Always Wanting (Consumed)

“Just great,” I answer. “The same as always.”

“I’ve got news…” she trails off, and I hear the wariness in her voice.

“What’s that?” I lean back against the fridge, pretending like I didn’t hear the hesitation.

“Nina, she’s uh… she’s pregnant.”

A piercing pain hits my chest, right where my heart sits. I close my eyes and count to ten, before I open them and move back to the counter. I’ve lied to my family. They believe I can’t have kids because I have a defect that prevents it. I don’t want them to know that it’s my

choice not to have them. That I can’t have a real relationship to have them. They still don’t know of my addiction, and as far as I’m concerned, they never will. I know deep in my heart they’ll never judge me or look at me differently, but I still don’t want them to know.

An image of Blue flashes through my mind, followed by me standing by him as he holds a dark-haired baby. It’s ours, I know it is, but it’s a stupid fantasy, so I push it away.

“This is great!” I say cheerily. “I’m so happy for her and Jeremy! How far along is she?” I know my voice sounds a little too high, as I try to hide the pain I’m feeling.

“Abigail—”

“No, Mom,” I say a little too harshly, before trying again. “I’m fine, really. This is wonderful news. Now, tell me how far along she is, please.”

It takes her several seconds before she decides to let it go. I’m glad she does, because I don’t want to talk about something so painful right now. This is about my sister, and I’m happy for her.

“Six weeks. She wanted to tell you herself, but was worried it would upset you.”

I stuff some frozen cheese raviolis in the freezer. “You tell her I’m just fine, and that I’m happy for them both. Let her know I expect her to scan the ultrasound to my phone. I wanna see the little peanut.”

“You could always come visit and see it in person,” my mom remarks nonchalantly, likes it’s no big deal that she asked me to visit.

I lean my forehead against the freezer door and take several deep breaths. This is why I don’t like talking to my family. They are always trying to get me to come visit. There’s nothing I would love more than to go see them, I miss them so much, but it’s difficult to come up with excuses why I can’t have dinner with them, or why I have to leave the house for hours at a time at night. Why I choose to stay in a hotel, versus staying in my childhood home. In the last eight years, I’ve only visited them a handful of times, and each and every time, it’s hard to leave, but it’s also hard to see them, knowing I’m holding this secret. They’ve come out to visit me as well a few times, but again, I have to come up with excuses why I disappear at night.

“I can’t,” I lie, and use my current made up excuse. “I’ve got work, and then night classes.” In an attempt to stave off the requests for me to come visit, I’ve told them I’m studying for a degree in elementary education. They know my love of working with kids, so it wasn’t hard to convince them. But I still get the sense they know something is off with my excuses.

“What about during the weekends?” she asks, hopeful.

“I’m taking weekend classes as well. The program I’m in allows students to obtain their degree early if you take extra classes.”

“Oh.” She can’t hide the disappointment, and shame hits me. I hate lying to them, and I hate even more that I’m a coward and refuse to talk to them about my problems. I know it’s a weak excuse, and I’ll have to come up with a reason why I don’t have a degree when the time comes. I can’t very well go to school for the rest of my life.

“As soon I get a break from classes, I’ll come for a visit,” I tell her, and this time, it’s the truth. It’s been over a year, and I desperately want to see them.

“That’s great, honey!” she exclaims, perking up. “I can’t wait. We’ve all missed you.”

“I’ve missed you guys too. Love you, Mom.”

I force back the tears that want to break free.

“Love you too, Abigail.”

After we hang up several minutes later, my heart heavy, I finish putting away the rest of the groceries. It’s been two weeks since Blue and I officially started dating, and tonight is the first night he’s meeting my friends. It’s not that I didn’t want him to meet them sooner, I just wanted to make sure we had a decent start at dating before I introduced them. Luckily, the last two weeks have been easy. I know Blue has a business, and as most decent businessmen are known to do, they normally work long hours, but Blue is always at my house thirty minutes after I get home from work, or is calling me to come to his. I’ve reminded him the urges don’t come until later in the evening, but he insists. My heart melts because I know it’s not because of my needs that has him wanting to meet early, but because he wants to be with me.

It’s the weekend, and we’re doing an early dinner at Suzie’s. I’m nervous, especially with Blue and Nathan meeting. I saw the anger on Blue’s face when I told him I’ve had sex with Nathan before, when I needed someone. I couldn’t really blame him, but luckily, he saw my point of view on the matter and accepted it. Nathan is also very protective of me. He knows the struggle I’ve gone through, and as much as he wants to see me happy, he also wants to make sure the guy is the right one for me.

An hour later, I’m just finishing my make-up, when my doorbell rings. Putting my mascara back in my make-up case, I grab my earrings and slip them on as I walk to the door. Checking to make sure it’s Blue, I pull open the door, and am swept away in a wave of lust at seeing him standing there in a pair of dark wash blue jeans, a white V-neck shirt, sunglasses hanging from the V of the shirt, and a pair of Oxfords. My eyes eat up every inch of him. Wetness floods my skimpy pink panties, and not from the incessant cravings, but purely from the incredibly sexy man standing in front of me.

“What time are we supposed to meet your friends?” The question comes out gruff.

“An hour,” I respond breathlessly, liking the look in his eyes.

He steps through the door and slams it shut behind him. “We have time,” he growls, and grabs me around the waist, hauling me against his firm chest.