Page 30 of Forget Me Not

“I appreciate that. But there’s nothing a doc can do. It’s just a bug. It’ll pass.”

“You’re probably right. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“You’re not pregnant, are ya?”

My eyes shoot open and I lift my head off the wall. “Hell no, I’m not pregnant. I’m not an idiot, Dex. I’m always safe.”

My mind wanders back to the darkest point in my life, when desperation ran hot and I let my guard down.

The night the mayor of Mayville raped me. Which was exactly five weeks ago. Shittttt.

“Dex,” I say softly. “I gotta go.”

I end the call and return to the toilet, only this time, the only thing that comes up is a mixture of bile and foam. The acidic taste lingers in my throat and causes my stomach to convulse violently.

After dry heaving for a good five minutes, I wipe away the tears and sweat on my forehead and stagger unsteadily to my feet.

Making a beeline to the nearest pharmacy, I use the last of the money I have to figure out if I really am sick or if I have a whole new set of problems to worry about in my godforsaken life.

Twenty minutes later, I'm in the bathroom of the twenty-four-hour drugstore, staring at the pregnancy test in disbelief. Two pink lines stare back at me. Two little dashes that bring the weight of the world crashing to my shoulders as they change everything. A numbness like no other consumes me from the inside out and I crumple to the dirty floor and cry like I haven’t allowed myself to since losing my mother.

I can’t even take care of myself. How the hell am I supposed to take care of a baby?

That night was a turning point for me—at least, I had hoped it would be. I pulled myself together and made a promise that I was going to do better. In an hour's time, I made plans to get a job and find a room to rent. I was going to do it, all on my own. The baby was the wake-up call I needed to live a better life. Not just for me, but for us.

My heart hurts just thinking about it. For a brief moment in time, I felt like everything I had been through up until that point was worthwhile. I learned to fight for myself, to survive, all for my precious baby.

Before my eyes shut that night, I had fallen in love with the life growing inside me, despite the monstrous nature of its conception. There was a fierce surge of protectiveness that wrapped itself around my soul and I promised I would do everything in my power to keep my innocent baby out of harm's way, out of this life. I was going to find a way to give him or her the world.

Two weeks later, I failed us both.

* * *

Tears stingmy cheeks for the first time in a while, and after falling asleep to the sensation of them running down my face, I wake up with my heart still heavy.

I’d hoped a nap would cure the ache in my chest. It’s not often I allow my mind to visit that dreadful part of my past. It’s best if I try not to think about it at all. I have no time to dwell on the things I can’t change. All I can do is hope for a better tomorrow. Even if tomorrow is worse than today, I’ll never stop searching for the light at the end of my tunnel.

Forcing myself up, I go over to the antique dresser full of drawers I’ve never filled. Sitting on top is a Ziploc bag that I put packets of forget-me-not seeds in.

I unzip the seal and pull one of the packets out before wandering quietly to the front lawn of the bed-and-breakfast.

In nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a tee shirt, the cool air laces my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms.

Ripping the top of the packet off, I whisper into the wind, “Guide me, Mama. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Tipping the pack upside down, I sprinkle the seeds on a small mound of dirt beside the stairs directly out front and push them into the ground with my bare toes, making sure they are covered in soil.

“Rhea,” a familiar voice calls out. My eyes shoot up and I see Tyler standing in front of the wrought iron gate to the B&B. “Did you miss the memo that it’s not summer anymore?” The smile on his face brings back an ounce of the hope I’d lost. It’s crazy how just a simple expression has that sort of pull on a person.

I slap my hands to my thighs with a grin. “Seems so.”

“You know the frost coming is going to put a damper on your seeds sprouting?”

I giggle, my heart already feeling lighter. “I considered the possibility.”

There’s a good chance the flowers won’t bloom, but there’s always a chance one survivor in the pack might. It’s sort of a metaphor for my life. Girls like me don’t make it big. Hell, we barely make it at all. But I keep moving forward, knowing that there is always a chance for a better tomorrow.

---