Page 51 of Tossing It

“Fine, fine.” I concentrate on the white painted, cement block wall and close my eyes and piss. “Shake it,” I say when I’m done. “Don’t want to drip on the floor.”

“Shake it yourself.”

“Why aren’t you more accommodating in my recovery, huh?”

“Because we need to talk, Leif. I held your dick while you peed. Pretty sure that counts as helpful.”

Reaching down, I shake my cock a bit and stand up straighter against my walker. “And seeing as you could have held your own dick, I’d say you’re the one not being accommodating. It’s been a long time. We have so much to talk about.”

Reality stings. She said she loved me, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t move on without me. “Honesty. You were about to give me more of that,” I remind her.

Malena frowns. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I have to sit down for the truth? Yikes.”

She bites her lip. “I didn’t say it was bad. I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry about me. Never worry about me. I’ll always be okay.”

She guides me back into bed and lifts the shoulder of my hospital gown back on my shoulder when it drops off. “You are so weak.”

“And frail. What this doesn’t do it for you?” I ask, holding my arms out to the sides.

Her eyes smile, then she closes them, blinking away tears. “I thought I lost you. You have no idea what that feels like. You don’t get to tell me not to worry. I’ll do whatever I want.”

I scoot over and pat the spot next to me on the bed. Someone must have walked in the room and then right back out during the bathroom trip because my door is closed now. I bet dad had a disbelieving smile when he watched Malena help me pee. He helped me bathe this morning, wheeling the chair into the large shower stall so I could shower and wash away the months of hospital etched into my skin. The water was hot and I only needed help washing my hair.

Malena sits next to me, tucking her feet underneath her body. “I’m sorry about that,” I whisper, as she brings her head against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Malena. My sister told me.” Time has changed so many facets of everyone’s lives it’s hard to make out which way is up. To me, the gunfight feels like yesterday. I’ll be catching up on everything and everyone for months.

“Thanks. It’s been hard, but I have to believe she’s in a better place and she’s herself,” Malena says. “Everyone at Garden Breeze was amazing, by the way. They took a traumatic situation and made it seem less horrific.”

I swallow, the acidic taste in the back of my throat leaving a bit. “Thank God for small miracles,” I reply, trying to pull her closer.

“I’m going to start at the photos,” she says, sighing. I nod against her head. Then she tells me the story or her mother getting sick and the pregnancy she never thought she’d have. The shock. The terror. The words I said about not having a family. The rules. The words I said about notwantinga family. The wordsI said. Malena says things that break my heart. She’s been alone in this all of this time.

Dylan was an ex that meant very little to her. She says her pregnancy was the catalyst to finding her strength—realizing she was good enough regardless of what her ex-husband told her, or what anyone else thought about her as a person. She explained to me what she was feeling in the photos that Eva took, and her guess as to what Dylan was feeling in the images, and how it was skewed.

I stay silent as she goes on, her voice a sweet lull that brings me a peace only she is responsible for. “I wanted you to have the life you wanted. When you never responded to my email, I assumed I won—you would stay away from Bronze Bay and never come back. I’d take the repercussions of our love and run because at least I have her. Our daughter. She means everything to me.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” I admit, taking in a large breath that sears. Pressing my lips against her head, I put myself in her shoes and am absolutely horrified. Dying in this bed would have been easier than what she’s had to endure on her own.

“After my mom died, she left a note. I just recently found it. She remembered after you visited and wrote it all down. The conversation between you both. How you told her you wanted a family with me. A baby,” Malena whispers, meeting my gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

I swallow. “Because you couldn’t have kids, Malena. I wanted you in any form I could have you. Even if that meant never having kids. I’d have you. Never for a second think would I be burdened by our child. That’s a dream come true. I’m sorry for not telling you. You can’t help who you fall in love with. I fell in love with a woman who couldn’t have children. Maybe we would have adopted one day. Who knows? She remembered? That’s so ironic when you think about all of the things she could have remembered.”

She sobs into her fist. “It’s a miracle Luna is here. I wish I knew about her letter earlier. Maybe you could have come back to us sooner if I was here.”

“Luna,” I say, testing the name. “That’s her name? Our daughter?”

Malena smiles through her tears and nods. “She’s beautiful.”

My heart races. “Can I meet her now?”

“You’re ready?” Malena asks. “It’s a lot. All of this.”

I nod. “Born ready. No pun intended.”

“The act of not wanting kids was pretty convincing,” Malena says softly, drifting back to our conversation.

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