Why The Bad Boy?

NO LETTER

"I'm dying for coffee," I tell Noah who is drinking a frappuccino as we paint the nursery room.

He stops rolling the sky blue on the wall. "Here, drink this apple juice."

"I don't want that crap! I'll eat the cinnamon bun," I whine. I've been hard on my friends, they have to endure this newly acquired attitude. In part, it has to do with the fact that I can't be with the father of my baby. He is saving me and I'm saving our baby. But who saves him?

The mail comes in today without a letter from Shane. I flip through envelopes, light bill, water bill, again and again, thinking I might have missed it. Shane writes every day, mostly to nag at me about what I should and shouldn't eat, about his new life with Carlos and his family. Shane is grateful to have them in his life and how he is now aware of what real work is like. How much he loves me and can't wait to hold, kiss, and taste me. How he can't breathe every time he thinks he will see the birth of our child. His first child. Yet, no letter today. I turn to my friends, Noah and Teressa, who are now on the floor resting and enjoying their coffee.

"There's no letter today, something is wrong. Oh, my god, something must be wrong."

"Maybe he got busy with the landscaping job, missing one letter doesn't mean anything," Teressa replies.

I pace the room holding my back for support, my huge stomach is heavy on my frame. "No, he never misses a day. Never. Something is wrong, I can feel it."

"Don't stress out, Karly. It's not good for the baby," Noah says and gestures to Teressa, "Turn the lullaby on."

Teressa rushes to do that and go to sleep begins to play. I wrinkle my face, "Really?"

Noah breathes in and out and strolls over to me, shifting his hands to the rhythm of the music. Then circles my tummy. I slap them off me. "I'm serious, something is wrong."

The doorbell rings. We all look at one another, I wasn't expecting anyone. Shane!

Teressa opens the door, she's the closest to it. A tall, sophisticated woman strolls in, her heels tap against the floorboard. She removes her sunglasses and scans the room, not acknowledging the people. "Exactly how I picture you'd be living."

"Marge?" I squeak. She found me. They... found me. With stung eyes, I back away.

Noah meets Marge, standing firm between us. "Please leave." he points to the door, "You're not welcome here."

Marge smirks. "I beg your pardon? As of today, we are going to be good friends, you and I, Karly." she takes stagnant steps forward, forcing Noah to inch back.

"I want nothing to do with you people. Leave!" I shout back.

"Even if it has to do with Shane? I promised you will want to hear it." She waits for my reaction. It works, she really knows how to get to me. Something is off, I know it.

"Leave us!" She tells the others. They look at me and I nod.

Teressa gets her purse and Noah opens the door, "We'll be at the coffee shop downstairs, text us if you need to," Noah says, shifting between Marge and me. I nod in agreement.

As soon as the door closes, Marges sits on the couch, puts away her glasses and presses her lips in pain. "I'll be brief," I can see she's been crying, her eyes are red and puffy a bit. "Shane is in a coma."

I gasp, "Is he alright?"

"No, he's in a coma. My son is in a coma," she sniffs. I sit next to her. She takes my hands, "You're going to be a mother soon. Wouldn't you do anything to save your son?"