I’ve Got You

“She was wrong to freeze you out. It was a stupid, petty mistake on her part. She was afraid that hearing you speak would make her lose the little resolve she had, fall in love with you all over again, and then have the both of you in a relationship which would surely turn stale in a matter of months. And maybe you would freak out and run once you saw the baby – since seeing the nugget wriggle and bawl is a hell of a lot different from saying you’ll look after it on paper. Babies are hard work. Noisy. Messy.” Vaneese chugged half her cherry beer. “And though she had a lot of bullsh*t, there is a valid point somewhere. You’ve been frolicking your whole life with your bachelor sh*t. Dijon knew you as a party animal, humping anything that moved. A regular lothario. Why risk such a huge change? And why slip back?”

The reference to his recent activities stung, and he rose to counter the statement, justify his behavior, before allowing the impulse to die out. Vaneese wasn’t entirely wrong. He did like flirting with the women. He did cast aside responsibility, taking the easy path his dad carved for him. Then Aleshia offered him a way to drastically change the cogs of his life. And when she vanished…

“It’s my drugs.” He looked down at the table, where the little beermats with their boot pictures lay scattered about. “A way for me to forget what I’m thinking or feeling. Whenever I feel… bad, really bad, it’s easier to distract myself than to face it.” He sighed. “Wine and sheets. Means nothing. Doesn’t fill up anything. Just lets me forget.”

Vaneese and Kiara nodded. Faye stared at him sympathetically. The server, passing their table, discreetly eavesdropped, catching onto the peculiar mood of their group.

“She made the first steps at last. She realizes just how much she fu*ked up. I’m not going to sit here and try and guilt trip you with what happened last week. I just want you to know, if you still, somehow in your mind, want to make this work – you have a short window to make it happen. Before she decides once and for all to close up in her shell. If you haven’t already given up. Do it.”

“And stop breaking other people’s hearts,” Kiara added helpfully.

Once again, if he could trust Aleshia somehow, the ball of responsibility had bounced back into his side of the court. “I don’t know if I can stop myself from being mad. I might turn up at her door, see her face, and just lash out.”

“You might,” Vaneese agreed, without a hint of disapproval. “But you might not. Lord knows you two have some sh*t to work through. And it’ll be a huge, sudden change for both of you. It may be too much. It may be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Equally, it might be the best fu*king choice you’ve made.”

A wry smile lit Cameron’s mouth. “I can drink to that.” He raised his glass, prompting the server to fuel him up with another round.

For the rest of the evening, they stuck together, talking, and Cameron slowly revived himself from the fog clouding his mind for the past four and a half months. It wasn’t as if the future had suddenly burst through the confusion and shone light into his face – but he did muster determination, enough to give things one last chance. They had been so close, coming into contact in Miami, even though the timing for Aleshia bordered on insane. Even though Cameron lingered at a crossroads, seeing one life ahead where he flirted and romped his way to an early, unfulfilling death, and the other revealing Aleshia, which had slammed shut on pristine hinges.

Now, that door cracked open a fraction.

At ten in the evening, Cameron bade the women goodbye, and strode with single minded determination to Aleshia’s house – too tipsy to risk driving by himself. Liquid courage rested in his stomach, along with the biting, invasive fear that when he knocked on Aleshia’s door once more, silence would answer back. Vaneese’s intervention said nothing Cameron hadn’t already suspected, but it did bring clarity to the troubled recesses of his mind.

Approaching Aleshia’s house, the one he sought so hard to find for her, he hesitated, examining the half-moon in the dark sky. A cool breeze ruffled his shirt, and he patted down his hair, even though there wasn’t much to smooth off. The light of the room beyond the balcony illuminated the otherwise dark colored house. Standing in front of her house, Cameron took three, four deep breaths.

Then, raising his fist, he rapped on the door twice, waited ten seconds, then did it again. He craned his ears for the tantalizing sound of Aleshia’s feet, tapping along the wooden floorboards. A scratch of nails followed as she fumbled for the door handle, opened it inwards, and registered the sight of her visitor. Curiosity evolved into utter shock. Cameron noted her bulging stomach, with the belly button sticking out. He noticed how harassed and tired she looked.

Beautiful.

Words. He needed words. None came out. They just ogled each other, clueless. He forced sentences out his throat.

“Aleshia. I’m sorry for my reaction last week. I’m angry as hell at you. I’m furious and hurt you just cut me out without bothering to consult me, or dropping me a word as to why. I had to find it out from others.” His hands balled into fists. He ignored her terrified expression, tried to not let it register in his brain the dried tear streaks on her face.

“And, frankly, I’m still mad, and I still don’t fully understand. But I do know that despite this stupid, fu*ked up thing that happened, I still love you. I still want you in my life. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did when you finally came.”

Aleshia said nothing. The breeze danced around them.

Filling up the silence, Cameron continued, slightly rushed, “I want to try and make things work. I want to try and share the task with you of doing something radical, different, but yet so right. You feel right for me. This feels right. And, if you’ll have me, I’ll be happy to consider marriage. I can see us together. I want to marry you.” Cameron almost gasped at his confession, even as it bolted from his lips like a speeding hare. Had he really just said that? He wasn’t even considering mentioning the thought when he came. It spewed out of him, unsolicited, unexpected. He clapped a hand over his mouth.

Aleshia opened her mouth to respond, but halted when a splashing noise interrupted her attempt to speak.

At first, Cameron didn’t understand. It wasn’t raining. Then he looked below, even as Aleshia did with sheer bemusement, and saw a watery puddle under her feet, transparent liquid dripping down her legs.

They raised their eyes to meet again.

“You have got to be fu*king kidding me,” Cameron said.

At this, Aleshia let out a hysterical giggle. “Kidding is one way to put it across, yeah.”

“My fu*king timing! Jesus. What do I do. My car’s by the bar, I’m too tipsy to drive you… sh*t. Let me call the hospital.” Cameron rummaged for his phone, testing three different pockets until he fished it out.

“I liked the speech, though. It was very… moving. I got all watery.” Aleshia’s giggling escalated into full blown, howling laughter, before she winced from a contraction. She had to kneel down, wrapping arms around her stomach. “I’m crazy. This is crazy. You couldn’t have come at a worse time.” She gritted her teeth, breathing hard.

“I appear to be making a habit of that,” Cameron mumbled, but before he dialed the number, Aleshia stopped him.

“Wait. The midwife I spoke to about this said that I shouldn’t go to the hospital until my contractions are around five minutes apart. The baby isn’t going to suddenly shoot out.”

Cameron, still trying to push Aleshia’s fingers away to make the call. “Well. I still think we should call.”

Aleshia winced again. “I’ve been getting contractions… before. But they haven’t been five…”

“Fu*k it.” Cameron punched in the number, made the call, and after answering questions between them, helped comfort and soothe Aleshia, until the ambulance came.