Walking Contradictions

Kenny sighed and looked in the mirror again. Thomas wasn't going to be happy when he got home with Brad, but she didn't care anymore. The relationship that had once been so amazing was crumbling quickly. And it was time to end it, once and for all. Their second child was on the way and it didn't need to be brought into a loveless marriage.

She paid for her services and left the salon, her head hanging, which was probably terrible for the salon's image but whatever. Her once long black hair was now a short blonde bob. She had finally taken her nose ring out, something Thomas had requested multiple times. She should have stayed with her parents all those years ago. She had spoken to them over the phone a number of times: after the wedding, after Brad had been born, and to announce both pregnancies, but their faces were fading from her memory.

As she made almost robotic turns on her way home, not lifting her head the entire time, she tried to remember the life she had been living before she met her husband. Had she been as happy as she thought? Or was her mind playing with her? No, she had been miserable the past two years and needed to get out and return to the high style life she had grown up in instead of the small apartment in LA with a screaming child and a man she didn't love anymore.

They lived in something so close to a housing project in the cheap rent section of LA you really couldn't tell the difference between the two structures. It would be comfortable for a three person family who didn't want to put space between eachother. Two bedrooms, two bath, a living room and a small kitchen. That was what she had to work with. If Thomas was in the living room, she would lock herself in their bedroom, hating herself. If he asked what was wrong, she would simply lie and say she wasn't feeling well or that the baby was acting up.

And when he said her nickname, it made her sick. Kenny, are you ok baby? God, she was so stupid to insist everyone call her that! She use to be so juvenile and reckless! What girl goes by Kenny? That's a guys name, and she was far from a guy.

She looked up at the five story apartment building looming over her and tried not to cry. It was the most depressing place she had ever seen. Sure, it was an upgrade from Thomas's mother's house, a squatty little shit hole in their home town, but put all the yelling you heard through the walls, a crying child, and a loveless marriage in those walls and it was too much.

The wood stairs creaked under her feet and the door groaned in protest as she went into the fourth floor apartment.

"Hey ba-whoa."

"You're suppose to be at work." Kendra said, not lifting her head. She sighed and pushed the door closed. He wasn't suppose to be here. He was suppose to be gone so she wouldn't have to see him. But then again, she didn't keep her promise to herself and go get the divorce papers started yet. Dammit.

"It looks good. I like it." Thomas smiled warmly, stepping towards his wife, looking at her baby bump. "And how's the little one doing?"

"Fine."

"Are you ok?" He asked, concerned.

"You weren't suppose to be here." Kendra kept herself pressed against the door, eyes wide, head down, trying not to have a panic attack. He wasn't suppose to fucking be here! She was going to call her mother for the first time in five months and beg for their help.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mama!" Brad screeched, toddling out of his room and to his mother. "Mama, mama!"

"Hey buddy." She said softly, picking her two year old son up and holding him between the two 20 year olds. She felt disgusting. She was so stupid to let it get this far. Sure Thomas was her way out of her parents house, but she shouldn't have slept with him, said yes when he proposed, gone through with this marriage. She should have gotten rid of the baby in her arms when she had a chance. She was going to drown him one night but his father came home before she got a chance. And the one she was carrying? She prayed it was a still born.

"Baby, can I talk to you?" Thomas asked her that night, giving his wife an innocent look as he loaded the dish washer. They hadn't spoken much in weeks and when he tried to talk to her, she would ignore him or give him one word answers. He took his chances when she got up and went to the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. He knew she would do that, so he had removed the lock days ago. His eyes stung as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"Leave me alone." She said coldly, pressing herself against the headboard, as far away from him as she could get.

"Dammit, Kenny, I'm your husband. Tell me what I'm doing wrong." He closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. "You aren't happy, that's obvious enough. Tell me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix it."

"It can't be fixed." She said flatly. She had no sympathy for the man she was legally forced to call her husband. Not for much longer she thought.

"Baby, I love you!" He pleaded. "Why aren't you happy with me anymore?" Her silence was all he needed but didn't want to hear. "God dammit Kendra! We already got one kid and another one coming!"

"I don't love you anymore Thomas." Kendra said softly, finally making eye contact to drive her point home. Her eyes were dead and had been for moths. She watched as his mouth went agape in shock that she had said it. He jumped up and took a few steps back, as if afraid she would explode. She held his eyes. "I want a divorce."She watched him start to shake, praying he would either having a revelation that he didn't love her or would finally explode at her. She wanted him to finally blow up at her, just to motivate her even more to get out. She was tired of this nice bullshit. She'd only seen him explode at his brother Mike the first night she met him. But he didn't yell. Not yet, anyway.

"How do you know?" He stammered, his voice shaking. His eyes were glassy. He was weak. Now it was time to finish this marriage.

"I hate this place, I hate our son, I hate this monster I'm carrying, and I hate you." She growled, her lip curling and her eyes practically glowing with anger and rage. "I want a fucking divorce."

Thomas stood there, everything hitting him in the nose at once. The two year marriage was over. Everything had been fine six months ago. She had been so ecstatic when she found out she was having another baby. They had been so fucking happy. She use to wait up for him when he came home from work at the bar. She was so loving and sweet and so great with their son, who adored her. Thomas had never cheated on her, never yelled at her, never laid an uncaring hand on her, never done anything wrong. But she was acting as if he was his father.

He stormed out of the room and let out a murderous scream that had been building up in him since childhood, though the erg to let it out had been nearly gone for two years, but it came back tonight with a fury and was finally let out.

Kendra simply got up, unmoved, and picked the phone up and called her parents. "Mom? It's Kendra. I'm ready to come home."

It wasn't the I want a divorce, I hate you, or calling their unborn child a monster that made Thomas snap that night. It was those five words. I'm ready to come home.

"You selfish little fucking bitch!" He screamed, straightening up and flying at her, but stopping just short of running her down. "You fucking hate me? After everything I've done for you? I got you out of that house! I kept you off the street! I made sure you finished school! I did everything I could to keep you happy! I didn't tell you to get out when you told me you were pregnant! I fucking married you! And then all of a sudden, after everything and another kid on the way, you fucking flip on me! I was the only person who stuck by you! And you fucking stab me like this!" He was red in the face, tears streaming down but his voice strong and booming. "As soon as that kid's out, I never want to see you again, you bitch!"

"The feeling's mutual." She snarled, not at all affected by the explosion that was just unleashed upon her.

Their son screaming was what brought Thomas down from his rage. He went into his son's room and pulled the crying boy out of bed and held him. "You're ok buddy. Daddy's gotcha."

It was decided by Kendra it seems that she would be gone in an hour, leaving a broken husband and upset son behind. So Thomas did the only dignified thing he could thing of doing before he cracked in half: he called his sister and begged her to take Brad for a week. She agreed and was there the next day, begging him to come back with them.

"It's a fresh start. Your son needs you right now." She pleaded, holding Brad on her hip.

"I need time to process all of this." Thomas mumbled. His chest hurt, his head was spinning, and his eyes burned. He just needed to be alone. After Brad had fallen asleep in his arms that night, he had made a few calls and got a friend to bring by several bottles of Jack Daniels, Grey Goose, Patron, wine, and rum. He had planned his week to be filled with drinking himself numb and smoking or shooting up whatever he could afford.

"Da!" Brad yelled, reaching his little arms out for his father. "Da!"

Thomas forced a smile and held his son close to him, stroking his light brown hair. "I love you so much buddy. You'll be back in a week. I promise." He kissed his son's head and then handed him back to his aunt. "I got someone bringin my stuff soon so.."

"Be careful, ok? You got two kids to live for. You don't want them with me, Mom or Mike do you?" She smiled weakly and hugged her brother. "Love you little bro."

"Love you too."

"Be smart." Were her last words as she walked out the door with her two year old nephew in her arms.

Thomas sat on the couch and uncorked the bottle of wine and took a swig straight from the bottle. "I am not my father." He mumbled, lying back and flipping through channels on TV. He came across a trippy music video he had never seen before. The colors were bright and the three members were locked in a mental hospital and drugged up. The song was pretty catchy and the band had a good sound. The scary part was the drugged up looking singer looked a lot like Thomas himself.

There was a quick but loud rap on the door. "Perfect timing." Thomas mumbled, pulling his eyes from the screen and getting and and grabbing a $20.

"What do you need?" The guy standing at the door said quickly.

"Oh, um, PCP, shrooms, acid, heroin, and meth." Thomas rattled off, handing the money over.

The dude looked at the money and back up at Thomas and laughed. "You're kidding right? I'm gonna need more than this, dude. I'm gonna need like $300 for all that if you want the good stuff. And that's with a really good discount. Why should I get you a discount?"

Thomas sighed and shared his story awhile he got the rest of the money. "Man I've been clean since I got married two years ago. We had one kid and everything was fine. Then six months ago we find out we're having another and five months ago she just flipped. After being weird for five whole months and just pretty much blowing me off every day. I confronted her. I'm talkin no sex, no intimate moments, nothing. Last night she told me she wanted a divorce and took off. "

"Damn dude, I'm sorry."

"After everything we went through! I got her away from her abusive parents, my family took her in, and then when we found out our son was on the way, I happily proposed and married her!"

"Dude, dude, dude! You're gonna rip the money!"

Thomas looked down and saw how hard he was clutching the stack of twenties. "Oh. My bad. That's $250, so $270 all together."

"I can probably hook you up with everything for $240 if I play my cards right. I'll be back in about an hour. Have a drink, you need to relax."

"Thanks man." Thomas sighed, closing the door and returned to the couch and continued drinking wine and watching TV and occasionally mumbling about how he wasn't his father for letting his son go.

Forty-five minutes later, his dealer returned with a good supply of PCP, acid, and heroin. "I can bring you the rest tomorrow. Here's your change, man." He handed him back $100. "I told him your son had a disease. He's a sucker for kids."

"Thank you so much, man." Thomas smiled weakly.

"And, look, you seem pretty wound up and this stuff is stronger than you think, so if you need anything, here's my card. And I mean anything, man. I don't want anything happening to any of my clients."

"Whoa, thanks man. Let me guess, if someone dies it's bad for business?"

"Hell yeah. Look, I might swing by the next few days just to make sure you still have a pulse if you want."

"Yeah that'd be fine. I don't have any family here so.."

"Say no more, my friend." He smiled. "Well, I'll see ya around. Be careful."

"Thanks man." Thomas smiled as he closed the door. "Hello memory loss!" While searching for his lighter in the bedroom he found Kendra's wedding and engagement rings lying on the night stand. "Motivation." He mumbled, wiping at tears that escaped.

"Don't wanna remember." He proclaimed, tying the rag around his upper arm and flexing his hand. "Not gonna remember a damn thing." He picked up the loaded syringe and cringed. "I'm sorry, Brad." He whispered, sticking the sharp needle in his vein, grunting as he pushed the poison into his blood. "Fuck!"

"What did she say?" Thomas asked himself ten minutes later as he sat on the bathroom floor, everything around him looking like a chocolate bar left in the sun, melty but not yet runny. "I...something...something....something. Whatever; fuck that bitch!"

The first day went fine with more drinking than shooting up and he passed out pretty quickly. He only woke up because his dealer picked the lock because he wasn't answering the door.

"Thought you were dead, man. How was it?"

"Pretty good."

But that day didn't go so well; neither did the next four days. When he wasn't tripping balls and having hallucinations, he was paranoid and having a terrible trip. He didn't eat much of anything and sleep was either a coma-like black out or light and he woke up at every sound. By the end of the sixth day he had lost about ten pounds and was so paranoid he didn't leave the bathroom. Everything had it's own voice and was angry and screaming. Any time he got near the window in the living room, he would start to smoke and anytime he touched anything it melted away in his hand. So he stayed curled up in the bathtub, trying to ease off of the intensely scary high. It took another day of not moving but it finally happened.

"I'm never doing drugs again." He whispered, rubbing his needle pricked upper arms, trying to keep himself warm.

"You'll be alright once it's out of your system." His dealer said from the door. "Come on." He pulled Thomas out of the tub and took him to the dark living room and fixed him up on the couch. "Just sleep it off and you'll be ok. It'll take a day but you'll recover."

"Thanks man. What's your name anyway?" His vision was blurry and it sounded like he had water in his ears, but he knew only one person would show up.

"They call me Oz." Oz replied, sitting down at the base of the couch. "So when are you going to get your kid back?"

"Tomorrow." Thomas grumbled, feeling a sedation period coming on.

"I'd push that back a day if I were you. This stuff can come back when you least expect it."

"T-thanks ma-" Thomas couldn't even finish his sentence before he blacked out again.