Tapping out Read online

  “I’m just asking. I don’t know why I’m naked… You said my friend was here last night?”

  “Tristan and some other girl showed up with Gina, and broke up the party—sent everyone home.”

  I try to remember last night but it’s just a blur… I remember people coming over, everyone hanging out… but nothing stands out.

  “Whose is this?” She throws a grey hoodie at me.

  “I don’t know, Janell.” I just need her to close her mouth and go away. Grabbing the sheets, I pull them back over my body and roll over away from her, hoping she’ll get the message.

  A few seconds later, the door slams shut. Guess she got the message.

  Bella

  Next morning…

  Great! I’ve missed my math test and I’m never going to make it in time for my English Lit. class, either. I got home and started googling pregnancy.

  When do women ovulate? 10 days after the first day of her period based on a 28-day cycle.

  I pulled out my calendar and tried to figure out my cycle. After an hour, I gave up.

  How many days a month can a woman get pregnant? The average woman ovulates for 48 hours a month.

  Ok… so, does that mean the other twenty-six days a woman can’t get pregnant?

  So, then I googled the morning after pill… and I almost had a heart attack. Sure, most people said it works if taken within twenty-four hours. It has an eighty-nine percent effective rate. But then when I typed in side effects I started to see words like nausea, vomiting, dizziness, fatigue, headache, bleeding, lower abdominal pain, and I started working myself up.

  Then I came across an article where a girl died! DIED! Now, it can’t be proven if it was the pill that killed her but do I really want to take that chance? My mom always tells me not to google shit. I do this all the time. Tristan has even forbidden me from using google because he’s so sick of hearing me tell him the stuff I’ve read on there. But I digress…

  Now, look, I am not judging anyone who chooses to take this pill. To each their own. But if I can only get pregnant two… maybe three days a month then I am thinking I might just be better off praying Marco’s dumb ass shot his semen in me during one of the other twenty-six days.

  I hate pills as it is. I never even take Tylenol because it makes me gag! I still buy the liquid shit when I have a cold.

  So, I close my laptop with it in my head, there’s only a ten percent chance that I am ovulating right now. I would say the odds are in my favor.

  Nine

  Bella

  Present day…

  I stare at the stick with two pink lines, glaring at it, willing one of the lines to disappear. Whelp! I guess I was ovulating during that ten percent chance timeframe. I don’t know whether to go play the lottery or never play it again…

  I mean. Ten. Percent. Chance. That means I had a ninety percent chance of not ovulating on that day.

  Some would see this as a miracle. A cancer patient gets told he only has a ten percent chance of beating it. He beats it. Miracle.

  A woman plays a scratch off with only a ten percent chance of winning the jackpot. She wins. Miracle.

  Someone is in an accident and is told there’s only a ten percent chance of surviving. The person survives. Goddamn Miracle.

  I had a ten percent chance of getting pregnant. And I’m pregnant.

  Miracle? Some would say so…

  Me? Right now? Not so much…

  “Bella! Are you coming to lunch or not?” Tristan bangs on the door.

  “Umm… just give me a minute.” I grab the offensive stick, shove it back into the container and shove the container into the back of the cabinet under the sink. Since we each have our own bathroom, the chances of him looking under there are…

  On second thought, I’ll just take that box with me. Because apparently the odds are in my favor, which means Tristan will look under the sink and find the box.

  I open the door a tad, peeking out to make sure Tristan isn’t near it and then make a mad dash to my bedroom to hide the box. After throwing it in the very back of my closet, I get dressed.

  “I’m not going to be able to make it to lunch,” I say to Tristan and Gina. Tristan gives me a quizzical look. Gina rolls her eyes.

  “You sure?”

  “Yep, I have something I have to take care of.”

  “Ok, if you need anything call me.” Tristan leans forward and gives me a quick kiss on my cheek.

  Before I lose the courage, I drive over to Marco’s condo; however, once I arrive my courage seems to disappear. So, I sit in the parking lot for a good twenty minutes before I build my courage back up enough to knock on his door.

  At first nobody answers, so I knock once more. This time, I hear voices then the door swings open. A bleach blonde skinny chick wearing a tube top and boy shorts stands in front of me eying me up and down. Her eyes meet mine and they are blood shot.

  “Can I help you?” she slurs.

  “I need to speak to Marco.” She gives me a dirty look that I ignore. “Now.”

  She swings the door open wider, her one hand flinging out to the side letting me know I can enter. I see Marco sitting on the couch in the living room, his nose about an inch from the coffee table. He inhales loudly then looks up.

  “Janell, who the fuck is…” When he sees it’s me, his eyes widen a fraction.

  “Belles,” he says lazily, drawing out each letter. He’s high as a kite. This is the point where I should walk away. But I’m pissed. This guy is getting high while I am freaking out about being knocked up because he didn’t put the goddamn condom on his dick before he came inside me.

  “I’ve missed you…” I roll my eyes. The last time he said those words, his fuck-ass knocked me up.

  “We need to talk.” I put my hands on my hips.

  “Marco and I are actually busy right now, so…” the bleach blonde bitch says as she sits down next to Marco and snorts a line of what I think is coke.

  “Marco,” I say, “We need to talk.”

  “Damn Bella, I haven’t seen you in forever and you come in here all red faced and mad. Why don’t you chill out?”

  “Chill out?” I repeat his words, nodding my head slowly while willing myself not to murder the father of my unborn child.

  “Chill out,” I repeat, again. “I’m pregnant, Marco.”

  His eyes bug out then he looks down at my stomach. “I’m only like a month along.”

  “Damn, Bella. That shit sucks.” He grabs a baggie and dumps some more powder onto the table, leaning over and snorting it again.

  “If you need money for an abortion, I can give it to you. Fuck, I can’t even imagine.” Marco shakes his head in disbelief, his words slurred so badly, it’s hard to even understand what he’s saying.

  “I don’t need money. I’m not having an abortion.” I stare at this man in front of me, this man I have loved in some way or another for more than half my life and I don’t recognize him. It’s like he’s a skeleton of himself. The Marco I know would never offer me money for an abortion. He would comfort me and be there for me. He would tell me we would figure this out together.

  “Hey,” he says, only he isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to blondie. “If you get knocked up, you are aborting that shit. There’s no way I’m bringing anything with my blood into this world.”

  Blondie just rolls her eyes and takes another hit.

  “Marco,” I say. His eyes meet mine and they don’t even look like his beautiful onyx eyes. They are hooded and the little bit that should be white is bright red. This isn’t my Marco. I don’t even know this man. I walk closer and kneel next to him so we are eye level. “Leave with me. Right now. We will get you help. I don’t know what’s happened but we will figure it out.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “What about fighting?”

  “That ship has sailed, Belles. And judging by your admission, it’s sailed for you as well. I guess life doesn’t always turn out as planned.
”

  Not being able to be in the same room as Marco any longer, I turn to walk out, turning back to glance at him one last time. I give him a sad watery smile before I walk out the door.

  Once I am in my car, I dial a number and hit Bluetooth so I can back out.

  “Bella? Is everything ok?”

  “No, Caleb, it’s not.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Marco. He needs help. Help I’m not able to provide.”

  Ten

  Marco

  I’m sitting on the couch getting high with Janell when there’s a knock on my door. The last person who knocked on my door in the middle of the day was Bella. I know it can’t be Mathias because he’s once again out of town on business. Janell gets up to answer the door and I put the coke inside the box. I don’t need people walking in on my business—like Bella did that day.

  The door opens and I hear voices but I can’t make out who they are. Then my mom and dad walk in with Janell trailing behind them.

  “I’ve been calling you for two weeks,” my dad says, and by the sound of his tone he’s more concerned than mad.

  “I’ve been busy.” I stand up to get some distance but my dad walks toward me, grabbing my chin in his hand.

  “I’m going to ask you this once. Are you high?” Averting my gaze away from his, I shrug and he grips my chin harder. This time I jerk my face out of his clutch.

  “It’s not your business,” I answer, continuing not to make eye contact.

  “Sweetie,” my mom says only she isn’t talking to me. She’s talking to Janell who is standing near the wall looking uncomfortable as hell. “Why don’t I take you home so my husband and Marco can talk.”

  Janell nods in agreement, and after grabbing her purse, they are out the door.

  “You’re going to rehab,” my dad states as soon as the door closes. My eyes shoot up to his. My first thought is if I go to rehab, I’m going to be in pain.

  “Fuck no, I’m not,” I spit out looking him in the eye, not giving a fuck anymore. There’s no damn way I’m going somewhere that requires me to be in pain.

  “Marco, Son. Please.” He approaches me but I back up not wanting his comfort. “Your mom and I have been worried about you. When Bella…” He cuts himself off but it’s too late. He tries to recover by saying, “What I mean is, you haven’t called or answered any of our calls in weeks.”

  “Bella called you?” I ask. I’m fuming. She has her own shit to deal with and instead of worrying about herself, she called my damn dad.

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are here and we are going to get you help.” He moves closer again, his hands up like he’s dealing with a wild animal. The look on his face is pained, and even as high as I am, I hate that I’m the one putting it there, but I don’t care enough to be in pain for the rest of my life. I need the drugs. They numb me. They numb my mind and my body.

  “Marco, we love you. We need you to get help. Please. Your family. Your friends. Bella. Tristan. Your sisters. We are all here for you.” I contemplate what he’s saying for a moment. When I watched Bella walk out the door, slamming it shut behind her, I considered chasing after her. But I knew she was better off without me in her life. She needed someone like Tristan, and she sure as fuck didn’t need me. The truth is, none of these people need me.

  And then it hits me, I have officially become my mother’s son. And no, I’m not referring to the woman who raised me for the last thirteen years. I’m talking about my biological mother, the one who needed drugs for most of my life. The woman I swore I would never become.

  You always hear the saying, nature over nurture. Guess they were right, because here I am, high as fuck needing the drugs. Guess I’m more like my mom than I wanted to admit.

  “I want you to get out,” I say. Caleb looks at me with wide eyes.

  “Marco, don’t do this.”

  “Get out!” I boom. I get up in his face, which is a mistake. We might be built similar but Caleb isn’t high or injured like I am.

  “You need help, Son,” he begs.

  “I’m not your goddamned son! Now get out!” I stalk toward the door and open it for him but he refuses to leave. So, without saying another word, I walk out the door, slamming it closed behind me. As soon as I’m down the stairs I hit the beach and call Janell’s brother, Ivan. He answers on the second ring.

  “What’s up?”

  “I need you to pick me up. Down at Gazpacho’s.” It’s a bit of a walk from my place but I need to get away from Caleb. He doesn’t get it. None of them do. I always knew I was tainted, that blood is thicker than water. But now, it’s confirmed. I never stood a fucking chance against biology.

  Eleven

  Bella

  A few months later…

  “Bella, if we don’t get going soon, we are going to be late.”

  “I know. I know. Sorry! I freaking sneezed too hard and peed my pants. I had to jump back in the shower and change my clothes.” I run around my room frantically, making sure I have everything. Cell phone. Pregnancy book. Workout bag for afterward.

  We get to the appointment right on time and the nurse brings us back immediately. After doing my monthly weigh-in and bloodwork, she takes me back to a different room.

  “Go ahead and take your clothes off from the waist down and put this gown on. The doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

  After changing and sitting down on the table, we wait. Not even two minutes later there’s a knock on the door and the doctor walks in.

  “Good morning, Bella. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Ruben asks.

  “I’m doing good.” I look down at my protruding belly and rub it. I am now twenty weeks pregnant which means if all goes well we should be able to find out the sex of the baby. It won’t be the first ultrasound I’ve had but at least this one will be a more positive occasion. It’s been a rocky four months but it feels like lately life has been going a bit smoother.

  “And I don’t believe we have met before. I’m Dr. Ruben.” My obstetrician puts his hand out to shake Tristan’s.

  “This is Tristan. He’s…” I clear my throat. “…the father of the baby.”

  “Nice to meet you. And I see you are now twenty weeks. Are you ready to see your baby?”

  “Yes, I am.” I hold my breath as Dr. Ruben pulls my gown down and squirts the warmed-up gel onto my belly. When he takes the wand, and rubs the gel in, spreading it over my belly, my heart picks up like it does every time— praying there will be a heartbeat. When I finally hear the beautiful sound of whoosh whoosh whoosh, I feel like I can breathe again.

  “The baby’s heart beat is running at one hundred and fifty beats per minute right now. Good strong heartbeat.” Good. Strong. Heartbeat. I will never tire of hearing those words. Especially, after experiencing the most frightening day of my life a few months ago when I thought I might not ever get to hear my baby’s heartbeat.

  “Where the fuck is she?” I’m standing behind the front door where Marco can’t see me but my car is in the parking lot so he knows I’m here.

  “Marco… you need to calm down, man.” Tristan tries to stop Marco from entering our apartment but it’s pointless. Marco is bigger and stronger. He slams his fist against the door and stalks into the apartment looking for me. When his eyes lock with mine, his lip curls with disgust.

  “You fucking bitch! What the fuck were you thinking, calling my dad and telling him I’m a fucking druggy? What fucking business is it of yours!”

  I back up a little as he comes closer, and luckily Tristan steps in front of me. “Marco!” Tristan booms. “You do have a fucking drug problem. Bella was just trying to help. We are your friends.”

  Marco glares at Tristan and says, “She’s not my friend. She’s nothing to me.” Then he locks eyes with me. “You have enough problems of your own to be worrying about me. Focus on your fucking self.”

  “Marco, leave,” I say quietly hoping he won’t say what I think he is about to
say.

  “Why? Afraid pretty boy here will learn the truth? Or wait… did you end up doing what I suggested after all?” He looks down at my stomach.

  “Bella, what’s he talking about?” Tristan turns toward me.

  Marco chuckles as he smiles saccharinely. “Oh, this is great! You had time to call Caleb and stir up shit but you forgot to mention to your best friend here that you’re knocked up.” Caleb had warned me he accidentally let my name slip out when he tried to get Marco help. He apologized and told me Marco left. He’s text me a few times since then letting me know nobody has heard from Marco. I figured he would be mad I told his dad about his drug problem but I didn’t think he would show up here to confront me.

  Tristan whips his head around at me in shock, his eyes going wide. I shake my head softly, silently begging him not to get into this right now. He gives me a look asking if it’s true and I close my eyes, giving him a small nod. When I open my eyes back up he gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “So, which is it Bella? Did you have an abortion like I suggested, or is your fighting career over before it even started? And while I’m thinking about it, who the fuck is your baby’s daddy? Because if the look Tristan just made tells me anything, he’s not the one who knocked you up… and I sure as fuck didn’t knock you up.”

  “What do you even care?” Tristan asks confused. Marco just chuckles and shakes his head.

  “So, Bella… tell us. I mean you got in my business so it’s only fair I know yours.”

  “I-I’m having the baby,” I admit, and Tristan does a good job of keeping his composure.

  “And who’s the lucky guy? Who’s the guy that’s fucked for life?” Hot tears build and I will them away. As I am about to tell him, it’s none of his business, Tristan says, “I am. So, worry about yourself.”