"And that's it for today, class. You can start your assignments while you wait for the bell." Kiersey dropped the marker and walked out of the classroom.
Two girls appeared at her sides as she stepped into the hallway. One was a leggy white girl with chocolate wine hair and black eyes. She might only be sixteen and a sophomore, but she had the reasoning of an adult ten years older. She was Kiersey's favourite student in the eleventh grade Economics class.
The other one was shorter and curvier and had hair of a lighter shade of red. A black American girl with the mirth and lively bubble of a Santa. She was also on the list of Kiersey's favourite students.
"Are you okay, Mrs Lips?" The leggy girl asked, placing a hand on her arm.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, Peyton." She produced a smile to dispel their worries.
"You seemed a little off in class this afternoon," the other girl added, pouting her lips in thought. "Is the baby troubling you?"
If only you knew, Kiersey thought. If only.
She brightened her smile and stopped to pat her shoulder. "Really, I'm okay, Autumn. And the baby is fine." And so help her God to remain that way.
Autumn pouted her lips more. "Are you sure? You can tell us anything."
Kiersey sighed, shaking her head. Autumn's family lived in the same apartment building as her and had come across her one time after Rocco's anger episodes. Autumn had been coming to pay her a visit that day and she had forgotten to cover up her marks. Peyton had been with her that day and she had had to make them promise not to tell anyone. Autumn's aunt owned a Women's Shelter in a nearby town and the girl had been trying to convince her to go for it ever since that day.
But she didn't see the need to do that. There was just no reason to leave her life behind and go somewhere to leave in fear forever. Rocco might have his anger episodes once in a while, but every other time he was a good husband and loved her deeply.
But his words yesterday had her rethinking Autumn's persistent offer. She could run away, do it for her baby. Maybe she could.
She had gotten home yesterday late in the evening by Lyft Share to an empty house. Then she had spent all night crying her eyeballs out till sleep had gotten to her in the wee hours of the morning. The hospital number had called repeatedly, but she had ignored them. Waking up late a few hours later, she hurriedly prepared for work, hiding her physical and emotional pain behind makeup. Rocco was still nowhere to be found this morning and she had even looked for his car in the underground garage when she went to get hers for work.
"Mrs Lips?"
She brought her mind back to the present. "Yeah?" She smiled at Autumn and Peyton. "I'm fine. Go back to class, guys."
The girls wanted to say more, to ask more, but they went back to class at Kiersey's pleading look.
She sighed, watching them go. There was nothing they could do to help her. She tightened the faucet of the tears threatening to spill.
She would find a way of making everything alright. Rocco must have gone to think it over. He wanted a baby as much as she did and would see that keeping the baby was the best thing. School was closing in a few minutes, and by the time she got back home, he'd be back and would have changed his mind. If he wasn't home, she could always find him at his headquarters. She wasn't going to let the fact that he was ignoring her calls put her down.
And what if he didn't change his mind? The question came up from a more pessimistic and realistic part of her reasoning.
Her heart started to gallop at the thought. An invisible noose of fear tightened around her. What if he didn't, indeed? What would she do then?
Kiersey slapped a hand over her mouth to repress the cry of frustrated agony that was bubbling up in her chest.
Whatever it is, you'll get through it, Kiersey.
Assuring herself of this, she put on her happy front and made for the staff room.
~••~
It was a little past four when Kiersey arrived at home, tired and hungry from a whole day of keeping up a facade and simultaneously worrying her head into a mess.
She sighed and leaned against the wall as she swiped her key card to enter her apartment. All this emotionally tasking activity wasn't good for the baby. It would be an irony if she worried herself so much on how to save her baby and then the poor thing died from her worries.
She sighed again and stepped into the house. Maybe it was time to start that prenatal class. After she got the issue at hand settled, that is.
She dropped her handbag unto the nearest chair and trudged to the kitchen to get herself a chilled bottle of water. She sighed as she finished the contents of the bottle and planted her butt on the nearest kitchen stool. Her stomach grumbled and she yawned.
She hadn't realized how hungry she was for all the worry she had put herself through all morning. All those worries fearing Rocco's decision. Rocco was nowhere to be found, she hadn't seen his car in the garage (to her disappointment) and there was no presence of him in the house.
She would have to go look for him then. But before that, she needed to put something in her stomach to feed the baby and herself and to gain her energy back. A dish of leftover spaghetti bolognese stood out from the rest of the stuff in the fridge and she quickly microwaved it.
Nausea had begun to set in, and her first trimester wasn't even over. Not that she knew anything about the stages and new symptoms— she had never been pregnant before. She definitely was going to sign up for that prenatal class as soon as possible.
Kiersey wolfed down the improvised lunch and stared longingly at the fridge side bar. But she didn't dare go for any liquid. Her meal was going to come back up in a rush. Her nausea now applied to meals. Most foods didn't entice her anymore and she found herself craving for light or dry meals and snacks lately. And she had thrown up twice in the last week after drinking liquid of any form immediately after food.
So she grabbed a bottle and made for the bedroom to change out of her work clothes. When the food settled down enough, she'd have the water.
Immediately she stepped into the bedroom, she was hit with a feeling that something was odd. Kiersey frowned and looked around the room, trying to put her finger on what it was.
The walk-in closet door was slightly ajar, so was the bathroom door. Rocco's beanbag chair that always sat by the glass windows was gone.
She was at first horrified with the thought that they had been robbed before she remembered only Rocco and the building super had access to the house.
Her combing eyes found a double sheet of a paper lying on the wine duvet. Breathing heavily, she made for the paper, her heart skipping in her throat.
She scanned the paper and sat down on the ground with a bump. All colour drained from her face.
"No!"
Kiersey.I'm writing to let you know that I've left. I've had enough time to think this over and I've decided I can't do this. I can't stomach the idea of fathering another person's child. I'm not going to raise a bastard. And why should I wait for us to have another baby when I could easily have one just as soon?I'm going back to Sienna. She came back to me in January, just so you know. I turned her away, but now that your baby isn't mine, oh well . . .I would probably have waited for you to be back from work but Sienna is impatient, we're flying out in a few minutes. Besides, knowing you, your crying theatrics would only make me more late.Oh, and, I left your copy of the divorce papers on the dining table. Sign them and mail to the address on the form.Don't look for me, Kiersey. I'm never coming back.Best of luck,Rocco Lips.Hot tears casca
Kiersey rummaged through her clutch purse and finally came up with the Vix inhaler. She dabbed the little container of liquid on her little handkerchief and plugged a deep breath down her nostrils. The fresh heady mint smell filled her head and lungs, filtering out every other smell.Kiersey found herself smiling like an addict inhaling drugs as she pulled in the next minty fresh breath.Her nausea had started up again just this morning and after she'd thrown up her pancakes breakfast outside the hospital today, a pregnant stranger had advised her to get a Vix inhaler.God bless that woman.Tucking the Vix and the handkerchief back into her purse, she sat straighter and breathed in minted air. A redhead teenage girl and her mother came to seat beside her and she nodded her head in greeting. The two looked distraught and Kiersey wondered what could have brought them to this part of the h
"What is it this time?" she questioned in a squeaky voice. She could feel her tear ducts getting busy already."Mrs Lips, you must understand—""That you guys are a bunch of careless, useless crap? Just tell me what you've done wrong this time. Let me guess, there was a mix-up in the name?"The woman winced and gulped visibly, darting her brown eyes around the room, as if she felt Kiersey would attack her any minute and was searching for any form of defence."What is it?" Kiersey screamed, standing up from the chair. The woman's fidgety ways and expression was greatly pissing her off. If she kept on delaying the news anymore, she might just jump over the desk and scratch her eyes out.The elderly woman blinked and swallowed again. She wouldn't take her eyes off the sheet of paper. "The reason there was a mix-up was because the sperm sample had been tagged for discarding. We did a recent
The sun was just brightening up the afternoon when she pulled her brown BMW out of the hospital parking lot into the light traffic. She glanced at the digital clock on her dashboard and sighed.One twenty two.She had been rather been hoping to make it back to school in time for the second segment of the day after lunch break, but then, she hadn't known she was going to get some more bad news in the hospital—bad, perturbing news that would require her withgoing school for the day. On the hunt of a guy who lived on the other side of the city—and inadvertently, on the hunt of her sperm donor; her baby's daddy.She glanced at the piece of paper again. Ryan Vice. Twenty four years old. She was supposed to be looking for a Ryan Vice who lived in a trailer house in Springfield.She rubbed tiredly at her eyebrows. That was if she found him. People that lived in trailer houses didn't mean to stay in it for long, and Kiersey
She wasn't really shocked when, on getting to the trailer home, a big haired, kohl-eyed girl informed her in a monotone that no fucking Ryan lived in her home. Rather, she was just sad. It wasn't like she had expected to find Ryan Vice so easily, but confirming her suspicions still didn't hurt less.Chewing on the corner of her bottom lip, she glanced at the girl from the window of her beemer. The latter stood with her hips cocked on the extension porch and eyed her back. Kiersey swallowed the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed like she had caught her in her worst mood.She wondered if she get more 'friendly' information from the girl. She didn't look to be older than nineteen, or even eighteen and, from the torn pants and checkered top she had on, Kiersey didn't think she was well off. She wondered if she could dare offer her money for some more information. How would the girl see that?But then, she reasoned, she m
It was almost two thirty when Kiersey found herself back on the highway on her way home. She pressed a button to ease down her window and breathed in fresh air. Her hunger pangs were acting in again. After the pancakes she had thrown up this morning, what remained was the diet coke she had bought from a vending machine in the hospital and the junk from the gas station. If she had been in school, she'd have bought lunch or even made one in the staff lunchroom.She sighed and leaned back in her seat. But she was stuck trailing a nameless, faceless guy that had donated the sperm for her baby.The hospital had suggested utero testing of the foetus, it would have been easier that way to know without running around looking for the guy. But that also came with the risk of miscarriage and that was a risk Kiersey was most definitely not about to take.Ryan Vice was definitely in Cali. She was going to have to take days off
She took her finger off the indicator and stepped on the gas, going after the black car.As she zoomed after the car, the absurdity of the what she was doing struck her. She wasn't even sure if it was him. A cream sedan car had slid behind the Mustang, obstructing her view of the number plates.What even if it was him? she thought. What would she do? She had nothing with him and was even relieved to not be with him anymore. They were due for divorce mediation next week and then wouldn't have to see each other again for the rest of their lives. So why was she about to make her presence known?Yeah, he had lied about his whereabouts (if the Mustang was him at all), but that didn't mean a thing, did it? She couldn't care less if he had gone to Antarctica, or still lived somewhere in Illinois.So why was she on the chase after his car? she questioned herself again.
She struggled hard to fight it. She knew was was happening to her. Her disordered senses had probably decided it had had enough and was shutting down—she was going to black out. So she struggled hard to fight it. To push back the darkness that was steadily creeping towards her, shutting down everything in it's wake."No," she mouthed.She was aware of the strong, warm arms around her slowly lowering her into a warm cushion. Then she was aware of his face looking down at her in worry, it was the only thing in focus.He's probably going to call 911, she thought. Or the police. She had destroyed his car after all.Oh, the car.She remembered the fender bender and tried to shake her head. When had things gone from plowing into a car to fainting? She wasn't fatally wounded and dying, was she?Still confused, she struggled to grasp the reins of her world. She