"It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life…
But what hurts more is knowing you'll revise that chapter someday… and you'll erase me completely."
― Ranata Suzuki

Michonne was all I thought about, morning, noon, and night. There were so many questions, and only a few were answered by my mother, who was eighty percent healthy. My mother contributed her miraculous turnaround all to Lori's frequent visits. It was a gibe that I couldn't ignore but tried to out of respect, which more than likely gave my mother the impression she was right, if I had visited as much as Lori, she would be one hundred percent cured.

I still had Michonne's scent and juices all over me. When I opened the door to my apartment, Lori and my mother both were waiting for me to head towards them to provide a proper greeting. I could not with knowing where I had my face.

It was only moments ago that Michonne and I were interrupted by Eugene, who appeared outside of her bathroom with his toolbox in one hand and the leaky pipe in the other. I had abruptly left to seek refuge in my own apartment. I was embarrassed to have an actual witness who had caught me happily humming between the softest chocolate thighs known to man.

"Where have you been, son?" My mother had asked.

"Hi, honey." Lori greeted from across the room, fussing over my mother's comfort on our couch.

The mere sight of Lori AND my mother in the apartment together caught me off guard. I froze. "When did you get discharged?" I had asked.

"Your mother was discharged today. If you were listening, you would have known, honey. I'd even called you. Shane too."

I began to sweat. "What did Shane tell you, Lori?"

"He was surprised you didn't tell me where you were since you weren't at work. He figured I being your rib that I should know where and when my other half is being nibbled on."

"For heaven's sake that Shane needs to spend more time in church to understand Adam and Eve." My mother declared.

"Mother Ella, can you even imagine Shane stepping foot in a church?" Lori laughed at the idea. I could only bring about a weak smile and a half nod when Lori glanced my way.

"It would be a sight. What's nibbling you, son?" My mother took advantage of the term that gnashed at my soul.

"Shane," I spoke his name, utterly absent from context to slow or stall my mother's ability to hone into when I have gotten myself into some shit. I would need my Dad to get me out of this if I were looking to extricate myself from Michonne's unfathomable ability to keep me entranced in her shenanigans. But if I were trying to go in the opposite direction of the woman who lived above, it would be my father with a plan to successfully help me fall off the face of the earth. My Dad wasn't around. He was more than likely off the coast of some island, enjoying someone younger than my mother but older than Lori but not by much.

"It's all over your face, son!" My mother pressed.

"Oh, God." I declared desperately.

"I've known you longer than you've known me, son. Might as well spit it out."

"I swallowed."

I was cracking.

I was going to be sick. This dilemma had been weighing on me like a toy Anchor trying to slow the Titantic from the inevitable. I was sinking fast. Shane was the only one aware that I was going to end things with Lori today because it was challenging to keep myself from who I wanted to sink my teeth into when she playfully had her ass up in the air. Yes, I wholeheartedly enjoyed what I consumed greedily just moments ago. And because I allowed those two words to tumble out of my mouth meant I was still under the effects of Michonne. My need to get to the bathroom was imperative.

"Tell me what's eating you." My mother insisted. Lori became more noticeably concerned.

"The wedding." I began to admit.

"What about the wedding?"

"So much has happened — all the waiting. Reasons to wait. None of it makes sense. We've been together since high school. More than nine years later. The waiting-."

"You want to move it up?" Lori sat more erect.

I took note of Lori's ability to only see straight ahead, goal post, forward or back, still meant marriage was on the table. No exceptions.

If I had agreed, our wedding plans would've sped up with fewer guests than initially proposed. It was only then I began to put the brakes on my continued participation in what wasn't going to happen. I was done with any additional feedback with planning, or talk, including hiding, disguising and gaslighting. I was taking the bull by the horns.

"Michonne is pregnant."

Lori and my mother both wore the same expression, unsure why they should care or what concern they both should demonstrate by what I declared to be true. What was needed was an additional detail that not only was Michonne pregnant, but I was the father. This detail could have quickly put my mother back in the hospital and Lori to see me for who I indeed was, imperfect and unworthy of such level of trust. Instead, "I have to go to the bathroom."

I made my exit.