Deeper Illusions Page 18

  All of it.

  I was back to square one.

  I was vaguely aware that Ryan was literally covering me with his body, and he stayed silent while I sobbed. Then I said “a bucket, I need a bucket, now.” There was a baby inside me now, too, but now I really wouldn't tell him about that. He dashed into the kitchen, and brought me a bucket, and I vomited everything that I had eaten that morning. I heaved long after there was nothing less to vomit, dry heaving into the bucket while sobbing.

  At some point, I just laid down on the floor. There was nothing left. No more tears, no more puke, no more rage. There was just...nothing.

  I had no more feelings.

  “Iris,” Ryan was saying. He hadn't said a word for hours while I raged about. “I love you more than I could ever love anybody. You're my soul mate. My other half.”

  “Do I complete you?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Am I the sunshine of your life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Got any other clichés you can bring out? How about telling me that it's always darkest before the dawn? Or, I know a good one – what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.” I shook my head. “I should be fucking Hercules by now.” Then I smiled. “not literally fucking Hercules, but you get the idea.”

  He chuckled too, thinking that the worst was over. “We'll get through this.”

  “Like hell, we will.”

  Then he looked devastated. He obviously had some hope that because I made a little joke that I was ready to let bygones be bygones.

  He couldn't be more wrong.

  At that, I whipped out my iPhone and called Richard. “Hey. You know how you wanted to rent out that room?”

  “Yes.”

  “I'll be over in fifteen minutes.” Then I thought better. “Sorry, could you pick me up? I don't have a car.”

  “What do you mean? You have that Volvo. And are you saying that you want to move in?”

  “I don't have a car,” I repeated. “That car doesn't belong to me anymore,” I said, looking Ryan right in the eye.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I'm leaving Ryan.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After I made that phone call, I went upstairs to pack. This was a familiar scenario, as I packed up the cat and a bag while Ryan stood in the doorway, pleading with me.

  “Don't go, don't go, don't go, please don't go. I love you, I can't live without you.”

  “You can live without me. You got Natalie now. She'll take real good care of you. You were the one that she has always wanted, anyhow. And now she has her wish. I sure feel sorry for Nate, though.”

  “I don't love her. I love you. I have always loved you. I knew it from the second I saw you that you were meant for me. Please don't go.”

  “You already said that. Think of something new. It's sounding like your greatest hits now,” I said. “Please don't go, please don't go. I love you. You're my soul mate,” I said in a mocking voice. “Is that really all you got?”

  He just said nothing, but continued to plead with me with his eyes.

  I looked out the window. Richard had just pulled up in the driveway.

  “Well, it looks like I'll be off,” I said. “There are still a lot of clothes and shoes here, and stuff. You can let Natalie have those. I mean, she’s taller than me, but she can wear some of my blouses at least. Not sure about her shoe size. At any rate, whatever she doesn’t want, please give to the Goodwill.”

  Then I remembered something else. I took off my red diamond and my wedding band, and put it on the windowsill “Here. I don't need a thing from you. You can also give these to Natalie. She'll appreciate them one helluva more than I will.”

  Then I ran down the stairs and into Richard's waiting car.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  In the car, Richard asked “Doll, do you want to tell me what happened?”

  I just shook my head, and stared out the window.

  My iPhone was blowing up. Ryan was calling me every minute it seemed.

  I finally just turned it off.

  We got to Richard's house, which was a four bedroom home in a nicer area of town. It was a newer area, with spindly trees and not much shade cover. The house was colonial style, with a small veranda, and a staircase that was just inside the front door. Richard lived there with his partner, Mark, and the place had the definite air of a gay man's taste – immaculate, tasteful, with perfectly matched furniture, embroidered throw pillows, and large indoor trees.

  “Uh, I hate to say this, but I might be short the first month. I have to find a job,” I said, upon getting into the house and putting my bags down by the front stairs.

  “Doll, you have a megabucks husband. How can you be short?”

  “Had a megabucks husband. Had one. Every penny that he has is his own, not mine. I did nothing to earn any of it.”

  “That's not how it works,” he said.

  “That's how it works with me,” I told him. “So, I have to find a job. Thanks to him, I am no longer financially independent.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “I lost my law practice because of that psychobitch from hell attacking me. Or did you forget about that?”

  “Doll, you weren't financially independent before you met him.”

  “Thanks for rubbing it in.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “How much is the rent here?” I asked.

  “$400.”

  I scratched my head. “I can swing that. I wonder if Whole Foods is hiring?”

  “Whole Foods? With your education, you want to work there?”

  “Yeah. Why not? It always looks like fun, and the people there are so cool.”

  “Doll, you aren't in your right mind.”

  “I'll be ok making whatever Whole Foods pays. At least until the baby comes.”

  “Baby?”

  “Yeah. I took a pregnancy test this morning, and it was positive. Ain't that the shits?”

  His eyes were wide. “Are we....happy about it?”

  “No. Considering that the father is either dumb or dumber, and I have no idea which one,” I said, shrugging. “Let's just say that it's not the ideal situation. Then again, I have no idea if I'm going to even keep it.” At that, I tapped on my iPhone, looking at my personal bank account. It's probably either a negative balance, or had been closed because the balance was too low. I probably had to open up a new one.

  “Mother fucker!” I yelled after logging on to the site.

  “What?”

  “That asshole put a million fucking dollars into my personal account. How in the hell did he transfer that amount of money this fast?”

  “Megabucks boys can do whatever they want these days,” he said. “What an asshole, huh? How dare he make sure that you're taken care of, especially when you're carrying his child?”

  “Number one, he doesn't know about the kid. Number two, I told you, I don't know if that baby is his.”

  “You said that, but I didn't know what you meant. What do you mean that the baby could have either dumb or dumber as its father?”

  “Oh, I didn't tell you about that. I was raped. Brutally raped,” I said, taking secret delight in the look of horror on Richard's face. “Vag raped, ass raped. He used a belt to strangle me until I was at the point of passing out, then he raped me. He forced me on all fours like a dog along the floor by pulling at the belt like it was a leash, then he handcuffed me to the barstool and raped me some more.” I felt myself smirking. “So you see, he is dumber, and Ryan is dumb. Ryan and I made love about a week before the rape, so I literally have no idea who is the lucky sperm donor.”

  “Oh, doll,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I don't know what to say.”

  “I do. How about congratulations! It's not every day that you get to carry around a rapist's baby.”

  He just stood there, looking at me mutely.

  “And the kicker is,” I said, suddenly laughing so hard
that I couldn't speak. Richard started to laugh along with me, obviously not sure what was so funny. “Ah, the kicker is that, get this. There's another baby!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ryan impregnated another woman while I was living in a drug house trying to forget dumber's rape.”

  “You lived in a drug house?”

  “Try to keep up. I went cuckoo for cocoa puffs and shot up my veins for a couple of weeks before Mr. White Knight came riding in on the cavalry to rescue me again. He should've just left me there. Anyhow, he neglected to tell me that he fucked another woman while I was gone. That would've been nice to know.” I continued to laugh, but Richard was no longer trying to laugh along with me. “Boy, I tell ya. My life...I really should write a book. A memoir. Nobody would ever believe it, though. Could you imagine? Average girl meets gorgeous rich guy, and her life becomes a never-ending nightmare from then on. Dystopian Cinderella, indeed.”

  “Doll, you aren't making sense.”

  “No, I'm making perfect sense. You just have to listen to me and know that I'm not joking about any of this.”

  “I know you're not joking about this. What can I do to help you?”

  “I'm not sure. I have to buy a car, but my credit is shot. So, if you could let me borrow your car if I need it, just a few times, that would certainly help. At least until I can earn enough for a down-payment. I'm thinking maybe I could try my hand at some free-lance writing projects, so I don't have to have a car for work. Then, once I earn enough from the writing projects, I can buy my own car,” I said, ignoring the increasingly incredulous look on Richard's face. “At any rate, I'll need a car for going to the store and either a clinic or a baby doc. It depends on what I decide to do.”

  “Doll,” he said. “You're account has -”

  “No, it doesn't. I'm opening up a new account. Fuck him and his money. If I could transfer it back right this second, I would.”

  That night, I tossed and turned. How far along was I now? In my first trimester, at any rate. And with the drugs that I was doing, and the fact that I hadn't even thought about nutrition or pre-natal vitamins, the baby was liable to come out with three heads. And I was going to be a single mother now, with little visible means of support. So, I better not be selfish and work a minimum wage job.

  On and on I tossed and turned, willing myself not to think about my overall situation and just to think about the baby. Baby Dalilah. Baby Dalilah with the three heads. Baby Dalilah who might have rapist's genes. Or she might have Ryan's genes, in which case she would be a lucky girl indeed. As long as she doesn't get stupid and sleep with some other dude while married, she would be fine. She can even be bisexual. That would be fine, too.

  Just as long as she's not a cheater.

  That week, there were different things coming through the front door. First, there were 120 red roses, in ten vases, with cards attached to each of the vases. One saidI'm sorry if this sounds cliché, but I can't live without you.Another saidI'm bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts here.Still another saidPlease come home. Another saidThe bed’s too big without you. All of the cards had similar sentiments – sweet, but cliché. Then again, it was difficult to express sentiments that weren’t cliché, so I gave him a pass for this.

  Just the same, I put every rose in the composter, after carefully snipping off the buds.

  When Richard got home that night from work, I told him “Good news. You have a full composter now!”

  Then “Can I borrow your car? I need to go to Goodwill and donate some vases.”

  The next day after the roses came a handwritten card. On the front was a Matisse painting, who was one of my favorite painters, and I read the card once before retiring it to my drawer.

  Something couldn't quite bring me to throw it away.

  The card read:

  Beautiful,

  I know that Nat being pregnant looks bad, but you have to believe me when I tell you that I never would've have done that if I was in my right mind. You are my world. I refuse to use the past tense in describing my love for you, because I refuse to believe that our love is over. So, I say that you are my world, not you were my world. Are. You can push me away, and you can be angry with me. I understand. But know that, no matter how long it takes, I will be right here waiting for you. Nothing can deter me from believing that you are my wife now and forever. I have known from the moment I met you that I wanted to be with you for eternity. I will never give up. And I will always fight to be with you.

  Love,

  Ryan

  My heart thawed a tiny bit, then I remembered that he impregnated another woman while I was in trouble, and my resolve went up anew.

  Still, I didn't throw away the card. I simply hid it in the drawer of the nightstand.

  Meanwhile, I had to decide soon what to do with baby Dalilah. Either I was keeping her, assuming it was a her, in which case I better see a doctor quick, or I was going to not keep her. This was the most impossible decision, because I knew that if she belonged to Andrew, and I would know this immediately, then I would always have the reminder of what happened to me on that kitchen floor. And if she belonged to Ryan...I would cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess.

  I sighed.

  And made an appointment to visit Planned Parenthood the next day.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I sat in the waiting room of the Planned Parenthood clinic, after taking several different buses from Richard's house. The waiting room was sterile and white, with pamphlets in little plastic holders on the wall about STDs, pregnancy, abortion services, pap smears, mammograms, pelvic exams, and the like. On the table there were People Magazines, along with magazines about parenting and a few other women's magazines. I prayed that “my” People magazine was not in the stack. I couldn't deal with that, on top of everything else I had to deal with today.

  There was a woman behind a glass partition, who handed me a clipboard with forms for me to fill out. They were forms about my medical history.

  “What services are you needing?” the girl, Prentiss, asked me.

  “I'm not sure. I'm pregnant. That's all I know.”

  She nodded knowingly. “The doctor will discuss all your options.”

  “Thanks.”

  I tried to relax by looking at some magazines, and it seemed to be an eternity before my name was finally called.

  A young girl with a sandy blonde pony-tail and Winnie the Pooh scrubs took my vitals, and gave me a gown that opened in the back. I sat on the edge of the table, my feet dangling over the edge, and found another magazine and read.

  The doctor came in about 45 minutes later. A man. My heart started beating fast and hard.

  “Is there something wrong?” Dr. O'Neill asked, seeing that my face was probably white as a sheet.

  “Uh, I'm so sorry. I forgot to ask if I could have a woman. No offense, but I-”

  “Not a problem at all,” he said kindly. Then he left, and I waited another hour for Dr. Morgan to arrive. She finally did arrive, a 5-foot-tall woman with a greying ponytail and wire-rimmed glasses. I immediately felt comfortable with her.

  “Now, Ms. Snowe, what are we doing today?” she asked.

  “I'm pregnant,” I said, taking a piece of my hair and twisting it. “And I've had....trauma.”

  “Sexual trauma?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “This is a very delicate question, but -”

  “I don't know if the father was my rapist. I was married at the time, and we had sex about a week before it happened. And my cycle has always been so erratic that I would think it would be hard to get a handle on exactly when I conceived.”

  It was her turn to nod.

  Putting my hand in my hair, twisting it up into a knot on the top of my head, I said “so, I wanted to know my options. I mean, I know my options, but just wanted to hear what they were.”

  “Well, here at the clinic, we can offer you pre-natal care. That would include sonograms, vitamins, and examinat
ions. And we also offer pregnancy termination services, as you probably know.”

  “Let's start with the prenatal care.”

  “We'll start with a sonogram,” she said, as she wheeled the machine over to the table. I laid back, and she put some gel on an enormous wand, and put the wand inside of me. She pointed to the screen – “There’s the cervix, and there’s your little one,” she said. I looked at the screen and saw a tiny object floating there, and I could hear the heart beating rapidly. “Everything looks good,” she said.

  I nodded. “I guess you don't know if it's a boy or a girl,” I said.

  “No, it's too soon to tell,” she said.

  “Doc?”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “What would you do if you were me? If you were raped and pregnant and unsure if the baby's father is the rapist or your husband?”

  “Well, we're two different people,” she said. “What is your situation?”

  “I'm not with my husband anymore. I also don't have a job.” I neglected to mention that said husband was a gajillionaire.

  “It's completely your choice,” she said, stating the obvious. “Don't forget to pick up a card on the way out with our information,” she said. “And call when you decide what to do. In the meantime, I'm going to send you off with a month's supply of pre-natal vitamins, and a list of foods that you should eat, and a list that you shouldn't. Stay away from the sushi,” she said with a smile.

  “Uh, one other thing before you leave,” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “I, uh, had a drug problem when she was conceived. Heroin. I was addicted for a couple of weeks. Is that going to cause problems?”

  “It might,” she said. “But, believe it or not, harder drugs are not as likely to cause fetal damage as more common things like alcohol and cigarettes. At any rate, I wouldn’t recommend that you use that as a significant factor on whether or not to terminate. Chances are that your baby will be just fine.”