighs as if we just kissed. It makes me laugh.
“You can come inside.”
Justin grins and gives me a quick kiss before grabbing my hips and turning me toward the door. “Let’s go then.”
My cell phone rings as we step inside. I forgot to take it with me. I rush over and answer FC’s call.
“Hey. I can’t really talk right now.” My eyes flick over to Justin who looks over my apartment.
A slurred mess of words respond to me. It sort of sounds like he said he misses me. I don’t want to deal with a drunk FC, not tonight. I’m also disappointed and a bit sad. He never reaches out to me when he’s an incoherent drunk. I don’t know if that means I should worry or shrug it off.
Regardless, I say, “Go sleep it off, FC. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
