You're right. If only Maria could understand all of this.Maria is the one that needs professional help the most. She's going to loose everything and not even realize or care ... and it could be sooner than she knows. There comes a breaking point, and Michael's is right on the cusp of his.
Yeah, he rushed into that promise, but since Tess has had longer to think about it, she's being more reasonable and realistic.It was sweet of Kyle to offer to be the dad no matter what, but I don't think he can really promise that at this point. It's still too fresh and he hasn't really processed the implications of it.
Novy:
Aw, thank you! This is something I've really tried to improve over the years, use of detail and showing the emotions rather than just telling them.She's just screaming hurt out of every movement and gesture. It just oozes out of the screen. The art of it is in detail. I love seeing how committed you are to the slightest things.
There should be a new music part soon.Where has the music been lately? I miss it.
She's weaving a very complex and dangerous web of lies, but unfortunately for everyone else, she's pretty damn good at it.Yeah Isabel deserves nothing. I really hope she is exposed with all those lies she's been telling. I would love it if that is how this all ends and everyone can finally have some peace.
Thank you, ladies! Glad to know at least a couple people have stuck with this roller coaster ride of a fic!
Part 109
Work had been a nightmare that night. Three preteen boys had come into the store and decided that it would be fun to tear apart the voyeurism section. Max threw them out on their asses three times in a row before Isabel finally threatened to call the cops. That worked, and they left, but unfortunately they left a lot of work to be done behind them. Since she was the manager on duty, though, Isabel made Max restock everything. She knew she’d still have to go back and double-check his work the next night, though, because the movies were supposed to be in alphabetical order, and when it came to simple tasks like alphabetizing, her brother was a dumbass.
When she got home, she wasn’t exactly greeted by the open arms of her loving husband. Because that would never happen. He was sitting out on the porch, waiting for her. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” he said, holding up a newspaper. Billy’s arrest was front page news.
There was no point in denying it, not to him. “Well, what can I say? All my boys are just so eager to tell me about their crimes.” Her words dripped with bitterness, because she did feel bitter. Why was it that she hardly ever heard anyone say they loved her, but she always heard them say they’d accidentally killed someone or raped someone?
“Why Tess?” he wondered aloud, looking over the article again.
She shrugged. “Why not? She’s blonde, like me. Pretty, like me. Curvy in all the right places . . .” She smoothed her hands across her breasts and down her sides. “Like me. He probably figured he was getting the next best thing.”
“The word narcissist takes on a whole new meaning with you, Isabel.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped over him on her way inside.
“Did you hear he confessed?” he asked as he followed her into the house. “And now he’s even admitting to date-raping a whole bunch of girls over the years. It’s like he’s asking to be locked up for life.”
“Maybe he is,” she pondered as she stepped out of her shoes and kicked them into the pile by the door. She took off her coat next, and when she did, she felt the familiar weight of his album on the inside pocket. It didn’t weigh much, but it still felt heavy. And when she took it out to look at it, she actually felt sorry for him. Despite how much she hated what he had done and thought he was an idiot for confessing to it, she looked at The Distance and wondered just how distant his life was from the life he’d once thought he would have. Because he had to have grown up wanting more than this. Didn’t everyone?
“What is that?” Alex asked, folding the paper up, holding it beneath his arm.
“His album.” She didn’t have it in her to throw it away, so she put it back in her coat pocket instead and hung her coat up on the dilapidated coat rack. “He was gonna release it soon. I think he might’ve gotten famous.”
“Oh, he’s famous now,” Alex assured her. “Just not for his music. The police are calling him a serial rapist.”
“He’s not . . .” She wanted to discredit that, but how could she? He’d either forcibly raped or taken advantage of a number of innocent girls over the span of half a dozen years. That was . . . serial. “He had a hard life, okay?” she said, not sure why she felt so obligated to add some human qualities onto his police-projected persona. “He didn’t grow up under the most ideal circumstances.”
“Who did? Besides Michael Guerin, of course.”
“I’m not saying it’s an excuse; it’s just . . . it’s sad, is all. It’s sad that he could’ve been better, but no one gave him the chance.”
“Including you,” he pointed out.
She shook her head. “No, I did.” She’d been willing to start her entire life over again just to give being with him a shot. “He just didn’t take it.” The longer she thought about it, the more it started to make sense that she couldn’t help but defend him. Because she was so much like him. Maybe not in the literal sense, but in every way that mattered . . . she and Billy were the same people. He was her Isabel Evans, and she was his Michael Guerin.
No wonder it hadn’t worked out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buddha taught that material possession cluttered the mind . . . but that sure as hell didn’t stop Kyle from buying Tess armfuls of clothes (mostly maternity clothes) the next day. He’d left the house with the intention of going to work, but when he’d gotten there, he’d realized there was no possible way he could focus, so Michael had suggested he go home. He’d stopped at the mall on his way back, knowing that clothes and shoes and jewelry weren’t going to make Tess feel any better about what she was going through. He knew it was probably a way of making himself feel better more than anything, not because he particularly enjoyed shopping or knew all that much about women’s clothes, but because he felt like he had to do something for her, like he had to make at least some kind of tangible effort to help.
When he got home, she was on the phone with her dad. She waved at him when he walked in the door, then kept on talking. “No, Daddy, I appreciate it—really, I do—but you don’t need to come. I swear, I’m fine.”
Kyle set the shopping sacks down by the door. She’d mentioned telling her dad everything, but he hadn’t expected her to feel up to doing it today. She was . . . really so much tougher than he was.
“Okay, not fine,” she admitted, “but . . . I’m coping. And Kyle’s taking really good care of me.” She smiled at him, then pointed to the bags and gave him a thumbs up. “No, Daddy, please don’t. You’ll just be wasting a lot of money on a plane ticket.”
Ed Harding wasn’t normally a loud man, but Kyle could hear the hysteria in his father-in-law’s voice over the phone. They’d had plenty of conversations over the years about how worried he’d been when she’d been dating Max, worried that he’d get violent with her someday. He’d probably forgotten about a lot of those worries once they’d called it quits, only to have them brought back again now.
“Okay, then think of the gas money,” she kept on, still trying to convince him to stay put in Vegas. “Please, Daddy. It’s like I said, I appreciate it, but . . . there’s really nothing you can do here.” There was a short pause, and then she started to look relieved. “I know. You can tell Amy everything, or I can tell Maria to give her a call and tell her if . . . Just don’t let her talk you into coming here, okay? Promise?” She smiled. “Thanks. I love you, Daddy. I’ll call you again later, okay? Bye.” She ended the call and sighed heavily. “That was hard.”
“You told him about . . . everything?”
“Yeah. I figured he should hear it from me.”
“Sounds like he’s upset,” he remarked.
“He’s devastated. I mean, imagine how we would feel if something like this ever happened to Miley.”
He did, and he felt his stomach start to turn, his blood start to boil. Miley wasn’t even his kid, and the thought of it made him want to smash something . . . or someone.
“I’m his daughter,” she said. “No father ever wants to think of his daughter being . . .” She shivered. “And then with the baby on top of it . . .”
He picked up the sacks full of clothes and crossed the living room, setting them down at her feet.
“Thanks,” she said, halfheartedly picking one up. She pulled out a purple scarf and cooed, “Pretty.”
“He wanted to come here, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I told him not to. I feel like we’re handling things pretty well ourselves, and I don’t want anything to disrupt that.”
He nodded in agreement, though it wouldn’t have bothered him for Ed to be there, too. Whatever Tess wanted, though. It was all about what she wanted, since two months ago it had been all about what she hadn’t.
She cleared her throat and continued feeling around in the sacks, but it was clear that she wasn’t really focused on the things he’d gotten her. “So, um, I don’t know if you plan on going to work again tomorrow, but I scheduled an appointment at 1:00. I think I’m gonna have a sonogram, just to verify how far along I am.”
He stupidly let himself imagine looking at that ultrasound monitor and finding out she was farther along than she thought, maybe three or four months instead of two. But he knew it wasn’t possible.
“If you’re busy, you don’t have to come, but . . .”
“No, I’ll be there,” he assured her quickly. He wasn’t going to make her do it alone.
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed in relief.
He sat down beside her, scooping her into his arms, holding her close. “I’ll be there every step of the way,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. If this had for sure been his baby, he would have done everything, would have gone to every appointment, every check-up, every . . . everything. There was no reason to treat this any differently. She needed him, and by being there for her, he was giving her a lot more than the clothes he’d just purchased.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Every second that Maria wasn’t thinking about Tess’s dilemma, she spent thinking about her own horrible life. She lay in bed that night, twirling her new engagement ring between her fingers. It was a beautiful ring, but it wasn’t like the last one. It still looked strange on her finger, maybe because she was just so used to looking down and seeing the old one there. The right one. She almost wished Michael hadn’t bought this new one, because when she wore it, she felt like she was suggesting that the accident hadn’t happened, that everything was still the same because they were still engaged. But of course Michael had gotten her a new one. Even though he still had yet to put a wedding ring on her finger, he’d always made sure there was something there.
****
They’d been up all night. They hadn’t even left the apartment since she’d revealed that she was pregnant. It had been a hell of a day, especially for him. Two baby bombshells, one right after another. He seemed happy, though, happy that Alex was the one in the hospital with Isabel right now, probably holding a baby boy in his arms. He seemed happy with her, even though fatherhood was still in his future.
Lying in bed next to Michael, Maria twirled her promise ring around between her fingers. He had given it to her only a few hours ago. They’d been talking about marriage and, after deciding that it wasn’t something they wanted to rush, he’d located this ring. He said it had belonged to his great-grandmother, and it had been given to her by her husband. He hadn’t given it to her as a way of proposing, but rather as a way of promising that one day he would.
It sort of felt like a fairytale day.
“I always knew I wanted to be a dad,” he said, brushing the back of his hand across her stomach.
“Really? Did you fantasize about your wedding and your honeymoon and the birth of your first-born, like little girls do?” she teased.
“I fantasized about the honeymoon.” He grinned.
“Hmm, I guess we’re doing things out of order.”
“That’s alright.”
She was fairly certain her mother wasn’t going to think it was alright, but once the idea of being a grandma set in, she’d start to look forward to it. “You’re gonna be a good dad,” she told him.
“You think?”
“Yeah.” He’d already had some time to get used to the idea, what with Isabel’s recently untangled web of lies.
“You’re gonna be a good mom,” he returned.
“I don’t know.” Michael as a dad . . . no problem. He was practically built for it. Her as a mom . . . not so much. “I never thought I wanted to be a mom. I still don’t know if I want to be a mom But I’m gonna be, so . . .” She sighed shakily. “I’m kinda terrified.”
“Me, too,” he admitted.
“You don’t seem like it.” All afternoon and evening, he’d been acting so eager and prepared, even throwing out a few suggestions for baby names. She’d suggested Miley.
“I just hide it well,” he said.
She had a feeling she wasn’t hiding anything. “I’m gonna need a lot of help,” she informed him. “I’m serious. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“Neither do I.”
You do, though, she thought. Even though she was supposed to have that maternal instinct, did she? Or was she going to have to rely on him to know and do everything?
“I guess we’ll figure it out together,” he said, smiling reassuringly. He clasped one of her hands in his, and his touch alone made her feel like everything was going to be alright, like they could face anything, like they were going to get a happy ending.
“Together,” she agreed, squeezing his hand confidently as she slipped the promise ring back on her finger.
****
Michael really was an amazing guy. He’d kept her feeling like everything would be great for almost four years. But that feeling had come crashing down the minute their car had crashed. And even though she could tell that he was trying so hard to get it back . . . it just wasn’t happening.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked. Apparently he hadn’t been as asleep as she’d thought.
She hid her hand beneath the covers and slid the ring back on her finger. “Lots of things.”
“Such as?”
Just go back to sleep, she wanted to tell him. He’d been working himself to death lately; he needed his rest.
He turned over onto his left side to face her, looking at her expectantly.
“Why didn’t we get married years ago?” she wondered aloud. “We talked about it. We knew we were having a baby, and we knew we wanted to be together. So why didn’t we just tie the knot?”
“Maria, when we found out you were pregnant, we’d only been together for a few months. And we’d broken up because of . . .” He trailed off before saying her name.
“But we knew we’d get married eventually,” she pointed out. “Why’d we wait?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was marrying you just because you were having my baby.”
“I’m always having your baby,” she muttered, moving the covers aside. “It’s like the only thing I’ve ever been good at.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up, stretching her arms above her head.
“That’s not true,” he said, sitting up. The blankets pooled around his lap. He was shirtless. He looked good, but tired.
“Isn’t it?” she countered, not even able to appreciate his appearance. “Tell me, other than being a walking, talking incubator, what talents do I have?”
“You’re a teacher,” he said without hesitating. “You’re a great teacher.”
“I’m not, though. And I’m never gonna be.” She knew dropping out of school was another decision he didn’t agree with, so he’d probably try to persuade her to go back next semester. “Face it, Michael: You’re the one who’s good at everything, and all I’m good at is carrying on your genetic line.” She rubbed her stomach, resenting the fact that maybe she wasn’t even good for that anymore, now that she’d miscarried. “So I guess once I have my tubes tied, I’ll be good for nothing. You won’t have any use for me anymore.” She hadn’t really thought about the potential consequences of the procedure until now, but now that she was . . . she wouldn’t be surprised if she lost him.
“Maria, I’m not using you to have kids,” he said, climbing out of bed. “Where’s this coming from?”
“It just kind of dawned on me that I’m holding you back, so . . .” She twisted her engagement ring, loosening it. “I understand if you want this back now that I have nothing to offer you.”
He saw what she was doing and reacted immediately. “Maria, stop.” He rejected the ring when she tried to hand it to him and said, “Put that back on.” When she didn’t, he took it from her and slid it back on her limp ring finger for her. “Stop. You don’t get it. You have a lot to offer me, just by being you.”
“You’re just saying that.” He’d hidden well the fact that he was nervous about being a dad four years ago, just like he was hiding the fact that he knew he was better than her now.
“Maria, I care about you, okay? I love you, not your . . . ability to have children.”
She still didn’t believe him. Yes, he loved her; she knew that. But he loved pregnant her even more. “You’re gonna hate me, aren’t you?” she realized. “You’re gonna hate me after I go through with this.”
“I could never hate you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist slowly, settling his hands into the small of her back. “Shh,” he whispered, pulling her against him. He hugged her gently, almost as if he were afraid to break her. “Shh . . .” he soothed again, his breath rustling her hair. He started to rub his large, warm hands over her back, up her spine, to thread through the ends of her hair. There had been a time when this would have been enough to make her feel like all was right with the world, but she knew better now. Still . . .
She tilted her head back to look up at him, and she wanted to feel like that again. She wanted to be ignorant of all the problems that weren’t fading away, of all the arguments that hadn’t been settled, of all the things that weren’t getting better. She wanted this to be enough, so she kissed him. He kissed her back hesitantly, and she could practically taste the surprise on his lips. How long had it been since they’d kissed? She couldn’t even remember.
Even though it was the least carefree of all their kisses, it felt . . . good. Really good. Physically good, at least. She looped her arms around his neck and rose up on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss, her body melding to his when he pulled her closer. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that what she was feeling wasn’t passion; it was desperation. But she let herself feel it anyway.
He picked her up, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist to hold herself in place. Maybe her sexual instinct had always been stronger than her maternal one. What kind of mom was she if her daughter was dead and she wasn’t?
Don’t think about that, she coached herself, tangling her hands in his hair as he lay her down on the bed, settling on top of her. They just needed to sleep together. It would make her feel better. It’d always made her feel better.
He kissed his way down to her neck, his tongue swirling patterns across her skin, and she could feel him getting hard. It brushed against the inside of her thigh, and the contact was enough for the anxiety to seep in. She whimpered as memories flashed through her mind.
Making love to Michael, him on top of her, just like this. Making Macy.
Looking at the pregnancy test with him. Two more pinks lines.
Michael’s hands on her rounded stomach, Macy kicking from the inside.
Dazedly watching Michael snip the umbilical cord before holding Macy for the first time.
Hearing Macy say her first word. “Mama . . .”
Watching Macy take her first steps before falling down and giggling.
Strapping Macy into her car seat while she slept.
Crashing.
Watching the casket lower six feet into the ground . . .
All the images started to flash by so rapidly that Maria couldn’t distinguish one from the next. She shoved Michael away, nearly pushing him off the side of the bed.
“What?” he asked breathlessly.
She tugged down on her shirt, not even sure when he’d started urging it up. Stupid. She was so stupid. Just for a moment, she’d let herself forget that she was living in a nightmare. She’d let herself believe that things could be the way they used to, that being with Michael could make the world slip away. But she knew better. She’d always known. And now she’d just ended up confusing Michael even more. But how could she sleep with him yet, when there was still a chance that she would wind up pregnant again? It was too big of a risk. Once it was no longer possible, then she’d be able to sleep with him . . . if he still wanted her.
She felt like a crazy person.
“I’m gonna go to bed,” she announced, bolting from the room. When she said that, she meant she was going to go to bed on the couch. It was in both their best interests.
TBC . . .
-April
It isn't often Candy fans say that about Michael and Maria. 
if you'd like to. Very cool song, though I have no idea what it's about.
But also, this past week was busy, as I had to plan and host a game night/movie night for about 80 hyped-up, caffeinated middle schoolers. It was very fun, though. Dare I say it, even I enjoyed myself. It’s fun to watch them have fun. But now that that is out of the way, I feel a little less stressed out and am ready to update!