Page 17 of A Lie so Dangerous and Fragile

“Hey, wifey.”

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Dying

THREE YEARS AGO

It’d been a week since I’d arrived in Cuba and checked into a hotel suite. I had not left the room or opened the drapes to get a glimpse of the sun. I had been in the dim bedroom for days, feeling dead and lost inside. I had no desire to leave my bed or do anything.

Nothing mattered to me. I didn’t care if I died of starvation or the fact that I had not taken a shower in five days. The bar of chocolates and bags of sour candy I’d had in my handbag was finished, and I couldn’t bring myself to order room service or go down to buy something to eat. I only wanted to sleep and never wake up. That was all I did—sleep for hours to avoid feeling anything. When I woke up, I just stared at the wall, and all the dreadful and gloomy thoughts fill my head. A heavy weight pressing against my mind and soul.

I’d thought the pain would stop, but it only got worse each day, and the damn pregnancy wasn’t helping. Some days, my emotions were all over the place. I threw up almost every day and cried over the smallest things. Like this morning, I’d teared up because the pillow I was reaching for fell off the bed.

Everything was on override one second, and the next, it was as if someone had cut off my power supply. I had been ignoring Belvina’s and Adrian’s calls. I didn’t know where I’d left my phone, but I had been hearing it vibrate somewhere in the messy room.

I didn’t know what day or time it was. I could hear the sound of the TV from the living room and the noises of people down the beach. It irritated me. I fought every nerve urging me to open the window and yell at everyone to shut up and go to hell.

I groaned as my bladder kept reminding me for the nth time that I needed to pee. I forced myself out of bed and crawled to the bathroom. My body ached and was in desperate need of a massage. I dragged myself to the toilet seat and relieved myself.

I looked around the large bathroom. The counter was littered with my toiletries, and empty water bottles, towels, and some clothes were in a pile next to the bathtub. I prevented the cleaners from coming into the room with the sign outside.

I didn’t want to know what I looked like. I’d been avoiding the mirror, scared to see myself.

I cleaned up and flushed my business away. I returned to the room and lay on the bed, pulling the duvet to my head and sinking into the bed.

Why do I still miss him? Why won’t he leave my heart or my head? Why does every memory of us taunt me? I want to forget. If I could wake up with amnesia, I’d appreciate that, Fairy Godmother.

I found myself in tears again as the heaviness in my chest returned. I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed deeply, like a baby who didn’t get what she had asked for.

Baby? No! No! No!

I closed my eyes and tried to wish it away, to convince myself there was nothing growing in my uterus.

***

I didn’t know what time it was, but I woke up, craving cake—chocolate cake. I needed it so bad. I held my hair back with a hairband I found on the nightstand and got out of bed. I searched for my phone and found it under the couch. I checked the time and sighed in relief. It was almost midnight. I could still get cake.

I reached for the hotel desk phone and ordered a whole cake. I lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. All I could picture was a big-ass cake.

“Please bring my cake,” I grumbled.

I started humming a song about cake. I tried to remember the lyrics. “Talk to me, baby. I’m going blind from this sweet, sweet craving. Whoa-oh. Let’s lose our minds and go fucking crazy. Ah, ya, ya, ya, ya. I keep on hoping we’ll eat cake by the ocean …”

I paused and stared at the door, waiting for someone to knock and hand me my cake. “How long is it taking them to bring my cake?!” I screamed.

A knock on the door sent me flying to the door, but when I opened it, I felt irritated. The lean guy smiled at me, but I glared.

“If someone had told me the service here was this bad, I would have picked another hotel. It’s been hours since I asked for a cake. I could have died, you know,” I scolded.

“Um … it’s only been fifteen minutes since you ordered, ma’am. Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said calmly in a thick accent as he tried to show me the receipt.

I took a glance at the wrapped box that held my cake. I hoped I’d get a refund. “I don’t want it anymore,” I sighed and closed the door.

I walked back to the bedroom and lay on the bed, staring into space as the void engulfed me. I whimpered as waves of unsettling emotions sucked all my energy. I didn’t understand anything anymore. I burst into tears.

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