Page 48 of Free to Fall

I handed him a glass of Hennessy. He took it gratefully, and when he asked where mine was, I just said, “I’m not drinking tonight.” He raised a brow but didn’t press it.

Dinner was quiet. Too quiet. My heart pounded louder than our utensils clinking on the plates. After a few bites, I put my fork down.

“Nasseem… I gotta tell you something.”

He looked up from his plate. “What’s wrong baby? You good?” I nodded. Then shook my head. My throat seemed to close, not wanting to get the words out that I needed to say.

“Egypt, what’s wrong?”

“I been sick.” I told him and he looked concerned.

“Sick how?”

“I just been feeling off. I thought I had food poisoning or something; I had to leave my studio session early because of it. But then I realized, the symptoms I had were specific.”

“Okay, what’s up. Are you dying or some shit.”

“No, Nasseem. I’m not dying.” I sighed and closed my eyes saying a small prayer. “I’m pregnant.”

His face went blank. I searched it for a sign—anything. Relief, excitement, maybe even joy. But in the end, all I saw was disappointment.

He put his fork down, leaned back in the chair, and exhaled hard. “How the fuck did this happen E?”

I blinked. “How? We’ve been fucking, Nasseem. A lot, regularly.”

“I thought you was on birth control.”

“I am. I mean—I missed a few pills but picked them back up.”

He sat up. “You was missin’ pills and didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t think it mattered! I talked to my doctor, and she said that?—”

“So, you just... what? Decided for both of us? You know I got shit goin’ on. Why would you do this now?”

My jaw dropped. “You think Iplannedthis?!”

“I don’t know, E. Shit look real convenient.”

I stood up so fast my chair scraped across the floor. “Nigga, are you accusing me of trying totrapyou?”

He stood too. “I’m just sayin’, you didn’t say nothin’. You ain’t think to tell me you wasn’t takin’ yo fuckin’ pills? That’s reckless as hell!”

I laughed bitterly. “You reckless too, Nas. You wasn’t askin’ questions when you was nutting in me like it was your goddamn job.” His jaw ticked. “You think I need your money? Your name?” I asked, voice shaking now. “I got my own damn money. My own name. I don’t need shit from you.”

He looked away. “I’m not ready for no kid right now.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“You need to get rid of it.”

A silence resounded through my home, so thick I could cut it with a knife. My ears rang and my brain went into overdrive trying to comprehend where the fuck this went left. Just a few weeks ago he was telling me he loved me, now I was being accused of trapping him.

“You want me to get an abortion?” I whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah. I do.” I slapped him, hard as fuck. So hard, I felt the sting in the palm of my hand. His head snapped to the side, and my own tears spilled over as I backed away, hands shaking.

“You lied to me. You don’t love me,” I said, voice breaking. “You can’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me like this.”

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