A Del Piero Series: The man behind the mask

Clarke’s point of view I sat down on a chair in my room, facing the mirror, as I gently brushed my long brown hair, when I heard a gentle knock on my door. “Come in,” I called out gently. The door creaked open, and my mom walked inside, but for some reason, I could not see her clearly; my vision of her was kind of blurry. I walked over to hug her, “Hey Mom.” “Hello sweetie,” she said as she hugged me back. “Here, let me help you with that.” She said as she took the brush from me and I sat back on the chair while she stood behind me brushing my hair. With her gentle touch, she made everything seem perfect. She brushed down my hair gently as she ran her palm along my strands and for a moment, for a very short moment, all was well with the world. “I miss you mom,” I whispered to her. “What do you mean pookie, I’m right here with you.” Pookie. She always called me pookie. I missed hearing her call me pookie and everything else she used to call me. “Yes, but not … She faced me and pressed her index finger vertically against my lips, “Shhhhhh.” She whispered as she walked back behind me, “Everything is perfect just the way it is now pookie.” A little tear ran down my cheeks. “Mom, I wish you were here with me,” I said with a little hint of tears in my voice. She smiled and looked at me, “I’m always with you pookie.” Another tear ran down my cheeks, “I love you mom.” “I love you …” A sudden jolt woke me up. I let out a deep sigh, I was dreaming again. I looked at the wall clock ,it was 7 am on the dot. I sighed again and turned sideways to the other side of the bed. I always had this dream. Although my mom was long gone, I always had a dream about her. I always saw her brushing my hair, we always had conversations together. I missed her so much. I lost both my parents a long time ago. I was twenty then, now I’m twenty-eight, and I still dream about her. I swung both my legs on the floor to stand up. “Ugh, okay, hold up.” I felt a sharp headache, I had to sit back. “Remind me to take painkillers anytime I work late.” I muttered to myself. “All that stress, I seriously need a vacation.” I said to myself as I got up again. “Maybe to the Bahamas.” This time the headache was accompanied by intense dizziness. As I walked towards the bathroom, I felt a sudden urge to puke. I was feeling that way the whole of the week, and I was starting to wonder what was wrong with me. I stepped into the bathroom and picked up my toothbrush and toothpaste. I had started to brush my teeth when the urge came again, this time stronger than before. I tried to ignore it but I couldn’t. It came again, and it came harder than it did before. I bent my neck head first into the sink and with a guttural cry began a series of loud retching sounds. My body was heaving violently. I continued retching and with a forceful expulsion, a spray of vomit shot out of my mouth. I let out another forceful spray of vomit followed by a sharp spitting sound. I opened the faucet and took a handful of water into my mouth. I gargled and gurgled the water around my mouth and spat it out. I took another handful of water and splashed it over my face and let out a deep breath as I stared at myself in the mirror. Oh! It suddenly occurred to me. I ran out of the bathroom and picked up my phone from the bed where I had left it. I swiped up and my eyes widened. “Today’s the twenty-fifth.” I muttered to myself. My eyes widened in terror as I dropped my phone back on my bed. I ran across to my drawer and pulled out a test strip and went back into the bathroom. “Lord Jesus, please let it be negative.” I prayed as I pulled down my pajamas and sat on the toilet seat. “I promise I’ll be a good girl, I promise.” I looked up at the ceiling as I cried out. I took a sample of my urine and placed it on the test strip. I closed my eyes and whispered to myself, “I promise to be a good girl if this turns out to be negative.” I opened her eyes slowly to the shock of my life. I looked down at the test strip. I stared at the test strip in horror as my heart beat increased, and my breath became shallow. My eyes became dizzy for a minute and my hands started to shake. I let out a deep breath as I stood up from the toilet seat and pulled my pajamas back up. I felt dizzy again and my hands continued to shake. How did I allow this to happen? How did I get here? I thought to myself as I shuddered and stood by the window. At that moment, the events of the past few weeks sped past my eyes and I felt a chill in my chest. I partied hard these past few weeks, but there was only one person I had s*x with, only one person I had any connection with, and I knew just who it was. It’s him. It has to be him. I mean who else? Who would have s*x with the most eligible billionaire bachelor and not have any memory of it? I exhaled. I had s*x on the first night and now my passions, my desires have gotten me into trouble. This is a terrible mistake. This is not supposed to be happening. This was supposed to be a one-night stand kind of thing. “How did I get here?” I murmured to myself. “This was only meant to be a one-night stand, this is not supposed to be happening.” I let my gaze settle on the people outside and the hustle and bustle of the neighborhood. I was deep in thought when I heard my room door swing open with a mild force. “Hey girl,” Camille greeted as she strolled in with her usual smile. The smile and carefree attitude that made me love her and always want to be around her. “What's up?” She asked me as she landed on my bed. I was dumbfounded, too shocked at the recent development to even reply. My mouth moved in a futile attempt to form an answer but nothing came out save for air. She noticed my demeanor and walked up to me. “Hey, are you okay?” She asked as he held my shoulders. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?” I let out deep shuddering breaths. “I … I’m…” I stammered. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “I’m pregnant Camile.” For a short minute, my world stopped. Saying it out loud made it more real than I wanted it to be. If only I could turn back the hands of time, I would stay away from every Tom, d**k and Harry that approached me. I took a look at Camile and I could see the look on her face, it was sheer horror and, at that instant, I knew what she was thinking. Who is the father? And like the predictable girl that I know, she asked with her voice bold and audible enough for me to hear her clearly, “Clarke,” she dragged, “Who is the father?” That is actually a great question, a very good and important question, but I was in extreme shock that I could not bring myself to say anything. I was worried about a million things right now and the sheer look of horror mixed with surprise splashed all over Camille’s face was not one of them. It has to be him. I mean he’s the only one I’ve had s*x with in a long time. I thought to myself over and over again, unwilling to let Camille hear the uncertainty in my voice. I had a lot of fun these past few weeks. I visited one club after the other and I always left totally drunk. Camille was the one who always took me home and made sure I had a proper bath, after all, we live together. There was no way she was going to leave me there. “Clarke.” I heard Camile again. “Yes?” My voice was barely audible. The weight of the pregnancy was starting to dawn on me. How am I ever going to survive as a pregnant single mother? How am I going to pay the bills all by myself with that job that can barely take care of my needs? My job could hardly make ends meet as it is. “Who is the father of the child?” she asked again. I looked at her, my eyes heavy and my mouth glued shut. The expression on her face moved from horror to shock to surprise. “Wait!” She looked down at my stomach and back at me. “Don’t tell me …” She guessed who the father was and she guessed right. My voice was low and shaky, “It’s his.”