Page 12 of Tarek

“Sticks, I can’t.” Before I could complete my sentence, she takes a step back.

“What’s that in your hand?” Her eyes are fixed on the paper that I am holding.

“All I need is five years, we can work this out. That’s all I need Sticks,”

She shakes her head; her gaze never leaves my hand. “What is that in your hand?”

“You can go to pre-med, and we can get married after. Just wait for me please,” She would never understand the hell I have been through. The debtors that came to my door late at night with threats of violence. Now those same men cower at me.

“What is that in your hand, Dereck?”

With one finger, I lift her chin. “I love you, Sticks.”

“Just not enough. What’s in your hand?”

My heart screams at me to rip up this paper. Tell her it’s nothing and just let it go. But I can’t. I take her hand, open her palm and gently lay the paper on it.

She inhales as the first tear drops. Bending her head, she reads the paper and steps away again.

“What is this for?” Her voice trembles, her hands tighten onto the paper.

“After you abort the baby, you will need money to—” The shredding sound of paper stops me mid-sentence.

“What the hell are you doing? Sticks, no.” I can only watch as the shredded pieces drift down to the floor.

She reaches for her bag and walks to the door. “$50,000.00 that’s all my child and I are worth.”

“I can give you more.” I can feel it, I’m losing her again.

“You don’t get it do you. I don’t want your money. I just wanted you.” She blinks trying to prevent the tears from falling onto her cheeks.

“You have me,”

Her bitter laugh makes my gut tighten. “I don’t have you, money does.”

This baby can destroy everything, she doesn’t understand. I almost lost my home, my family.

“Sticks, you can’t have this baby.”

“Don’t worry yourself whether I keep it or not. Keep your money.”

I reach out for her fingers again, warm to the touch. “Four years, give me four years.”

“I am giving you nothing but a goodbye. You will never see me again.” She tugs her hands out of mine and leaves.

“Sticks, please. Don’t go.”

My legs give out under me, and I fall to my knees. Even with all the money, I have never felt so poor and powerless as I do now.

* * *

TAREK

I think it’sPride and Prejudicethat once said, “It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” How do I knowPride and Prejudice? I had a leggy German fuck-uation who was fucking obsessed with the book. I have endured more adaptations ofPride and Prejudicethan I care to admit. Honestly, I think Colin Firth was the best Mr. Darcy.

But here’s the thing: the second I heard that line, I knew a woman had written that book. Had to. Because I am a man, single and in possession of a good fortune and I have no fucking desire for a wife, child or family. To me a family is just a natural disaster with lawyers on speed dial. A tornado matching Christmas pajamas. A slow-motion crash where everyone is screaming, I love you while airbags deploy.

But do I love women? Yes, I find them to be beautiful, elegant and breathtaking. Do I want to spend the rest of my life with one? No. But I love lying between their warm thighs waiting for that moment of attainable bliss. Hence, I devised a system that is beneficial for both me and the woman that I choose to entertain for a time. Which brings me to where I am now, opening my black, mother-of-pearl inlaid, mid-century Chinese console cabinet.

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