You Don't Own Me(128)

‘Hey,’ I say and sit beside him.

‘Hey yourself,’ he replies. There is something in his voice that makes me turn and look at him closely.

‘What have you been up to?’ I ask.

He kicks at something by his feet and an empty bottle of Scotch rolls out and hits the table leg.

‘I see.’

‘I’ve confirmed the appointment for the scan and biopsy tomorrow at nine in the morning,’ he says.

‘I’m not going.’

‘Yeah? Why not?’ His voice is vaguely aggressive, as if he is just getting started.

‘Because there is no point, is there? All that will happen is they’ll confirm what Dr. Freedman said and increase the chances of the pregnancy terminating.’

‘Jesus, this just gets worse and worse,’ he mutters furiously.

I touch his arm. ‘BJ? Remember when you said you’d do anything for me?’

He closes his eyes, the anger dying out of him.

‘I really need you to do something for me now.’

He opens his eyes. They are so black they are like holes in his sad face. ‘I want to tell you something,’ he says quietly.

‘OK.’

He looks at me, his face twisted with bitterness. ‘It’s not going to be pretty.’

I don’t speak. It is as if the air is made of the most delicate glass, cold and breakable. I feel scared. There is already so much on my plate and I am afraid I will not be able to cope with whatever he is going to tell me. My head inclines so slightly it’s almost not perceptible.

‘I’ve never told anyone. I don’t even allow myself to think it.’

I stare at him, hardly daring to breathe.

‘Do you want to know why I fight? Why I used to be so goddamn crazy in the pit that I almost killed a man once?’

I remember the way he had attacked his opponent in the pit. It was vicious and merciless. A light breeze ruffles his hair and drops it to his forehead. His eyes are vulnerable and defenseless. Yes, I can handle anything about him. Anything. I nod.

‘At my birth, my mother was incorrectly told to push before she was fully dilated. It ruptured her cervix and she lost the ability to ever again carry a child to full term. After that, she lost four children: A boy at 18 weeks, a set of twins—a boy and a girl—at 22 weeks, and another girl at 21 weeks. There were others that fell out as lumps of blood in the toilet. It ruined her life.’

I shiver at the thought.

‘My father had a smile identical to mine. Everybody thought so. They also thought he was the perfect father. No one knew that he blamed me for the deaths of my siblings, or that he often battered me senseless.’

I stare at him in shock.

He smiles bitterly. ‘Yup. He had hands like raw meaty hunks. Broke my jaw twice, he did. He claimed he was toughening me up, but I think he enjoyed it. Abusing me was entertainment for him. I understood what he wanted early on. He wanted to see me cry. I’d be screaming inside, but I never cried. I kept it all inside. All the rage. All the pain. All the hurt.’

‘Oh, BJ,’ I gasp.

‘From the time I was fifteen, I’d walk around looking for a fight. I’d walk into a bar or a club, and all it took for the rage to take over, for me to send a guy to the hospital, was a wrong look. Any provocation, no matter how small or insignificant, was enough to fill my guts with fury. I was a ticking time bomb.

‘It poisoned my bloodstream. Every once in a while I had to let it out in a safe environment. Like a bloodletting. Stress relief. Every victory in the pit was a victory of my vulnerable, younger self over my father.’

I frown with confusion. ‘Then why did you tell me you trusted your father?’

‘I did. I trusted him to hurt me. He showed me the face that no one else saw.’

‘And your mother. Did she know?’

‘She knew. There was nothing she could do, but pretend. We both pretended.’

‘What happened to you is absolutely horrific, but why do I sense that you’re linking it with our child?’

‘I’m the spitting image of my father. I’m gonna batter that boy, Layla. I’m not going to be able to help it.’

I freeze. ‘You’re not your father,’ I whisper.

‘You don’t know that. Even I don’t know what’s inside me. His brutality created a monster.’

‘Oh my great, big hero, my heart, my love, you’re not your father. You’ll never be him. I don’t have even a second of worry that you’ll batter our Tommy. Not for one second. Your father was a monster. I know you’re not.’

He drops his gaze. ‘I don’t love this life enough to stay on without you. If you go, I want to go with you.’