Chapter 14
I watched his chest rise and fall painfully slowly. There were all kinds of wires taped to his chest and a thin white tube stuck to his top lip. They said it was to help him breathe. They said it could take a day or two for him to get enough strength back in his body to even open his eyes.
They also said that only a big amount of stress would cause such an attack to his heart. At his age, too. Twenty five, they said, was a young age for such heart attacks - even minimal ones. It was obvious for the way the nurse looked at me that she thought it was my fault - I thought it was my fault. It was too much to ask for him to break off the engagement. I knew it had been a stupid request as soon as it left my mouth. He'd told me so before hadn't he? He'd told me that he'd marry her and then divorce her as soon as he could.
I knew he wasn't marrying her for the money he knew he'd get. I knew he was marrying her to hide the fact that he loved me. I knew that if people found out, then our whole lives would be messed up.
I watched his chest rise and fall again and wondered if he would ever want to see me again.
I sighed and dropped my chin onto my knees which were tightly drawn up to my chest.
I continued to watch him, hoping he wouldn't leave me.
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Month 2
I've decided to keep an account of my life until now for you, little one. It's only fair that you should know my story and why you're here inside me, and in seven months time you'll be in my arms finally.
So here's the account of when I was six:
Mother and Father never got on. They were always fighting and Mack would sometimes (Always) get angry at me for cowering in my bedroom and not standing at the stairs, listening to them. I guess he was right, but what was a five year old supposed to do?
I remember it clearly though, the day I decided I was woman enough to sit at the stairs with Mack and listen to my parents.
Of course, it had to turn out that I was better off not knowing.
My father was angry that he had to look after me when my mother was out clubbing with her friends.
It was normal for me to come home and find my parent's arguing. There isn't much a five year old girl can do to stop them, anyway.
Mike was sitting on the stairs, listening to mum and dad fight. I did the same. At least we weren't kept in the dark.
My father was hardly ever home, usually on business trips, so I didn't really know why he was home.
Until I heard what he said.
"She isn't my responsibility! You wanted her, you look after her!" He shouted.
My mother was more quiet. "Ssh, she's upstairs, you know she'll hear."
"I don't give two pans of shit if she hears or not! It's not fair that you keep lying to her!" he replied. It was obvious they were talking about me.
They only referred me to "her".
I listened on….
It turns out my mother had an affair with a man in Chicago when she won a ticket to America by buying a certain beauty product. My father hadn't known she had cheated on him until the day my mother told him she was pregnant.
She tried to pass me as his. "It is yours!"
They hadn't had sex for five months. Before she left, during, and when she came back.
I wasn't my 'fathers' daughter. I was the daughter of an unknown man standing in a club with a drink and a cigarette in his hand.
I never met my father and never wanted to.
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Jesse's condition altered from critical to stable. They removed some of the strange wires and stuck a lighter IV in his arm.
This was two days later.
All I could do, all I wanted to do, was sit by him and stroke his hair away from his face. Maria had visited once, and I never moved from his side. She knew about us, then why should I leave him?
He stirred once or twice, but still his eyes didn't open.
I talked to him.
I kissed him.
I stroked his skin.
I loved him as much as I could.
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Month 2
Little one, I bring you into this world with much love and want. I admit that if it wasn't for my only true love, you would never have made it here. I would have done what many pregnant girls my age would have done - I would have done what my mother wanted, just to get her off my back. I'm sure I would have regretted it later on in my life, but you aren't a regret for me now. I want you so much, I want you to love me the way I love you right now. You will probably ever be the only one who loves me. I'm your mother, after all, but the choice will be yours. You could either love me like you would a mother, or you can hate me like you would an enemy. It is your choice and I will not resent you for it. Ever. You have freewill and I will never deny you that. Ever.
I plan on giving you this account on your sixteenth birthday. I want you to know everything about my life and my plans for yours - I don't like it when people (parents mostly) hide things from their sons/daugters. Of course, they will say everything has a reason. It doesn't mean you have to like it.
Jesse is still in hospital, little one. I hope that one day you'll be lucky enough to meet him. He's lovely and loves me so much and I am so horrible to him.
Maybe that saying is true. The one that goes: You'll only ever know what you had the day you lose it.
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Jesse stirred again. His eyes moved behind his lids but still he didn't open them.
"Jesse? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand once if you do." I whispered to him, kneeling by the bed.
His hand jerked in mine. I didn't know what it was but then he squeezed my hand.
What was I supposed to do if he was starting to wake up? Did I have to call a nurse?
"It's going to be alright, Jesse. I'm here. I'm not leaving you." I whispered. His lips twitched. A smile or a grimace?
I decided to ask him the question. "Do you want me to leave? Squeeze once if you do and twice if you don't."
A faint squeeze came. My hand went slack. Then another squeeze came.
I smiled.
A nurse came bustling in and saw me smiling. "Is he making any progress?" She asked snootily. I thought about telling her where to go but answered stiffly,
"Yes. He's starting to respond to me when I talk."
"You should of called us here straight away, miss." The nurse snapped, stalking over and twisting Keith's wrist to check his pulse. I glared at her. How could she be so violent? Weren't they trained to be respectful towards the people who were lying on the metal beds?
My annoyance was forgotten when Jesse squeezed my hand again. The nurse left, clipboard in hand, her nose in the air like a hunting dog.
"It's going to be alright," I whispered, stroking his hair, "You'll be out of here as soon as you get your strength back." Jesse's lips twitched again.
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Month 2
I have to admit, I have noting ready for you yet, little one. The fact is, I don't even know if I'll - we'll - be staying in my mother's house, but I doubt it. I'm looking for a place for us to stay, but seeing as I haven't announced to the government that I am a single teenage mother to be (I don't want the social services on my back) then I can't even get the Government help. Seven months seems a long time away, but I know from experience that it's more like around the corner.
Here's the second part to my childhood story:
My mother called me down from the stairs, where I was trying not to cry. My father was leaning against the fridge, his eyes on the floor. My mother grabbed me from the hair and slammed me against the table.
"You little bitch! Tell him that you are his responsibility as much as mine!"
"I am your responsibility as much as mummy's." Don't ask me why I still called her 'mummy'. Maybe I was too scared to call her 'mother' or any other name for that matter.
My father looked at me with something in his eyes. A mixture between love and hatred. All I could do was wish that the hatred wasn't directed to me.
"Susie, you know I love you, right?" Those words… Words I would never believe again.
I didn't answer. I looked down. My mother started shrieking again. I couldn't place her between the calm one who had been talking to my father when I was on the stairs and the one who was shrieking at my father right now.
I looked at the man in question. There were dark circles around his eyes and his mouth was hard, as if it never learned how to smile. I knew that he did know how to smile. He only ever did it for me, though.
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The machine attached to Jesse that monitored his heart was lulling me to sleep, the gentle beep, beep, beep asking my eyes lids to droop. I fixed my eyes to the green lines travelling across the black screen and hoped that I wouldn't fall asleep.
I couldn't fall asleep…
….couldn't…
…couldn't…
…couldn't…
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- Ali