Chapter 11
Misty
T wo years later.
I sigh as I look at Sylvester. The baby has dumped his food all over his head, and smiles at me through the orange mush, his chubby cheeks round and blue eyes sparkling.
“Mama,” he burbles. “Mama, Mama.”
I smile ruefully because this child is the greatest love of my life, and yet also the bane of my life.
I never knew that I could feel such incredible adoration, and yet Syl drives me out of my mind sometimes!
Like right now, for instance. We scrape by on the tips from my waitressing gig, and I can’t afford extra baby food.
Hell, I can hardly even afford the tiny apartment we live in, not to mention utilities, clothing, and doctor’s appointments for my growing boy.
Syl is still small, but he’s completely upended my life in every meaningful sense.
Needless to say, things ended badly with his fathers two years earlier. I stood on the porch that afternoon, my eyes dry and hot as I waited for the black car to come. Sure enough, said vehicle arrived, and I got in without looking back at the cabin.
“Miss Earnshaw?” the chauffeur asked.
“Yes,” I managed in a steady voice. “To Evergreen College, please. The Trammell dorm.”
Then, I stared straight ahead as we set off down the mountain road.
But as we drove, another car zoomed up the same remote road with a young woman in the backseat.
I only caught a glimpse of the girl, but she was brunette and beautiful, with wide-set blue eyes and a tip-tilted chin.
Most of all, she looked excited, and suddenly, I knew exactly who she was: Chris and Brett’s next hook-up .
The fuckfest was continuing, and my two alpha males would be in bed with the new girl in an hour, savoring her curves as she screamed and cried out with ecstasy.
Me and my hissy fit were already old news.
I broke down then. I could no longer hold back the firestorm of emotions brewing in my chest. I’d been a model of dignity and reserve, confronting the alpha males without losing my cool.
But the reality of the girl in the back of the car shattered my resolve, and I began to sob and heave as we drove.
“Ma’am, is everything okay?” the chauffeur asked, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. “Can I offer you some water?”
“Nuh-uh-oh-oh-oh,” I blubbered, shaking my head. “Just drive!”
It’s pathetic, but I cried for the entire three-hour trip.
Then, I dragged myself back to my dorm room, and cried for another solid twelve hours, unable to hold back the flood of emotion and tears.
I felt betrayed, broken-hearted, and horrified at my own na?veté.
Chris and Brett are ruthless corporate sharks, and they bring that kind of remorseless edge to their personal lives as well.
Hell, this wasn’t even personal. The two men were in a cabin for a month, fucking a parade of young women, and that was the plan all along.
None of it was personal. It’s me who made it personal.
I resolved to put it out of my mind. It would be a “lost weekend” that never happened.
In fact, I was so successful in compartmentalizing that I didn’t think about the menage for two months until I realized I hadn’t gotten my period.
Slowly, horror overtook me. Could it be . ..? No, because I was on birth control!
But the pregnancy test was positive, and I called Jenna immediately, crying as snot dripped from my nose.
“I’m pregnant!” I blubbered. “From my weekend with the mountain men! I’m expecting their child.”
My friend was enviably calm, her pretty face composed.
“No, you can’t be,” she said. “Sweet Lies requires us to be on birth control. It’s just a mistake. Those home tests are garbage.”
I shake my head.
“I am on birth control!” I whisper, my hands shaking. “But I got pregnant because contraception is never one hundred percent.”
“But most slip-ups only happen if there’s an accident, like if a condom breaks,” Jenna says in a calm voice. “But there was no accident because you’re on the pill, so I don’t get it. Were you taking antibiotics? Anything that could mess with the oral contraceptives? Did you miss a pill?”
I shake my head, tears pouring down my cheeks.
“No, I never missed a dose.” Suddenly, a thought strikes. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping though, and I’ve been using St. John’s wort as a remedy. Do you think that could be it? Nooooo!” I wail.
Jenna fumbles for a moment, staring at her phone.
“Let me look it up,” she murmurs, tapping away.
Then she raises her head, her face drained of color.
“Misty, I don’t know how to tell you this, but it says on this website that St. John’s wort doesn’t mix well with chemical contraception.
It says, ‘ A study shows that women who took birth control pills and St. John's wort at the same time had higher rates of breakthrough bleeding and an increased breakdown of estrogen in their bodies, signs that the contraceptives might not work as well as they should .’”
Silence rings in my ears and I feel dizzy.
I literally collapse against the wall, my knees unable to support my weight.
I’m pregnant with Chris and Brett’s child, and all because of a supposedly innocuous herbal remedy meant to address my insomnia.
The staggering unfairness was a blow, and I could hardly breathe.
But there was no relief because now, I was having a child.
I had no thought of termination nor adoption because I can’t live like that.
It’s fine for other women, and I support a woman’s right to self-determination.
But for me, keeping and loving my child is the only option, and as a result, Sylvester was born about eight months later.
By then, I’d dropped out of school, and was residing in the big city.
Life is more expensive in Minneapolis, but my waitressing tips are also more substantial.
Most of all, the diner that I work at was willing to hire a pregnant lady, and keep my job for me after delivery too.
The owner, Belinda Santos, has five children herself, and I think she took pity when she saw a girl in ragamuffin clothes with a desperate air.
She knows what it’s like as a single mother, and was kind to a younger woman in the same shoes.
But I don’t make a lot, and Syl and I skate by on the edges of survival.
It’s okay, though, because we don’t need much.
As long as I have my baby, I know we’ll be fine.
Still, nutritious meals are a necessity that can’t be ignored, and Sylvester just dumped his lunch all over his head.
I’m going to have to rustle up more food, otherwise he’s going to be crying from an empty tummy in a few hours.
“Come on,” I say, patting his chubby face with a warm washcloth to clean him up. “We’ll get you into your stroller, and then go for a walk to the grocery store. Would you like that? More food for Little Silly?”
My son burbles up at me, unaware that he’s even goofed.
“Mama,” he says. “Mama.”
My heart floods with love, and I press a tender kiss to his black curls.
“What would I do without you, Little Silly?” I ask. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
It’s true too. Although I was alternately resentful, horrified, and ashamed that I’d gotten pregnant, the moment the baby was born and laid across my chest, every motherly instinct I had bubbled up inside.
I looked down at his red squalling face, scrunched up with tears, and immediately fell in love.
Maybe Sylvester’s fathers don’t want me, but they gave me a child, and I’m eternally grateful to them.
I’ll always be grateful to Chris and Brett for this wonderful gift.
Now, my baby and I set out with the stroller, and it’s a gorgeous day. Minneapolis has its charms, and we walk downtown, to where the Stop ‘N Save is located.
“I have some coupons, so how about the turkey meal?” I ask Sylvester, pausing in the baby food aisle. I swear he understands because a big smile breaks out on his face, and he bobbles his head.
“Mama,” he says. “Mama.”
I grab a glass jar of baby food, and then throw in another for good measure. “We can afford two,” I say in a light-hearted voice. “With this coupon, we can splurge!”
But when we get to the check-out, my credit card is denied.
“I’m sorry,” the clerk says with a regretful air. “But your purchase isn’t going through.”
I stare, red-faced and embarrassed.
“But it’s only five dollars,” I whisper, my eyes hot. “Is it because I’m using a coupon? Could I buy just one jar then?”
The woman shakes her head regretfully.
“No, it has nothing to do with the coupon. I’m sorry, but it’s your Cross card. Maybe you went over your credit limit? I’m sorry, ma’am.”
I blink back tears because I’m overextended. I know I am. I’m carrying huge balances on three cards because there’s no other way for me to survive. But this is a question of eating or not eating for my baby, and frustration wells up inside.
“But what am I supposed to do?” I ask in a desperate voice. “My son needs food.”
The cashier shakes her head regretfully.
“Maybe take it to the Cross Company?” she asks. “We’ve had problems with their cards before. Customers get denied when they try to charge something, and they say they’ve never missed a payment either. Cross is just across the street,” she says helpfully. “Maybe they can do something for you there.”
I nod woodenly, my eyes stinging with repressed tears.
“Thanks,” I say. “Come on Sylvester.”
Then, I walk out of the store, my baby in the stroller in front of me.
Sylvester has no idea what’s going on, and I’m about to turn and go home when suddenly, rage fills my chest. This is so unfair because I’ve been paying my bills!
I’ve only been able to make the minimum payments each month, but still, they’ve been getting my money, and my card shouldn’t have been denied!
This is a huge mistake, which is going to result in my son going hungry, and in a fit, I decide to confront the people at Cross.
“Come on, Sylvester,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “Let’s give them a piece of our minds.”
We storm across the street to the looming corporate office tower, intent on doing some real damage ... even if I’m nothing more than a single mother with a hungry baby in tow.