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She’s asking for me to kill her. She wants me to break and hit her back. I don’t know where my limit is, or if I have one, but I swear every time she hits me, I get closer to it. If I ever hit my breaking point, I’ll never be the same. I will have already failed as a man and as a father if I hit her back. But every fucking day, she pushes and pushes me. My hands cramp sometimes from how tightly I fist them. My arms ache from tensing my muscles, forcing them to stay by my side and not move them.
Lila fucks with my mind, driving me crazy. She pushes me a little harder this morning by hitting me with that rolling pin. I throw back the covers, stand, and rush her. Not once do I touch her, but the monster she’s created inside of me feasts on the fear in her eyes as she backs up and holds the kitchen utensil to her chest.
My face is a breath away from hers. I stare while she takes fast breaths. “The proper thing to say, Lila, is thank you.”
As soon as I say it, her eyes harden and the fear is gone. “Fuck you, FC.”
“Say it.”
She tries to push me away, but I don’t budge. Not today. Not to mention, I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been because the only way to survive not smoking, not drinking, and being with Lila is to burn off the emotions and the urges. So, I workout and exercise. I’m bigger than before, just a little bit, and I’m going to use it to my advantage more than I ever have.
“FC,” Lila whines.
“Say it,” I demand.
“Thank you!” she shouts. “Now get the fuck away from me.”
I snatch the rolling pin from her and stalk out of the room, throwing it in the trash. Why we have that, I have no clue. The only time she’s ever used it is this morning on me. We obviously don’t need it. That sucker hurt and I’m sure it’ll leave a lovely bruise on my leg. Lila walks out of our bedroom and that’s when I notice she’s dressed nicer than usual.
“I’m going out with some friends today. Don’t do anything stupid.” As if what happened in the bedroom never happened, she kisses my cheek and then walks out the door, calling out, “Love you, babe!”
She’s going to be gone? All day? I pull out a chair at the table and fall into it, relief pouring through my veins and filling me up. I could burst with all the relief I feel right now. I can spend hours today, relaxing and not worrying about her. Tears burn my eyes. This is the first time in a while that she’s left me completely alone.
What am I even supposed to do without her up my ass?
That question plays on loop in my mind as I eat and then shower, getting ready for the day. Lila hasn’t really let me shop for Sawyer yet, so that’s what I want to do. Every time I buy something, it disappears. Later, she’ll tell me that she couldn’t stand to look at it or that my son wouldn’t be wearing it, so she returned it for something else.
With a day to myself, I can not only buy whatever I want, but ship it to my mom to keep for me. She won’t have the chance to return it. Before I shop, I mail Idaline’s letter and hope that I wrote what I needed to write. And then, I look for clothes for my son.
The idea that I even have a son on the way is still a struggle for me. I hoped by now that I would be excited about his impending arrival, but it hasn’t happened for me yet. He’s still linked with the moment I found out Lila wasn’t taking her birth control and trapped me with a baby. But if all goes well, I won’t be trapped forever. I’ll get away from her and hopefully take my son with me. I just wish there was a way I could keep her out of our lives forever.
I don’t want to share him with her. I don’t want her to attempt to taint him. I don’t want him to turn out to be anything like her, not even a little bit. He deserves better than us both, but he most certainly deserves better than her. And as long as I stay near her, this monster she’s crafted will always exist within me. I don’t want that around Sawyer either.
Sometimes, I think he’d be better off if we gave him up. It’s crossed my mind more than a few dozen times that maybe my parents, or someone in my family, or even someone hoping to adopt, should raise my son instead of Lila and me. She’s unfit and after being with her, there’s a good chance I’m unfit, too. Before Lila, I never thought of murder. I never imagined various ways of killing someone. I wasn’t an alcoholic before her, though I did drink here and there. I never thought I would need therapy, and I do, but I can’t seem to make that appointment.
She made me weak. Vulnerable. Unstable. Possibly disturbed.
And I’m supposed to start taking care of and raising a kid in about three months. It’s laughable.
My father calls me later when I’m packing what I bought into a box.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey. How is it going today?”
“Okay. She went out with friends, doing who knows what, so I went shopping for Sawyer. I’m mailing y’all what I bought so she can’t return it,” I tell him.
“That’ll be fine. The little boy will have everything he needs once he gets here.”
I nod, though he can’t see me. I tape up the box and sit next to it in my backseat. “Dad, can I ask you something and you answer honestly?”
“Of course, son.”
“Should I be trying to convince Lila for us to give this baby up? How do we know for sure that I’m not just as unfit as she is?”
The silence emitting from my phone terrifies me. But then, he says, “Son, if we didn’t think you were capable, we would’ve told you so. We would not be preparing for you to bring that boy home if we thought you couldn’t raise him and take care of him. You’re in a bad place right now, but that’s because of Lila. As soon as you put some space between you and her, things will get better.”
“I don’t know.” I don’t know if he’s right, if I can believe him.
