10. Collins
CHAPTER TEN
COLLINS
I stare at him, listening to his words. My head’s already spinning with the fact that he bought me two fans. Something I know I won’t be able to fucking pay him back for, and if that wasn’t enough, he just told me he’s having an air conditioner installed.
“Next time?” That’s the only thing I can say about everything he’s thrown at me.
“Yes, next time.” He puts the container on the table and then pulls out the chair for me.
He’s brought a grilled steak and steamed veggies.
My mouth waters. “I want to do this. I’m going to be a part of our child’s life, that’s nonnegotiable.
Part of your life too. That we can negotiate, but I’m really fucking hoping you’ll have me. ”
The emotion washes over me like a wave hitting sand. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“Collins, sit. And eat.”
I sit as he fills a glass of water for me from the pitcher in the fridge. The cold air from the fan hits me right away, and I look up, seeing it moving side to side.
“Theo. How much were the fans?” Maybe I can start a list of what I owe him, in case I win the lottery.
“Why does it matter?” He sets the glass in front of me and pulls out the same chair he sat in last night.
Exactly like last night, he puts his arm around the other chair.
The light-gray T-shirt pulls over his chest. I grab the steak knife and fork and focus on cutting a piece, trying not to lust over him. Focus, Collins, focus.
“It matters to me.” I chew. The piece of steak melts like butter in my mouth. “I don’t want to owe anyone.”
“Good, because you aren’t going to owe me anything. You’re carrying my child.” My eyebrows immediately go up, and he corrects himself, “Our child. Let me help.”
I study the edge of my plate, not sure I’m up for this talk. Tonight kicked my ass. I’ve never been more tired in my life. It felt like every single muscle in my body was aching, and if I had the choice, I would sleep for a full two days straight.
“You’re tired.” I’m not sure if he’s asking me or telling me.
“Yeah.” I want to kick myself for admitting it. “But it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I was able to nap today for almost an hour between calls.”
“I’ll get out of your hair”—he gets up and walks over to the second fan—“as soon as I put this fan in your room.”
“Okay,” I sigh, taking another bite. I hear him in my room as I finish the steak, not even having the energy to enjoy it. “It wasn’t working,” he says as he comes back. “I had to put it on the other side.”
“Yeah, the plug next to my bed isn’t working properly.”
“You should get your landlord to look at that.” I don’t correct him.
“He did. It’s a couple of loose wires.” I shrug as I finish the last piece of asparagus. “Not a big deal. I don’t even use half of the outlets in my room anyway.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” I nod. “Can I get your number?” he asks me. I think about not giving it to him, but at this point, he knows where I live, and maybe if he has my number, he won’t just show up.
“I guess so.” I want to make a joke, but my eyes close. I swear I could fall asleep sitting on this fucking chair.
“Go to bed,” he urges me. “I’ll clean up and let myself out.” The energy I would have to expend fighting with him is just not worth it.
“Whatever. My phone is in my bag. Text yourself.” I motion with my hand. “See you later, or not.” I barely make it to my bed and under the sheets. He’s still moving around in my house, but I’m asleep too fast to care.
My eyes fly open as I sit up. I have just enough time to lean over the side of the bed to grab the little plastic pail I put there in case of emergency. The nausea rolls over me like waves crashing against the side of a rock wall.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, but not even that helps this time.
Instead, it sets up a whole other round of me being sick.
I sit in the middle of my bed, and my head hangs down.
I wait until it’s been more than five minutes since I haven’t been sick before I get out of bed and head to the bathroom.
I empty the bin into the toilet, rinsing it out a couple of times in the bathtub.
In the kitchen, the sunlight streams through the small window by the sink.
The fan on the counter still moves side to side, cooling the room.
I pick up the small bottle of soap, putting two drops into the pail before turning the water on and letting it soak.
In the dish rack, I notice the cleaned container he brought the food in, along with the utensils and the glass, along with a frying pan I haven’t used in two days, and a small mixing bowl.
My phone is on the counter, holding down a note that flutters every time the breeze catches it.
Collins,
Washed everything, but didn’t want to make noise putting it away. I made you some scrambled eggs with a couple of slices of bacon. I left it on top of the stove.
Text me when you get up.
—Theo
My eyes fly to the plate on the stove. I lift the round cover, finding fluffy scrambled eggs and two pieces of bacon.
I don’t think I’ve ever had someone make me breakfast, not even when I was a little kid.
I don’t have time to think about it because my stomach lurches.
I run to the bathroom, making it in time.
Whatever didn’t come up before makes its way up now.
At the end, all I’m doing is dry heaving; there is literally nothing left in my body.
I lie on the cool floor, no energy left in me. I close my eyes, and I don’t even know how much time passes as I drift off.
I open my eyes at the sound of my alarm. My body’s limp, and it feels like I’m stuck to the bath mat. As the alarm rings and rings, I slowly peel myself from the floor. When I’m standing, the dry heaving starts again. I know I won’t be able to work today.
Stopping the alarm, I pick up the phone and call Natalie.
“Hey, Collins!” Her voice is full of cheer and pep.
“Hey,” I sigh. “I really hate to do this, but I’m going to have to call out.”
“Call out?” she asks as if she didn’t hear me right. “You’ve never, ever called out before.”
“Yeah, I know.” I close my eyes and try to breathe in through my nose. “I must have eaten something that wasn’t good yesterday,” I lie. “I’ve been throwing up all night. I don’t think—”
“Oh no,” she interjects, “don’t even think about it. I’ll call in Freddy. He was looking for extra hours last week.”
“Great.” I feel less guilty knowing that at least someone will be able to cover my hours. “I should be good to go for my next shift.”
“I’ll text you later to check up on you. Stay hydrated.”
“Yeah.” I open the fridge and grab one of the Gatorades I have in there for this reason. “Will do.”
I take small sips of the drink as the phone pings, telling me I got a text.
Looking down, I see it’s him.
Theo:
Hey, hope breakfast was okay. Is there anything that you want for dinner tonight?
I pull up the text thread, seeing he texted himself and then added himself into my address book as a contact.
Me:
Test.
Theo:
It’s Theo.
I put the phone down and grab the bottle of Gatorade and my pail, not chancing throwing up everywhere, and go back to my room. I take one more sip of the electrolytes before lying back in bed. I turn to the side and look out the window, and before I even have a chance to sigh, I’m sleeping.
Knocking wakes me up. I’m in the exact same position I was when I went to bed.
There is no more light coming through the window.
I literally slept the whole day. I get up on my elbow and see it’s after eight in the evening.
I throw my legs off the bed, and I’m halfway to the door when the knocking starts again.
“I’m coming,” I call out, and unlock the door at the same time I turn on the porch light.
“It’s about fucking time,” my father hisses at me, walking right past. “What the fuck were you doing?” He’s wearing a pair of dress pants that have seen better days and a short-sleeved button-down shirt in a light beige that looks more brown with the dirt on it.
His chestnut-brown hair is thinning at the top, but pushed to the side.
“Come in, Dad,” I mumble as his beady brown eyes scan the room.
My mother saunters through the door. “Took you long enough,” she snaps. “You look like shit.” She’s wearing a short jean dress that isn’t as white as it used to be, with a baby-pink tank top. Her hair has a half white, half blonde thing going, the roots overgrown. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“Sadly, you found me.” My mother gives me a look of shock that I answered the way I did. I usually keep our conversations to one word. They usually contain the word no.
My father motions with his chin to the fan on the counter, puts his hands on his hips, and looks back at me with a smirk. “Look at her, all fucking fancy with an air-conditioning unit.”
“Can we fast-forward this visit and tell me what the two of you are doing here?” I turn my finger around in a circle, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed.
“We need help,” he says. “We got in on a special project that is going to blow up.”
I close my eyes.
“It’s foolproof.” My mother snatches up the piece of bacon from the stove and takes a bite. “We need about five hundred dollars to buy in.”
“I don’t know why you’re here.”
My mother slams the microwave door shut. She’s warming up the food that Theo made me.
“We got about $250. We just need the rest,” my father says.
“I don’t have it.” I fold my arms over my chest instead of adding, I’m not your personal ATM.
“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses at me. “Don’t think I don’t know how much you make.”
“Yeah, and it pays for”—I’m about to say my house, but stop myself—“my bills. My rent.”
“No one told you to move into a two-bedroom house,” he snaps back at me. “You’re one person, why do you need such a big place?” Ringing comes from my bedroom. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Yeah . . . when? Never?” The phone stops ringing and then starts again.
“You should get that.” My mother checks the drawers until she finds a fork. “Or I can get it while you write the check.”
“I’ll get my own phone.” I walk back to my bedroom as the ringing stops. The back of my neck suddenly tingles when I see the text that comes in.
Theo:
Just ran into your partner, said you called in sick. I’m coming that way. I’ll pick up food.
“No-no-no-no-no,” I chant to myself. I don’t have time to text him back and tell him not to come, and I definitely don’t want to call him when my parents can hear.
“We don’t have all day,” my father barks from the doorway. “I need the money.”
“I don’t have it,” I snap.
His eyes go to the second fan. “You got two?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Someone is living in the lap of luxury.”
“I borrowed them from a friend.” I shut my bedroom door as I return to the kitchen.
“Okay, well, why don’t we take one? I can pawn it, and you can get it back when you go to the bank.”
“No.” My mother has helped herself to a Gatorade and sits down.
Digging into the eggs as if I invited her to sit down and eat them.
There’s no way they’ll leave before they get what they want.
I feel the panic start to run through me.
The last thing I want is for Theo to show up now.
For my parents to see him and find out about the baby.
My plan was to wait until I was showing and then just tell them I was having a baby and didn’t know who the father was.
But Theo not taking the hint is making this so much more complicated.
“Fine,” I hiss and walk over to the cabinet by the microwave, taking out my checkbook. “I only have one hundred dollars. I don’t get paid for another two weeks.”
“You really need to learn how to save,” he says.
“Do you want it or not?”
“I have no fucking choice. This deal is too good to pass up. I’m going to have to figure out a way to come up with the other hundred dollars, but I think I can.” I sign the check and hand it to him.
“Now can you go?”
My mother eyes me, her head tilting to the side. “You’re up to something. Why are you trying to get rid of us?”
“You hiding something?” My father takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one.
“Don’t smoke that in here.” I move my hand side to side to block the smoke from getting to me. “I gave you the money. I have nothing left for you, so take it and leave.”
He takes a huge pull from his cigarette and blows the smoke right at me. “You know you can’t hide anything from us. We’re your parents.” He looks at my mother. “We’ll come back tomorrow to check on you.” He walks out, taking my mother with him.
As the door shuts, my head finally hangs down. “I’m sorry about that.” I put my hand on my stomach. “I really want you to grow up here”—a tear falls—“but maybe it would be better if we leave.”