Writings on the wall, p.26
Writings on the Wall, page 26
part #1 of Writings on the Wall Series
“I told you.”
“Where are we going from here? Wow, I love my life. I need to get my Instagram insights up so when I post the shoot it does something, you know? That’s the goal.”
Xavier watches as I pace back and forth. “Great, very happy for you, but—”
“Wait! So, I went in, right, and they gave me this robe, and it was fluffy and warm and—”
“Kimber, I really need to get this out now or it’ll probably never happen.”
The tone in my boyfriend’s voice automatically adds weight to my ankles as I slowly put my purse down in a nearby chair and make my way to him. “Okay,” I mutter before placing my hands onto his. “I’ll sit then.”
Xavier slides over to make room for me. “There’s nothing wrong, okay. So let’s wipe that look off your face.” He lets out a chuckle before lightly pinching my cheek.
“Okay, talk. I can’t take the suspense.”
“Right.” He adjusts himself, completely unable to keep eye-contact with me. My heart begins to race as I try my best to guess what he could possibly say. The shortness of breath that I’ve been experiencing lately returned. I scan the room desperately as I try to find something to distract me.
“Okay . . . ”
“You okay? I think I should be the nervous one here.”
I nod, still looking past him for something to focus on. “Oh! Dixie baby!” I leap up and run over to the other side of the large room to place my new puppy in my arms. “Okay, talk.” Dixie calms my entire being while I make my way back to the couch. I’m not going to say I have anxiety. There are real people who really suffer with these issues. I’m sure I’m not one of them. I get nervous like everyone else in this world. No big deal.
“Right, okay. Are you going to get up again? Should I do this standing?”
Every word he says tugs at my heart. What could he possibly be talking about? “Just talk.”
“I love you, and—”
His tone alone is enough to spike my blood pressure. “If you’re breaking up with me, can you just start with that?”
Xavier sends a confused look in my direction and shakes his head. “What? I told you this was nothing bad. Are you good, babe?”
A deep breath exhales from my mouth while my hands subconsciously pet the puppy. “Sorry. Sorry. I’ll shut up.”
“All right, well. I love you, and I’m in love with you, and I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially since getting Dixie, but . . . I want a baby.”
Once the words register, I immediately put Dixie down as I begin gasping for air. I don’t know what heart attacks feel like, but I’m ninety percent sure I’m having one. Within moments, an intense feeling of pain spreads through my upper body and down to my left hand. “Xavier.”
“Are—are you okay?”
“I think I’m having a heart attack.” What an awful way to die.
He watches for a moment as I gulp for as much air as I can gather. I rest on the couch once holding my body up on its own just feels like too much work. “No . . . I think you’re just having a panic attack, shit.”
“Oh. Cool,” I force out in between gasps. “Help me, then.”
“Uh. Right, okay. Close your eyes.”
I do what he says without a fight and waits impatiently for my next instruction. “Now what?”
His large hands hold mine, already bringing a sense of peace into my system. Yet, it isn’t enough to calm the pain. “I need you to take deep, slow breaths. And while you’re doing that focus on . . . I don’t know, a happy place. A dream or something. Anything that can make you happy enough to ignore the pain. I think.”
The shakiness in his voice is a clear signal to me that he’s feeling a large sense of regret over his proposal. I feel bad, but it’s not something I can think about right now, clearly. “Okay.”
My thoughts begin to drift, so I continue to focus on his thumb slowly caressing my palms. Shopping, hosting award shows, visiting my family a lot more often than I do now. Nothing is working, I’m still struggling to breathe, and it’s only getting more painful. My throat closes up as if someone’s fist is wrapped around it, I need to go deeper. Xavier. He’s a happy place for me. The iron grip on my throat loosens up, but this isn’t enough. I give my imagination permission to run wild and suddenly—there we are. A future version of myself is standing in a yard way too big for one person to maintain, but I’m not alone. Xavier is in swim trunks sipping lemonade and reading some sports book. I glance to my left to see a toddler tugging on my sundress. As the imaginary scenario continues, the tenseness of my entire body calms. Mom, Justin won’t let me play with the ball. Future me knows exactly where to look. Her eyes focus past the little girl to reveal a slightly older boy playing on his own just a few feet away. She calls out to him, and he apologizes and runs through the vibrant green grass to play with his sister. Future me looks to her left, a curly-haired woman who is a bit older standing there, smiling. Samantha. We hug, and it’s the warmest hug I’ve ever felt.
They look just like you.
“Must be some happy place,” Xavier mumbles. It’s at this moment that I check back into reality and realize that not only has the pain stopped—but I’m smiling.
I get control of my body back and quickly sit up. When my eyes rest on him, I allow myself to see him like my future self clearly does. I kept the idea of moving any faster out of my head because I didn’t want to bother him. But, if I’m being honest, I wanted this a lot longer than he did. “Oh. Yeah, thank you.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
A loving kiss from me interrupts his sentence. “No need to apologize. I want to.”
“What?”
“I want to have a baby.”
On normal days, his smile can light up a room. But at this very moment it’s blinding. The larger male wraps me up in his arms and places me onto his lap. “I fucking love you.”
A giggle escapes my lips. “I love you more.”
“I promise you don’t.”
“I swear I do. Now, don’t we have something to be doing?”
“I am kind of hungry, isn’t it dinner time?”
“Xavier!”
“I’m kidding, come on.”
Sometimes life is an utter mess. Sometimes you spend days on end wishing you took the chances life gave you when they arrived. My career is peaking, yes. But with Xavier by my side there’s no need for it to end now. I can balance having a family and work, sure. The man of my dreams wants to take that next step with me—no one else. And that in its own means the entire world to me.
Fifty-Three
RECEIVING THE CALL felt like a blur, honestly. Me? Hosting the Billboard Music Awards? The idea in itself is enough to take me back a few steps. There’s truly nowhere but up from here and no one can convince me otherwise. My career, my personal life, I’m on top of the world. Plus, the rush of satisfaction I get from seeing strangers on the internet praising me is truly more than enough.
“I can’t believe it!” I blurt out as Xavier mindlessly walks through the fifth designer store of the day.
“Shit, I’m proud of you. I never got an award show offer or no shit like that, so go you.”
“Hey! You could.”
He side-eyes me before rolling his eyes and letting out a low chuckle. “Yeah, in what world? They don’t ask boxers to do those things.”
“Don’t be such a party pooper, okay?”
“I’m not. Hey, what do you think about this?” He holds up a hideous designer shirt for me to see.
“No. I will not walk around with you in that.”
We both chuckle as he puts the clothing back down. “You are a very rude person, Arlissa Benson.”
“Me? You’re snorting crack!” I reply jokingly.
“Shit, I might be.”
My smile quickly shifts into a pout. “Not funny. We’re expecting a child now.”
“We are?”
“I mean . . . ” We both make slow strides through the store. “We could be, I think it’s too early to tell.”
Xavier pauses, placing his hand on my stomach. “Well, I’ve got faith.”
I playfully roll my eyes before giggling and pushing his hand away. “We’re in public!”
The rest of our afternoon consisted of a romantic lunch date at Subway that the paparazzi couldn’t get enough of and even more shopping. For him, at least, I only found a pair of Prada sunglasses I liked and that was the end of that.
“Can you pass me that other bag so I can put this shirt on the hanger?” Xavier calls out, half of his body deep into our walk-in closet.
I jump up off the bed and get what he asked for. “You need help?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Okay—” The interrupting ring of my phone cut off any remaining thoughts I have.
“Who is that?”
“Alejandra, hold on.” I quickly press the green answer button that’s lighting up my screen, my feet happily taking me to the other side of the room. “I missed you! It’s been days since you last called!”
“You’re fucking pregnant?” Her words blare through the speakers, but time has already stopped for me. “Hello?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“It’s all over the fucking blogs! Now answer me!”
“I—I’ll call you back.” My fingers quickly press the bright red button on my phone. My body is still; focus remaining on the carpeted floors.
“You good?” Xavier calls from the closet.
“Check your phone.”
“It’s on the bed, what’s going on?”
No words are leaving my mouth at that moment. My fingers move faster than my brain can process. I Google my name. Arlissa Benson. A few pictures of me, cute. I click the News tab in hopes that Alejandra is pranking me. Once the drop-down menu appears, the normal stupid headlines like Arlissa Benson In An Itty-Bitty Crop Top At Venus Beach, have disappeared. Instead, it’s replaced with paparazzi photos of Xavier and I today and They’re Expecting worded a million different ways. My heart completely drops, unsure of who was possibly close enough to us today to even hear.
We just planned this. There’s no confirmation, and yeah, maybe we had a few hopeful conversations but that’s it. For someone to be so cruel that they felt they had to let the whole world know whatever they heard or saw, it’s heartbreaking. Not only did we have no privacy, but we have no respect. Anger, disappointment, and the grief of not being able to break the news on our own consumed me. Red-hot tears fall from my eyes while I remain motionless.
“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” Xavier asks, finally climbing over the bags and heading toward me.
I shake my head, handing the phone to him without even making eye contact. “I just . . . I don’t get it. How are people so evil? Anything for a dollar, right?”
There are a few moments of silence, the only sound filling my ears being Dixie rummaging through the bags and Xavier’s fingers making contact with my phone screen. “Well.”
My brow furrows in anger at my boyfriend’s response. “Well? Are you serious?”
“Look, this stuff happens. I learned not to cry over spilled milk a long time ago.”
“This isn’t just stupid secrets, Xavier! This is our child. And we didn’t get to announce it on our own. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant. What if I’m not?”
“Hey . . . ” He places my phone down before grabbing both of my hands. “They didn’t take that from us. For all they know it’s gossip, and we can deny it if we want. You don’t have to tell anyone anything you don’t want to.”
My eyes roll so far back, I’m convinced they’re stuck in the back of my head. “It’s just sick because we don’t even fucking know. Just feels like a fucking jinx now.”
“Look, we can make this work for us.”
“How? Since you’re so full of ideas.”
“We announce it at the award show. Well—you do. I’ll be there but, you know. That’ll give people something to talk about, and you can tell the publications to suck a dick.”
The thought of using my unborn child as a career boost isn’t settling well with me. But the longer I sit with the idea the longer I realize that my boyfriend is one hundred percent correct. I announce it on my own terms, and what’s a better platform to use than an award show?
Fifty-Four
TIME SEEMS TO drag on when you’re actually waiting for something. Yet, when you want it to slow down it seems to zip by. The last few years had zipped by faster than I could really put in one sentence. But waiting for my period to come feels like an eternity. I guess I should say waiting for it not to come—but regardless, it took for-fucking-ever. But the end of April comes and my body doesn’t suffer from not a cramp or cravings. Maybe, just maybe, it’s actually time.
I sit on the edge of the toilet seat as the moments tick by ever so slowly. Maybe it’s been ten minutes, maybe it’s been only three. The blue and white stick that sits still on the sink is practically mocking me. We didn’t do this the way smart couples do and look at my cycle, see a doctor, and blah blah blah. We’re twenty-something-year-olds who are deciding to have a baby and did the dance that’s required. The end. Easy, free, and not time consuming.
When those two blue lines pop up, am I going to be happy? Or will the sudden responsibility of carrying a child begin to overwhelm me? Am I going to immediately regret this decision and wish I waited just a bit longer? Or am I going to run to the closest bookstore and buy up every last parenting book? But, if there aren’t two lines at all. If only one goes straight down that fingerprint-size screen and says, ha, try again next time. Will I break down in tears? Will I mourn something that doesn’t even exist, yet? Or will I release a sigh of relief that I still have some time to just live for me?
What is living for me, anyway? My whole life I haven’t had a clue what to do or where to go and I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for other people. I’m not saying I haven’t tried or worked, that’s not true. But, this life, these ideas, none of them were mine. Knowing this has caused quite the imposter syndrome, but hey, at least I do my job. I guess, maybe being a mom will be really good for me. It’s the one thing I know I always wanted—a family of my own. Maybe, I can really put my heart into this. Maybe, this could be my passion.
I slowly avert my gaze from the tiles on the floor, hesitant to make eye contact with the test that’s practically mocking me at this point. Just get it over with, come on, Lissa. With one eye open, I make contact with the test. The lines on the tiny screen are practically glowing. Pregnant.
You’re having a baby. I’m going to be an auntie!
Time freezes for just a moment. I can’t feel a single thing—for just a moment. There’s a person growing in this shell of a vessel that I am. A whole person. Dizziness washes over me, I don’t know anything right now. It seems as if this test alone has shoved me into a black hole where nothing else existed but it and I.
Come on, Lissa . . . You’re pregnant.
My heart races with excitement as I hop off of the toilet seat and hold the pee test in my shaky hands. I want to frame it. I want to take a picture of it and send it to every contact on my phone. There’s no doubt, just pure joy overcoming my spirit as I take in the sight. This is happening. Every daydream, every wish upon a star to finally be the one that Xavier will come home to forever—is happening.
Immediately, I grab my phone and pull up Xavier’s contact.
I write, We did it. I’m pregnant. I insert a photo of the test, and press send.
“Where’s my beautiful girl?” Xavier’s tone is the most pleasant sound I’ve ever heard. Just from the way his words ring through the condo alone, you can tell he’s smiling from ear to ear.
“In here!” I call out, curled up in the thousand thread count bedsheets.
It takes a few moments before Dixie comes running in moments before Xavier. In his hand is a huge black box. “I got you something.”
I slowly sit up. “You got me a pregnancy gift?”
“Eh. The timing is just fucking sweet, so sure.”
“Why didn’t you just say yes?”
He let out a chuckle before placing the obnoxiously large box on the bed. “Come on, look.”
“I’m scared.”
“Then I’ll do it for you.” His large hands begin unwrapping the ribbons before pulling the top off. Blue, puffy fabric basically pops out of the box. “Surprise.”
“Oh my . . . ” My pupils expand and all I can do is slowly pull the dress out of the box. “This is a ball gown.”
“For your big night. I thought, why not get you something special and way too expensive to wear. Plus, now that I know we’re actually having this baby . . . it felt right.”
My eyes begin to water, which only makes sense since my emotions have been sky-high all day. I wrap my short arms around Xavier’s neck, not wanting to let him go for a moment. “I love you so much . . . and I’m so happy this is happening for us.”
“This is all I’ve ever wanted.”
“I didn’t know that . . . ”
Xavier pulls back from the hug for a moment, his brown locks falling down onto his forehead. “I never told you.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been there before, didn’t go well . . . And after that, I was terrified to try again. But I’m not scared anymore with you.” His eyes make contact with mine before he smirks. “My Cinderella.”
My plump lips form a smile as I place a quick kiss on his forehead. “You’re going to get the family you deserve, I promise.”
He clears his throat before backing up from me completely. “Before I forget, I know you’ve been asking to go back to brown or a brown-blond thing . . . I don’t know how that shit works so—”
“Oh my God, I can stop bleaching my fucking scalp?”
