Save Me Page 9

  Marc said nothing. He didn’t care.

  Another brunette cuddled up to his side. Marc shrugged her away. Ace wandered away to the bookie of the event to collect his spoils. The payoffs weren’t as big because everyone put their money on Marc. Why wouldn’t they? He was unbeaten in the past ten races.

  “After party at my casa!” Ace yelled. “You’re coming. We’re celebrating.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  “I’ll ride with you.” Ace climbed into the Porsche. Marc sat down and pulled out of the lot.

  “What the fuck is up with you? You look like a little bitch moping around.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “The fuck it isn’t.”

  “It’s doesn’t matter. I won, didn’t I.”

  “We’ll find a way to raise your spirits tonight.”

  “Mhmm.” Marc agreed not giving a shit.

  Ace put on a good after party. His minions picked up enough alcohol to supply spring break in Cancun.

  Marc wandered around aimlessly with a Corona in hand.

  “Marc,” Ace called. Marc walked to his side. “This will make you feel better.”

  Ace had a line set out for him.

  “I don’t do coke, you know that.”

  “Whatever’s troublin’ you will disappear man. Take a hit.”

  Marc could use an escape. And why the hell was he holding back? This was who he was. He was never going to have the life he wanted. Never going to have Mercy. This was it. He might as well embrace it.

  “Fine.” Marc sat down beside Ace and took the straw from his hand putting it to his nose. The coke burned as he inhaled it and he almost instantly felt its affects.

  “Feel better man?” Ace asked.

  Marc wiped his nose and looked around wide eyed.

  “Yeah man, welcome to club.” Ace patted his back proudly. “Finally comin’ around.”

  Marc leaned back on the couch and looked at the ceiling.

  The next morning Marc felt worse than the prior night. The crash he felt when the drug wore off was worse than the depression he’d felt prior to doing it. He could see why people would become addicts, to take the pain away. He could easily become one, just flow with the rest of the gang, but a little voice tried to tell him no. Not to stoop that low. Marc had hit bottom.

  “I need you here by two. Got a fucking big deal going down,” Ace said into the phone.

  “Alright,” Marc said simply and hung up. He didn’t want to talk to anyone and was very to the point.

  At two o’clock Marc met Ace at his house. Hector, Ace, Marc, and John were all going to Lila’s Club in the Bronx for a deal.

  And so Marc life went, deal, race, deal, race. Slowly he began to lose himself further in the gang. He’d tried coke a few more times. Partied with the guys regularly. Let himself go. He wanted to forget the happiness he once had, so he’d never remember what happiness felt like, and then could move on. Until that time, he’d feel fucking wretched.

  *****

  Mercy

  Life in Quesnel was perfect over the following two months. The office staff was beyond helpful and she’d become friends with many in the company, the transition streamlined smoothly, and her life was charmed. All except for one aspect. How utterly depressed she felt. Like something was missing. And she knew exactly what it was. She wondered if that was why she felt so sick all the time. She was so miserable she was even making her body miserable. Amazing what the mind can do to the body.

  Mercy jogged out of bed early Saturday morning and knelt in front of the toilet.

  “Mercy,” her front door opened, “time to go hiking girly!” Carrie yelled from her doorway. Mercy couldn’t respond, she was too busy heaving.

  “Mercy?” Footsteps approached the bathroom. “Are you home?”

  “Don’t come in here,” Mercy mumbled.

  But Carrie didn’t listen.

  “Oh boy…” Carrie said seeing Mercy’s condition.

  “I don’t think I’m up to it this morning.” Mercy was going hiking with Carrie and Rod, another coworker, to the city wildlife park. It was a place to hike and mountain bike.

  “You’ve had quite a touch of the ‘flu’, as you call it, for some time.”

  “I’m miserable.” Mercy rest her head on the toilet seat.

  “And it’s funny how it’s only in the morning,” Carrie said meekly.

  Mercy didn’t answer her.

  “Are you sure it’s the ‘flu’?”

  “What else could it—” Before Mercy could finish, she started heaving again.

  “Oh dear me.” Carrie gagged at the sound of it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you sure its not…” Carrie trailed off.

  “Not what?”

  “Not morning sickness?”

  “I can’t have children.”

  “Maybe the doctors were wrong…that happens.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Carrie grabbed a wash cloth and wet it down with cold water.

  “Here.” She set the cold cloth on the back of her neck.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you going to be alright?”

  “Yeah.” Mercy stood up feeling slightly better, flushed the toilet, and brushed her teeth.

  “I’ll give you a call when we get back.”

  “I’m going back to bed.”

  “You do that.”

  Carrie left and Mercy collapsed back into bed. M I S E R A B L E.

  The next morning Mercy repeated the routine, hugging the porcelain throne. Carrie’s words began to return to her. Morning sickness. She thought about it. Her last period had been very light, she only spotted. And her period this month was a week late, but that wasn’t anything unusual for her. Her periods were never dependable or regular. Her doctors assured her she’d never have children, so it simply wasn’t possible. She’d never dwelled upon the fact, accepted it, but feeling the way she did and realizing again that having a child would never be a possibility made her feel down. The only children she would have would be adopted. She’d accepted that. There were plenty of children in the world that already needed homes.

  Mercy dragged herself out of bed and vowed to get ready for the day. Maybe go for a little walk. She was finally used to wearing her prosthesis and after going to rehab at a local facility for a few months, she was ready to work on her own.

  It was 9:00 a.m. Sunday and she was going to face the day. Carpe diem. That thought lasted a third of a second before she was wrecked with another round of nausea.

  “I hate my life,” she said as she leaned over the toilet again.

  11:00 a.m. Try numero dos. She was back at the door feeling better this time. If she got sick, so be it. She wasn’t staying in the house all day. Mercy walked down the quiet street feeling better with each step she took, taking the fresh air in. British Columbia was beautiful and not a far cry from rural New York. The people were far nicer though. Friendly and chatty. In her town people were amicable, but not the same.

  “Hi Mercy,” Mister Thompson said waving as Mercy walked by. He was one of her neighbors.

  “Morning Mister Thompson.”

  “You look beautiful my dear.”

  “You are pretty dapper yourself.” He was a harmless old man. Mister Thompson smiled proudly and Mercy continued on her way.

  Mercy saw an old black Porsche parked in a driveway at one of the development houses. It immediately reminded her of Marc and her good mood instantly disintegrated. Marc. Two months later and she still couldn’t forget about him. She rolled her eyes at herself and picked up her pace. She needed to go out on the town with Carrie and find herself a man so she could move on, even if the last thing she wanted was someone other than Marc.

  A half hour later Mercy returned to her house. Lego, her black cat, was waiting for her at the door. She’d adopted the little black devil from a local shelter for company. She didn’t like being all alone anymore. And what a faithful little compani
on Lego had become.

  “Come on boy, let’s get you a treat.”

  Lego followed Mercy to the kitchen and she gave him a few chicken treats. Then she returned to the living room. She flipped on the TV and the commercial was for baby food. REALLY? God was really rubbing it in lately. Mercy changed the channel and settled onto the leather couch. Lego jumped into her lap. Mercy fluffed up his fur and the show Rugrats came on. She’d changed it to a kids channel…and a show about infants. Mercy shut the TV off.

  “Well Lego, I’ve had enough of that.” Feeling hungry, Mercy decided to take a trip to the grocery store. Her cupboards were empty and her stomach was angry.

  Mercy drove into town and filled the cart with fruits, veggies, and junk. A lot of junk food. Her sweet tooth was taking over. Mercy walked down the health and beauty aisle and on the right hand side pregnancy tests lined the shelf. She stopped and stared for a moment and Carrie’s words once came back to her. Morning sickness. Mercy laughed to herself, but at the same token a small part of her was curious. But there was no way. Mercy looked left, then right, then tossed a test into her cart. Why she was being so clandestine, she didn’t know.

  After paying for her spoils, Mercy returned home and took care of her food, all except for a box of donut holes and milk, which she promptly took care of sitting at the kitchen table. She’d need to walk again this night to take care of those calories.

  The pregnancy test on the counter caught her eye as she mowed on a chocolate piece of Heaven. Mercy put the donut holes and milk away and grabbed the test. She snatched up the test and went into the bathroom with it.

  Twenty minutes later Mercy was staring at the test. Shock. It wasn’t possible. NOT POSSIBLE. No way. The test had to be faulty. Mercy needed to go back to the store. Now. And so she did. She went back to the same market and bought four more tests, each a different brand. The clerk gave her quite a look when she rang her out.

  “Didn’t believe the first one, huh?” the clerk smiled.

  “I guess I’m not the only one who has done this.”

  “No.” She laughed.

  Mercy took her tests and immediately drove back home.

  One by one, each test had the same result. Pregnant. Mercy laid down on the bed and felt dizzy. Pregnant? How? The doctors told her she’d never have children. This wasn’t happening. Mercy felt sick all over again, this time not from morning sickness. She needed to calm down. Tests could be faulty. She needed to go to the doctor to make sure before she got all riled up. Calm down. Mercy gathered herself before she got too out of control. She’d call the doctor Monday and make an appointment. And then the doctor would tell her it was a faulty test and she’d be freaking out for no reason. Mercy’s pulse returned to normal as she convinced herself it wasn’t possible and she got back up.

  For the rest of the night, even though she’d tried to convince herself it was a false positive, in the back of her mind she felt something wrong with her body. Not necessarily wrong, but different.

  While at work Monday, Mercy made an appointment with a local doctor who squeezed her in. They had an afternoon opening so Mercy would take off work early.

  “Mercy, Mister Kendrick on line two.”

  Mercy picked up the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Mercy my darling, how is everything.”

  “Superb.” At work anyway.

  “We’re having a meeting at three this afternoon with InAcco. We’ll put you in on the conference call.”

  Shit.

  “Dad, can we make it for tomorrow?”

  “Everything is set for this afternoon.”

  Mercy wasn’t about to tell her father she was going to the doctor’s to get a pregnancy test.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. My leg has been bugging me lately and they squeezed me in this afternoon.”

  “I didn’t know. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll be fine, I just want to get it looked at.”

  “We’ll change the meeting for tomorrow. You call us tonight and tell us how the appointment went.”

  “I will.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  “Love you Daddy.”

  “Love you too.”

  Mercy hung up. She felt guilty for lying, but it was a necessary evil.

  The afternoon hours crept by. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. God, would three o’clock ever come? And then, slowly, painfully, it did.

  Mercy sat on a paper lined bed waiting for the doctor.

  “I know you didn’t want to believe your five over the counter pregnancy tests,” her young doctor said stepping back into the room, “but you are indeed pregnant.”

  “Whaa…but, my doctor told me I’d never have kids.”

  “Your doctor was wrong.”

  Mercy laid back on the bed.

  “Congratulations Mercy.”

  “Umm…yeah.”

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Terrified was the first emotion, but somewhere inside there also was excitement.

  “You’re about eight weeks along.”

  Mercy put her hands to her forehead and her breathing quickened.

  “I can imagine it’s a shock after being told you’d never conceive.”

  “To say the least.” Mercy stared wide eyed at a florescent light.

  “Do you have any questions for me?”

  “I’m in shock right now…I can’t think.”

  The doctor sat in a chair beside her bed.

  “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you and then we’ll go over some instructions on what you’re going to need to do and change over your pregnancy.”

  “Okay,” Mercy said monotone.

  Mercy needed someone to be at the appointment taking notes because half of what the doctor said she didn’t hear.

  For the rest of the day Mercy was on autopilot. At 7:00 p.m. her phone rang. Cora.

  “Hi Mom.”

  “How’s your leg honey?”

  “It’s going to be okay. I, uh, just over did it.” How would she ever break this to her parents? They would be devastated. They believed in traditional marriage and a traditional family. Not a child out of wedlock. Add to the equation that it was Marc’s child and they’d both be dead of a heart attack.

  “You need to be careful.”

  “I know. I’m really tired though Mom, could I catch up with you tomorrow night?”

  “Sure. You take care and take it easy.”

  “I will.”

  Mercy hung up the phone and Lego rubbed up against her leg.

  “Come here,” she called him. Lego jumped in her lap. “What am I go to do boy? What the hell am I going to do?”

  SECOND CHANCES

  Marc

  Four months later.

  Marc sat in handcuffs leaned against the tire of a police cruiser. Again. The police, which were all supposed to be accounted for by scouts, obviously were not. Five cruisers had surrounded him and another racer, Link, before they could get away. Another arrest to add to the sheet. At least Marc had won. He could use his winnings to have Ace bail him out. Marc could kiss his license goodbye again.

  “Foster, get up.” An officer pulled painfully on Marc’s cuffs.

  “I’m up, Jesus.”

  He was tossed into the back of a cruiser and taken to the local county jail. Hector came and bailed him out. He would do some jail time for this incident. And his car was impounded. Shit.

  It was dawn when Hector parked on the road by his house. Marc saw a familiar Jeep in the driveway.

  “What the hell?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s, ah, it’s fine.” Marc stepped of Hector’s car and walked toward the door where a beautiful woman was sitting on his doorstep, her arms curled around her legs.

  “Mercy?” he said shocked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi to you too,” she said. He could immediately tell something was wrong.

  “Are you alright?”

 
“That depends on your definition of alright.”

  She looked angelic. Almost glowing. He wanted to take her in his arms and carry her into his house, but stopped his caveman instincts.

  “Can we talk?” she asked.

  “Ah, sure.” Marc unlocked the door and walked inside. She followed behind him. When Marc turned to face her he immediately noticed what had been concealed while she was sitting.

  “Wow,” he said and brought his hands to the side of his head. “I thought—you said—” The ability to make sentences evaded him at the sight of her bump.

  “My doctor was obviously wrong.” Mercy put her hand on her stomach.

  “But you can’t—you can’t have kids.”

  “That’s what they told me.”

  “But you’re pregnant.” Marc was in shock.

  “Six months pregnant.”

  Marc turned around, paced a few steps, and then returned to her.

  “Is it mine?”

  “Yes, he’s yours. You’re the only one I’ve been with.”

  He’s. It was a boy. Marc felt happiness then panic set in. He couldn’t be a father. Not with what he was.

  “Mercy…I…”

  “I know this isn’t what you bargained for. And I told you I couldn’t have children. But I am pregnant and he is yours. Your child Marc.”

  “I can’t be a father. No child deserves me as a father.”

  Mercy sat down on his couch and wiped her eyes. Marc hated to see her cry. He wanted to scoop her up and hold her tight, but held back.

  “With your lifestyle I agree.”

  “I will support him,” Marc said and sat down.

  “I don’t want your drug money, Marc. I can support both of us just fine.”

  That comment stung.

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “I’m giving you the chance to be the man I know you are. To be a father to our child, to live an honest life.” Mercy passed him an envelope.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a ticket to British Columbia. I’m moving there permanently. My parents are moving as well.”