Chapter 15
1148 Words
Do broken hearts ever mend? Where do broken hearts go?
Naomi sat on her bed, staring at an artwork, a two by two in a sized clear painting of dark ink of a mother carrying a child on her back, having tied her closely with a piece of cloth, while selling to passersby, the sun’s ray fell directly on the mother, casting her shadows backwards to cover the baby.
She had never paid close attention to the painting over the years until today when everything hit her at once, she felt a deep connection with the artwork, causing goosebumps to reel over her body at the thought of the struggles of motherhood which kept calling and how life will look like without any support, nor the mall.
She sat with her palms supporting her head, beneath her jaw, and her elbow rooted to her thigh, lost in her dilemma of thoughts, questioning why she felt that way with heavy burdens that seemed chronic, the burden of a divided home, the uncertainty of how to raise her child for another 7 and a half years without her father. Worst, Damian, who became a pain in the ass, seeking revenge like the air he breathes. Stalking her everywhere. Gosh. Everything sucks.
Buzz….
A message popped up on her screen accompanying the buzz on her phone, distracting her from her pool of depression
Wells Fargo:
Account: 103xxxxxxxx67
Amount: $3,000
Description: Piston Bank/TRF/ from Clara Jones
Date: 06-07-2025
Current Balance: $3,800
Hot tears brushed through her cheeks. A sudden consecutive buzz stole her attention from the emotional outburst happening within.
Ringing….. Clara
She quickly picked up her phone again and took up the call unsure of what to say to Clara.
“Hey, Pumpkin ass...” she teased. “I considered that you come over to New Jersey and take a job here in my spa.” She paused on hearing whimpers over the call. “Hello… are you still crying? Come off it girl. You’ll be fine in New Jersey .”
Making efforts to console her. “Words fail me. I don’t know how best to show how grateful I am for this kind gesture.” She sipped in her catarrh that came drooling from her nostrils. “Thank you so so much, Clara; thank you for giving a helping hand in this very trying moment.”
“Babe, when I you coming.” She cut in not knowing exactly how to react to Naomi’s vote of thanks. She had already gotten more than enough of that when they hopped on a call the previous night.
“It’s Thursday, I’d like to see my husband, sorry, ex-husband before I take a leave on Friday,”
she explained.
“Okay, baby girl. I’ll be expecting. Please send a call tomorrow evening so I don’t get carried away with work over here.” Clara instructed. “Alright, Clay.” As she was fond of her. She drops the call, and her mood lightens.
****
“Where are you going this early Friday morning? Have you had an appointment with the doctor? And where the hell did you get the money when I haven't had a balanced diet in the past few days?” Mrs Laurent blew up at Naomi from a distance upon seeing her neatly fully dressed, coming from the living room and heading to the balcony where she was seated.
“Mom, I… I” “C’mon, spill the lie like your dad taught you. One more thing, be professional too, so you don't flare up.”
“Momma, it’s nothing,” She forced a scripted smile, disarming her mother of any suspicion. Buying time enough to cook up a lie. Now, she was sure that her mother would go to war if she mentioned the “Ethan” word.
“Game’s over, Momma”. Naomi said in a light-hearted voice to loosen the tense air. “I want to go see Damian. He called the previous night. And we’re making plans. Here’s the deal breaker, if you know our plans, you’ll kill the “surprise” magic.” she winked at the end of her statement.
She could see the wrinkles on her mother’s facelift. And her cheeks turn pink. A sheepish smile courted the edges of her mouth. She just did not want to show how happy a woman she was now that her daughter had come to her senses.
“Oh. My darling, you should be on your way. Get going. You know Damian is a very busy guy. Your hair, let me help you brush it a while before you go.”
“No, no no.. momma. It’s fine that way. Time is far spent; I should get going, Mom. Bye”
“Bye, My Baby.” At one point, her heart shredded into pieces. What if she dies during the abortion process? Anyway, nothing will happen. Damian has the best medical team.
Naomi stepped out and boarded a cab.
****
“Hi. Ethan.”
“How’s our baby?” Ethan cut in before she could land.
“Ethan, really?” Arching one side of her brow in disapproval of Ethan’s action.
“How are you, Naomi?” Ethan asked, the “pretending-to-care” signs were painted over his looks.
“Anyway. I always expect you to choose one thing or the other over my well-being. Well, that’s not why I am here.”
“Naomi, are you aware of the gravity of nemesis finely attached to your actions? I won’t start with that. I heard about the mall demolition, your mother’s house will be sold off. And that too.”
“Ethan! You're in jail and you access literally news spiralling around me? How’s that? Because your brother doesn't come around anymore. Neither can I reach him on calls.”
“Laugh out loud... you should be familiar with these things, my dear ex-wife. I run the city. I have premium access to every information that interests me at my beck and call.”
“You brag too much for a man.” Her keen admiration for this part of Ethan was core. Her gaze met his lips, and her cunt tingled inside.
“And you're too young to cast another man’s responsibility on another man.”
“What do you mean, Ethan? Make me understand.”
“You have wrecked me to stupor, Naomi. Reduced me to nothingness, and now, you brought disgrace upon me, to crown it all.”
“What are you talking about Eth….” “Shut the f*CK up, b*tch.” Ethan lashed out at Naomi.
“You can’t afford the newspapers. I know better now. You're just nothing without me. You should have known better not to bite certain fingers.”
“The news has made headlines that; that b*tch junior in your womb is not mine!!!”
- Writer
