Raw Deal (Beauty for Ashes: Book One) (44 page)

The only way out was an abortion. I had to do it. I just couldn’t have the baby.

I went online and read about adoption. That was probably the only other option, but I didn’t want to give birth just to give it away. And I was sure Carl would never let me.

I called the clinic and scheduled an appointment for next Tuesday when Carl would be at his seminar. I couldn’t look at him when he got home. I was sure he could see through me and see what I was planning.

***

I hadn’t been thinking clearly when I had agreed to marry Carl. I had been so confused and out of it that I hadn’t thought it through. Just because I was pregnant, it didn’t mean we had to get married. It wasn’t 1948 anymore.

I should have waited. I should have given it time. I should have thought things through rather than allowing Carl’s proposal sweep me off my feet.

My heart hammered to the point that I could almost literally hear it as I packed all the things I would need as specified by the clinic. I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I had to.

As I drove the twenty minutes to the clinic, my stomach churned nauseatingly. I wished it wasn’t happening.

By the time I got to the clinic and sat opposite the doctor in her office, I couldn’t speak. When she greeted me I nodded. When she asked if I was sure I wanted to go through with the ‘procedure,’ I nodded, although something within me flared. It wasn’t just a ‘procedure,’ it was a heartbreaking decision for me. Obviously, the doctor had seen it a million times before. Who could blame her for being so desensitized to it?

***

On Friday afternoon, I told Carl that I was going to see my mom and went for my appointment with Dr. Paula. I told her what I had done. She remained expressionless as I wailed and hiccupped, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose every second.

“You did that on Tuesday?” Dr. Paula asked.

I nodded. I felt like my heart was breaking, like it would never mend. But it wasn’t just my heart that was broken. I felt like my whole life was shattered and couldn’t be fixed. I had a husband that loved me because I was pregnant with his baby. The only problem had been that it may not have been his baby; and now the problem was that there wasn’t actually any baby anymore. How had I gotten myself into this mess? If I had listened to my mom and not married Carl, I would have been free to either have the baby or have the abortion, and I wouldn’t have had to care about what would happen with Carl.

Dr. Paula pushed a box of tissues across the table to me. “Does Carl know?”

I pulled out three tissues. “No.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I have to.”

“So what are you going to say?”

“That I lost it.”

“You’re going to say you had a miscarriage?” Dr. Paula started making her notes. “When are you going to tell him that?”

“I don’t know. I’m waiting for the right time.”

After Dr. Paula finished with her questions, she came around the table and surprised me by reaching for my hand. She squeezed it tightly. “Does your mom know about all this?”

“No, I don’t want to upset her. She has enough on her plate.”

“Lexi, I have a daughter that’s about your age, and no matter how much I had on my plate, I’d want to know if she was going through something like this.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“Maybe you can bring her with you to the next appointment.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t think so.

When I got home, Carl opened the door before I got to it. It was Friday night, but Carl hadn’t been out partying since I got pregnant.

I hoped I didn’t look as terrible as I felt. I knew that I did when he looked concerned. I walked into his outstretched arms. “What’s wrong, Lexi?” he asked pulling me into the apartment.

I started crying again. I couldn’t help myself. Carl led me to the bedroom and made me lay down. He rubbed my back for a while until I stopped crying.

“Where did you go?”

“I told you I went to my mom’s.”

“But I know that’s not where you went because I called there after I tried your cell phone and it was switched off.”

The nuts and bolts in my mind worked frantically as I searched for an excuse. I opened my mouth, but Carl continued.

“You’ve been down lately, Lexi. I thought it might just be because of the baby, but now I’m thinking there must be more to it, especially with you lying to me about where you go.”

“I just went for a drive. I had to think.”

“What’s up?” Carl knelt by the bed so that he was on eye level with me. “Tell me so that we can work something out. Stress isn’t good for the baby.”

I had to look away from Carl’s intense blue eyes. He was so concerned and here I was just lying my way through our marriage.

“Carl, I—” I choked on my words as another sob rose in my throat.

“It’s okay. Take it easy,” Carl said soothingly. “Take a deep breath.” He wiped a tear from my eye.

I needed to tell him about the ‘miscarriage’ now. I had to get it over with. If not, it was just going to drag on and on, and it was doing me no good.

“What is it?” Carl probed.

I considered telling the truth for a split second, but I quickly regained my senses. “I lost the baby,” I said flatly.

Carl looked blank for a moment, and then what I’d said seemed to register. He frowned slightly. “Really? Are you sure? How do you know? Have you been to the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you go without telling me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. It was while you were at your seminar.”

“Oh, Lexi!” Carl said softly. I was shocked to see that his eyes were filling up. “I’m so so sorry. What caused it? Maybe there was something I didn’t do to make you comfortable.”

I felt terrible. “No, it wasn’t your fault at all. You’ve been fantastic. Apparently, these things happen sometimes.”

Carl nodded, but he looked devastated. I had to close my eyes. I couldn’t bear to see his pain, and I didn’t know how I was going to live with myself after this.

After a while, Carl went to switch off the TV, which was still on in the den. He came back, undressed, and then threw on the boxer shorts that he liked to wear to bed. “Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Carl lay beside me, snuggling up close. “Try to sleep, okay?” He sniffed. “I know you probably don’t want to relive the whole thing, but if you can, I’d like you to tell me all about it in the morning.”

“Okay.” I touched his wet cheeks. “I’m really sorry.”

***

I returned home from class happier than I’d been in a while. In the few weeks since my abortion, I had managed to recover, and I had trained myself not to think about all the lies I had told Carl. I had succeeded in relegating everything to a deep vault in my mind that I was determined would remained closed. Carl and I had started a new episode, and I had vowed to be a true and a faithful wife from henceforth.

It was a lovely day. The sky was blue. The sun was shining. I felt good. “Carl,” I called as I unlocked the door. I knew he was home because the TV was on, although he wasn’t in the den. I found him in the bedroom. “Hey.”

I dropped my purse onto the floor and placed the book I was holding on the dresser. “I’ve got my cookery class in half an hour.” I could only cook a few dishes, so I was learning to cook some more so that Carl and I wouldn’t have order takeout so often. Besides, I figured that cooking was a part of my wifely responsibilities. It was the least I could do to make up for all my lies. Not that Carl knew I was making up for anything.

I didn’t know it was going to be so hot today. I opened my closet to change into something more comfortable. I looked over my shoulder at Carl when he remained silent. He was usually all over me, talking about one thing or another. “What’s up?” I was taken aback by the cold look he gave me. “Are you okay, Carl?”

“Are you really going to cookery class?” Carl held up a letter. “Or are you going for your post abortion check up?” He looked at the letter. “Oh, no, that’s next Wednesday. I suppose you must really be going to cookery class.” He wadded up the letter and threw it across the room.

My heart skipped a beat. I retrieved the letter and straightened it out with shaky hands. It was a reminder for my post abortion check up. I was busted. I wondered what was wrong with the abortion clinic. Why were they always sending letters and reminders?

My heart hammered in my chest, and my mouth went dry as I faced Carl. “Carl, I can explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” Carl bellowed, his face contorted with anger. He looked at me with such loathing that I felt about as big as an ant. He stood up and turned on me, and I shrank back. “You killed our baby! You killed my baby! And as if that wasn’t enough, you lied. You lied to me. How could you do that?”

“Carl, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Carl yelled. “Lexi, how could you do it? How?”

“I was scared, Carl. I thought it might not be yours, because I dated Dan for a few weeks when we broke up.” I’d thought a confession was the best way to go, but as soon as I spoke the words, I wished I could take them back.

Carl looked like he was going to explode. He grabbed me by the shoulders. “What?”

“It happened before we got back together, but I didn’t even know I was pregnant until you and I were together again. So I wasn’t sure.”

Carl shook me. His fury was visibly increasing a couple of notches. “I don’t believe this. You totally lied to me. So why did you marry me then?”

I felt like saying ‘maybe because I was confused, maybe because I wasn’t thinking right,’ but I bit my tongue. Somehow, I didn’t think Carl would appreciate such assertions.

He shook me wildly. “Who are you, Lexi? Who are you?”

I started to cry. Darn that clinic!

My tears seemed to infuriate Carl further. He let out a string of violent curses. “What are
you
crying about?” he pushed me hard, and I screamed as I slammed into the closet.

“What are you screaming about?” Carl yelled. “You want me to give you something to scream about?”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I said panicked. I pushed him away. “Carl, I didn’t mean for things to—”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Carl asked.

“Eventually,” I lied.

Carl’s expression was one of such hatred that I shrank back. “I thought I loved you. I don’t even know you.”

Those words hurt me like nothing else he could have said. “Carl, I don’t know how to say I’m sorry. I know you must hate me now, I understand that.”

“And I was such a fool to think that you loved me, too. I’ve been sitting here for four hours wondering why you would do this, why you would want to marry me if you didn’t love me. I just can’t understand. I just don’t get it.”

“What would you have done if I’d told you it might not be yours?”

“I would have told you to get rid of it if you wanted to stay with me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “No, I think you would have freaked out the way you are now.”

“Well, I’d have had every right to,” Carl barked.

We both fell silent. Carl glared at me, and I looked away. I turned to leave the room, and he pulled me back. “Where do you think you’re going?” he slammed me against the closet again.

“Leave me alone, Carl. I need to get out of here.”

Carl punched me hard across the left side of my face, and I dropped to the floor, too dazed to even scream. I lay there, my head throbbing with pain. I wanted to bolt for the door, but I knew I wouldn’t make it.

How could Carl hit me? Like that? I hoped that this was just a blind moment of rage. Even if it was, I wanted a divorce!

Chapter 54

Marrying Carl was the biggest mistake of my life. Of all the horrible things I’d ever thought could happen to me, having a violent husband had never crossed my mind.

Basically, I’d always seen my life going down one of two routes:

Route 1: I would be a glamorous supermodel, probably with a hot celebrity boyfriend that would one day propose in a suitably lavish way, and then we’d get married in a suitably lavish manner.

Route 2: I would be a fashion journalist for a top fashion magazine, and I’d get to fly all over the world to report on fashion shows and interview designers. I’d have a relatively unknown, but still hot, boyfriend who I would one day marry.

But, here I was, stuck with Carl, and skipping classes at college, because I couldn’t let anyone see my bruises. I’d tried every makeup trick I knew to cover them up, but I couldn’t completely hide them.

It was Friday night a week after the first time Carl had lost it. He’d apologized profusely after he’d calmed down, but on Wednesday, he’d been at it again, screaming at me because the guy in the apartment across the hall had winked at me when he came to borrow a can opener. I’d just returned from my post abortion check up, and I was not in the mood for a petty argument. Again, Carl had apologized when he’d calmed down, but I’d had enough of it.