The Other Woman

I feel like a murderer. As if I should be tried in court for first degree murder and be further punished with the electric chair itself.

What right did I have?
What right did he have?

Billie Joe stood there, pacing back and forth like a heroin addict with too much coffee. His hands continued to wander to his hair, despair and dread in his gloomy green eyes.

The results had been produced, and as predicted, yes, Billie effin’ Joe was the father of my unborn child.

“FUCK!” he spat out in an explosive yell, his fist adjoining to the wall for extra oomph.

I continue to sit in the same chair, tears streaming down my face as the realization hits me. I had cheated on the potential love of my life, and was now pregnant with not just any child, but Billie Joe’s, his best friend’s child.

Could the situation be any worse?

Yes.

I didn’t even notice when he had come and sat beside me, one inked arm covering my shoulders.
“Serenity?” he asked, and rather seriously.

I continue to cry, not wanting to speak to him at the moment, but all the less wanting the feel of the human touch.

“Seny, look. It’s your body and whatnot, so I guess the decision is up to you. But we aren’t going to get anywhere if you keep crying.”

I couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. I quickly slap his arm from off my shoulder, anger bubbling inside my core.
“You selfish piece of sh—“

“Whoa, whoa!” he interjects, hands raised in surrender. “I’m not trying to be a dick. We need to talk about this and what’s going to happen.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the most cheerful of moods right now!” I blast into his ears, voice cracked with frustration and anguish.

He flinches from my high pitched sounds before hopping off the seat and exiting the waiting room, thrusting open the abortion clinic's swinging doors in anger in the process.

All I can do is roll my eyes before treading a finger to my cheeks, skidding away the tears. I had already knew my decision, and I'm sure Billie Joe did too, which is probably why he had been so upset in the first place.

For some reason, a void of some sort surrounds me. An ache of emptiness invading my senses, my heart, my womb. I had killed a child that Billie Joe and I had created. And for the sake of what?

Tre.

Was our relationship really worth someone's life?

It was late in the evening this morbid day. Depression still has a hold on me, and to make matters worse in simply three days I would be catching a flight to sunny Oakland to be with Tre. I don’t exactly have the heart to tell him that he should just rip my ticket to shreds and maybe even get a new girlfriend.

Lying on the couch this evening, I swirl around the now melted vanilla ice cream in my bowl. The television is tuned to something on Animal Planet, but my mind isn’t focused on the newfound information of shark attacks and their relation to human behavior, it's on my womb, my empty womb.

Lifting my shirt up a little, I run my fingers over my belly, tracing my belly button with my thumb. The same belly button where an umbilical cord would have been developing, but now isn’t.

A few tears stray down my cheeks, sliding down to my chin to rest against my chest.

A chest that could have been a source of nutrition for a baby, but now isn’t.

The pain that shot through my body when the only 2 week old infant was extracted from my womb was awful. Horrific in a sense. Both the physical pain and emotional pain scarred my body in more ways than one.

My legs had been placed upon stirrups a plastic suction device inserted into me. The procedure took no more than twenty minutes, but it felt like hours and hours had gone by. I could feel the baby and the placenta slowly leaving my body, its soul leaving, and I cried through the entire procedure, feeling like the ultimate piece of shit that ever existed. Denying Billie Joe and myself a child...murdering a baby...lying to Tre...

I could never be forgiven for my sins.

Solemnly, I produce my phone from my jeans pocket. This had to be done, there was no way Tre could see me like this.
It would confuse, frustrate, and hurt him to see how depressed and pathetic I seemed these days.

My fingers begin to tremble as they scroll down to his name, and then the dreadful ringing begins.

"Cool's AutoRepair. Do you need to make a purchase or have a repair maa'm?" he greets cheerfully.

He seems so ecstatic. I pause, not wanting to share the news of my cancellation with him.

"Hello? Seny?" he utters with bewilderment.

A sigh, "Tre, I'm not going to be able to come up this weekend."

It takes him a few seconds to reply, awkward silence fuming over the phone lines.
"And why...?" he questions despairingly.

"Because something at my job came up, and it’s really important." I lie, lamely.

"Or are you just finding some way to avoid me?" he replies menacingly.

"What? Why would I be avoiding you?"

"I don’t know, you tell me." he answers in a dangerously calm tone.

"What are you saying? Your job requires hell from you, but when I cancel it's the apocalypse?"

"It ain’t about your fucking job Seny! It’s about you!," he snaps

"You're so fucking clueless, you know that," I suddenly break down, tears beginning to drip once again.

"Well you're crazy!" he suddenly yells. "You've been so fucking distant and anytime I want to do something with you, there’s a problem!"

My crying filters through the phone, just when I thought there weren’t any tears left. It’s the only reply I can come up with at the moment.

"Fuck this," he seethes one last time, before the phone beeps, marking the end of our conversation and that he had hung up on me.

It isn’t until the next day that my tears finally took a hiatus, that my nose had stopped dripping. I decided to take the day off from work today, not really in the mood to be around a horde of happy and accomplishing persons. Jennifer is at work at the moment, and the house is stoic and empty, just how I like it, now a days at least.

Feeling the need for fresh air, I decided to venture outside the apartment and sit on my favorite stairwell. The dilapidated one that still manages to give a nice-ish view of the Miami city lights. You could always see the herd of traffic and beeping cars from this case, or see the nearby high school and the occasional fight that broke out from across the street.

The breeze feels almost heavenly as it floats atop my skin, and the golden heat from the sun warms both my skin and nerves, bringing on a feeling of relaxing ease.

Picking off the last chipped paint of this particular step I am sitting on, I let my mind wander onto several things; baby’s, Billie Joe, work, and of course no thought was complete without Tre.
What would I tell him?

How could we fi—

“Need some company?” a familiar voice floats through my ears, breaking the concentration I had on my problems.

I rotate my head up, rolling my eyes as they meet with the gorgeous hazel eyes that belonged to none other than Jose.

“Not at the moment,” I sigh, beginning to pick again at the chipped paint on the step.
“Aw, come on now. You look like you need a hug or somethin’” he smirks, that exotic accent dripping with obvious hidden intentions.

“Whatever,” I shrug, not bothering to tell him no again. What harm could he really do in broad daylight anyway…

And so he plops down next to me, sighing as he stares out onto the street with me, the wind blowing through his shortened sandy hair.
“I’m afraid I still don’t know your name,” he grins
“And let’s keep it that way,” I reply briskly

“Your awfully frisky, wh—“
“Can you just be quiet, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now,” I interrupt

“And rude too,” he adds with a smile.

I roll my eyes once again before replacing my fingers atop the chipped gray paint, flecking off the colored chips. He remains silent, allowing our minds to drift off to completely different areas.His thoughts probably centered around drug money, deals, and death while my own consisted of far more important and not so deadly matters.

“So, you interested in buying anything?” he asks, and so casually, as if he were selling watermelons or flowers from the back of an old truck.
“No thanks, Jose” I faintly smile. “I’m not involved with any of that,”

“If you want,” he smirks, and leans closer to me whispering dangerously in my ear, “I could always introduce you. It never hurts to experiment…”
My eyes lock with his, no humor whatsoever inside my earthly orbs. “Look here. I don’t want any of your shit, got it? And if you keep bothering me, you’re gonna regret it.”

“And why’s that?” he smirks, unable to take my faulty disposition seriously.
“Keep bothering me and you’ll find out,” I grin slyly in return, before getting up off the step and returning home.