It has become the norm for me to sit at home waiting by the phone while Jonathan runs around town making a name for his gang. A positive pregnancy test hasn't deterred him in the least. Instead it has turned a new leaf, the wrong leaf. He won't stop talking about selling meth. He is completely drawn to life his friends lead and is sold out to the idea that this is the only way we can afford a baby. He wants what they have, multiple houses, multiple cars, vacations, buying their way out of jail. All I notice is that each of their houses holds a different girlfriend with their own set of children that are completely unaware of the others. In fact this is the case even for the men that can't afford it. Some of them even doing time for back owed child support, while getting money put on their books from a different clueless baby mama. From what I can tell Jonathan and his best friend Dominic are the only ones with one girlfriend. Jonathan takes me to every kick back, every house party, baby shower, bbq. His friends are not too fond of this, they are convinced I will tell the girls out of obligation but Jonathan assures them he "would never date a snitch." And it's true, I know where my place is and the last thing I'm gonna do is fuck up my relationship for someone else.
Knowing my place...that seems to be a running theme these days and I realize that I am becoming less of myself. I notice it while we are out to dinner one night and when the waiter asks me what I want to drink I look straight at Jonathan for an answer. We have never been out in public together, Only to parties and his friends are not allowed to engage me in conversation. I remembered what happened last time he caught me talking to one of them which causes me to freeze up when the waiter asks me again. I tell Jonathan my order and he tells it to the waiter. The waiter seems baffled but walks away. "Don't act deaf and dumb when people talk to you. It makes you seem like an idiot or a snob." "I didn't know what you wanted me to do." "Speak up I don't control you. I just don't like when you get that giggle in your voice when you talk to dudes. Be respectful to me, but don't be a snob." The waiter comes back for our order and I give him mine. He says a smart comment like "You got permission to speak?" or something along those lines and I laugh. Which is followed by a swift kick to the shin. No matter what he says he does control me. I've estranged myself from all my guy friends and he is slowly trying to convince me that my best girl friend really is in love with me. One by one everyone is disappearing and he is becoming my world. The thought saddens me but the thought of losing him kills me.
We leave the restaurant because part of me can't take one more second of this talk about "slanging krystal" and because another part of me can't withstand the cramps I've suddenly incurred. I go home instead of his place. I feel like an animal hiding away to die alone. I try to go to sleep but the pain is so unbearable I have nightmares I'm being tortured and my brother wakes me up because my crying and whimpering in my sleep keep waking him. I figure I ate something bad and go to the restroom to try to throw it up. Then I feel something wet in between my legs I hurry and sit on the toilet and when I stand up I see it. The toilet is full of blood and clots of things foreign to me. After an hour or so the pain subsides and I know it's over. I grab a bottle of southern comfort and pour some into a glass of iced tea then sit at the computer googling what a miscarriage looks like, reading stories and comparing pictures. I text Jonathan that I am no longer pregnant. He tells me to come over, I inform him I am drunk and he comes to get me. We don't talk about it. We just walk up to his room and get into bed. He wraps his arms around me and we fall asleep.
I dream about a fair skinned, cherub faced little boy with jet black soft curls. I see him at different ages all at once. Newborn, infant, toddler. Laying, crawling, walking. Then I see a small coffin being placed into the ground and dirt being thrown on top of it. Right before I wake I see his tombstone...I know his name. When Jonathan wakes I tell him all about it. "I would never let you name my kid that." He's right. And I convince myself it was all just a really bad dream and that I really just got my period.
*Originally written January 8th 2012
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