Pretty Hurts (Left 1.50)

“You mean that?” he asks. His voice is rough and hard to hear.

Leaning forward, I run my hand over his head, too afraid to touch his face because I might cause him pain. “Of course I do. You can’t run out like that on me again. We work through things.”

“All I could see was you leaving me. I know it’s not fair to you, but scars have a way of re-opening.”

“And I understand it, but we have to work through it.” I stand and bend down to kiss his lips.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

I snicker. “Well, you’re still in good spirits at least.”

“Nothing better to do but lay here, might as well keep it upbeat.”

“And the baby?”

He sighs. “I overreacted. All I can do is wait for the DNA test to be issued and go from there. I don’t want to be without you, Efia.” He clutches my hand.

“You won’t be. Nothing like coming close to losing you to help put things into perspective.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he rasps.

“I’m sorry this happened at all,” I counter.

“It was a freak accident. The water came out of nowhere.” His eyes gloss over, and I know he’s back there with those rushing waters. I rest my head on the bed beside him and offer silent comfort.

***

Today’s the day we’ve been waiting for. The results are in for the paternity test. When the lawyer sent a denial of acknowledgment of parentage and sent a motion for a genetic marker a date was booked with a lab. Three swabs later our entire future is balanced on results. Thirty long days afterward, I’m sitting beside him in the judge’s chamber. He holds my hand, and I study the woman who came before me. She’s a thick Barbie with her voluptuous frame, bleached-blonde hair, long lashes, red lips, and heart-shaped face. She’s dressed impeccably in a black taffeta dress that nips into her tiny waist and billows out.

The baby is a red-cheeked chubby thing with bright blue eyes like her mother. I search for signs of Edgar in her chubby face, but it’s really too early to tell. The wisps of blonde hair sticking up on her head scream her mother as well. Clothed in a tiny sailor outfit, Betty is adorable and happy as a lark. If she gives him something I never will, it’ll kill me. I suddenly question my decision to wear the black pants suit. Do I look too masculine in my pants suit with my bald head? I struggle to stay still. Squirming would be a show of weakness.

“As I understand it you were not aware of the child until recently?” Judge Minor inquires. Her thin lips are pressed into a straight line and her salt-and-pepper hair is pulled back into a thin bun. She has a harsh appearance with her angular face and slender build, but there’s kindness lurking in the depths of her hazel-colored eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. I received a form for the acknowledgement of parentage in the mail a little over a month ago, and it was the first I’d heard of Betty.”

“But you were in a committed relationship with Ms. Bird for five years?”

“Yes, ma’am. Until she moved out abruptly with little to no explanation almost two years ago now.”

“Is this correct, Ms. Bird?” the judge asks.

“Yes, but I knew he didn’t want children,” she replies lamely.

The judge gives her a withering look but remains neutral.

“You’ve all been to the DNA center. If Betty is your child, Mr. Gilborn, do you intend to be involved in her life?”

“Yes, ma’am. I know how important it is for a child to have both parents involved in their lives.”

“I’m inclined to believe you, young man,” she says with a gentle smile. “Now let’s get down to the reason we’re here. The pate

rnity. Ms. Bird, is there a chance Mr. Gilborn is not the father of Betty?”

She glances away. “No, I don’t believe so.”

Liar.