WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT WHEN CARMA'S INVOLVED?

VEINTICINCO

Weeks went by. My routine changed dramatically. The first thing I did upon waking every morning was look at the photos of my daughter and announce to no one that I loved her. I did the same thing before bed. Screaming it from the rooftops is my ultimate goal. If it weren't for Carma, I could do just that. I’d love nothing more than to rub it in that btch’s face.

Harmoney doesn’t know it, but I sneak peeks at her through my peephole, or I sit where she can’t see me and watch her leave for work and return. I thought she was eye-catching before. Her body is subtlety changing as our daughter grows in her womb. For now, her suits hide the baby bump. Did anyone at work notice? If they have, the rumor mill must be working overtime. I cannot believe she caught me with hookers. There was a need to feel free from judgment. What was I thinking to begin with? If reporters, or God forbid, my parents found out how much I paid to get my rocks off, it would be more embarrassing to them than marrying Carma in Vegas. Mmm. Maybe not. It would kill Mom and I do not want to live with that on my conscience for the rest of my life.

Allow me to make one thing abundantly clear. Harmoney is way off in her assumption that I forgot about her. I wanted to forget who I am. The name, the stature, my life, my fck ups. I’m still nursing the bruise on my thigh and rib cage from falling down the stairs while chasing after Harmoney. Is there a better reminder to prove I fck up no matter what? Honestly, entering my place to witness first-hand how I exhibit my destructive behavior... It is the best thing anyone did. For the first time in my life, I felt embarrassed. Drinking to excess, taking home random women. I’d never done that. In the good ole days, I dated women before thinking about intimacy. If there was no spark, there was no fire. You know, I dated more than one woman at a time to ensure I got punani on the daily. It’s what college boys do.

Harmoney served me with a wake-up call for being a fcking ahole towards her. In my altered mental status, she acted irrationally. I believe the word I used was jealous. Revealing our child was a girl forced me to recount the games I played. The lines I used. Most of all, the hearts I probably shattered. My daughter was going to experience it all and then some from guys like me. That is when I hated who I am. I don’t know if I changed or if I can. Am I ready to be a father? Can anyone be ready to become responsible for a tiny copy of themselves? Dad, Mom, my brothers, Allie, and now Harmoney are disappointed in me. I was ruining my great life. For what?

Two women are carrying my offspring. Until there is a negative DNA test, Carma’s baby is mine. The amount of immaturity within me has caused me to miss out on the experiences dads in the past weren't allowed to be involved with. Why did I do this to Harmoney and me? I lack the decoding skills needed to convince my brain that Harmoney is nothing like Carma. She’s not out to get me or ruin me. I’m doing a good job of that on my own. Harmoney sweetly suggested naming our daughter after me. My brain shouted, “it was to hurt me”. I know that is not close to the truth. I died inside when Harmoney said, “The fact that you think I'm like her proves why we will never work. Or anyone, for that matter.” She's right. How could we be a couple if I compared them? How would it work with anyone else if I continued? One thing confounds me. How did Harmoney know my middle name? I never use it and thought about dropping it.

Here’s to another night of lying in bed unable to sleep. Instead of counting sheep, I count my fck ups and then try to figure out a way to fix them. If only a one-sized answer to the individual problems existed. It’s lazy thinking but would help tremendously. In the pitch darkness, my phone buzzed on the nightstand and lit up the room. Harmoney’s name in bold capital letters appeared on the screen. We hadn’t spoken or seen each other since that night. Yes, I debated answering. That’s my defiant immaturity for ya. The vibration ceased, minutes ticked by, and regret knotted my stomach. Fck. What if she needed me? Reaching for the phone, she called back.

“Harmoney?” So much noise in the background made it hard to hear if she said anything. Then I heard sobbing. “Harmoney, is something wrong?”

“She's gone. I'm sorry.” The call ended abruptly after that.

I tried calling her back. She must’ve shut her phone off because I was instantly diverted to her voicemail. I didn’t understand what she said or what she meant. Whatever she meant sent me into panic mode. I threw on ratty clothes, found a hat, and left to locate her. Mass General is the closest hospital to us. Several nurses gave me a hard time because I wasn’t family. Not knowing what was wrong made it all the more difficult for me. Finally, the head nurse came out to speak with me. I explained as quickly as possible what I knew. All that bullsh*t, to find out she wasn't there. I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off to find her because she didn’t tell me where she was. But the possibility was she didn’t want to.

Brigham and Womens is the next logical option. If something happened to the baby, there’s nothing I could do. Since her call, something could’ve happened to Harmoney as well. The vessel is more important than the passenger. As awful as that sounds, I’d rather have Harmoney and no child than to have a child with no mother. I didn’t play games at this hospital. I told them my name was Ryan Sanchez and my wife called about our unborn baby. Fifty questions later, I told them we were separated, but working things out.

At the late hour and for security purposes, I had an escort to her room. Right before entering, a doctor stopped me. More questions were asked before the doctor apologized for my loss and said nothing could be done. She miscarried. Harmoney would need to stay for observation and in the morning an examination would be done to see if any remaining pregnancy tissue is present. If there is, the doctor recommended waiting to see if the tissue expelled itself. If it didn’t, medication is another option. If that didn’t work, a D&C would need to be done. Call me stupid because I understood none of that.

Standing outside her room, looking through the window shattered me in a way I never thought possible. My heart ached from wondering if her miscarriage was the ramification of my stupidity. Grabbing the knob, her voice echoed in my mind about knocking first. I tapped lightly on the window. The room was big. Harmoney looked so small, curled up on the bed in the middle of the room. I had no clue what to say to make something this devastating better. I saw her tear-stained face when she turned to look at her visitor. She said nothing and turned back over to bury her face in the pillow. Grabbing the chair by the door, I sat in front of her. No words can take her pain away.

Seeking a response, I placed my hand over hers. Her beautiful eyes remained closed as if she had done something wrong and was unable to face me. “Harmoney. Tell me, did I do this?”

“It's called cervical insufficiency. A structural defect in me.”

Kissing her hand, tears of my own fell. This is my fault. I’m fcking selfish. It hurt knowing she couldn’t trust me enough to confide in me that she’d been spotting on and off. While I was staring at the ceiling in my bed, she woke up in a pool of blood. My callousness towards her caused her to want to deal with this on her own. Am I at fault for wanting to know why? How could she be worried about me suffering when her body and mind were being taxed to the max? Why did she get to make that choice for me? She claimed everything was to protect me. This was not the time or the place to be angry. Harmoney is always ten steps ahead when it comes to handling her life. She’s going to call Dad and tell him she needs to work from home and maybe request my help until she’s back on her feet. Work is the least important thing.

“Work will keep the eventual depression from setting in.” Hopefully. “You should go home before someone recognizes you.”

I needed, no, I wanted to be there with her. She was adamant there was nothing I could do then and nothing I could do now. The hospital had my confidence. She was in good hands. Reluctantly, I left and sat in my rental with my head on the steering wheel. A wave of anger washed over me, and I began beating on it. Why did it have to be Harmoney? Why not my c*nt of a wife? That btch is living in my house with my ex-best bud, living off the money I work hard to earn. The wicked always win one way or another. I should know, I was one until I had the displeasure of becoming involved with Carma. All of this is my karma for being the biggest d**k to walk this planet. I drove around for hours, planning my next moves to finalize my divorce. Losing our daughter made me realize one thing. I am in love with Harmoney. It may be an unrequited love, but I plan to change that. Parked outside my parents' abode, I watched Dad leave for work in his Towncar.

Mom seemed to be enjoying breakfast at the kitchen table when I walked in. “Would you look at what the cat dragged in?”

“Morning, mom.”

She never had company before breakfast. But I needed to be around someone that would let me wallow in my pain. Moms are great for that. More so if you’re a girl. They always know what to say or do. Most of the time, they give the best advice. That said, she could see there was something gnawing at me. Wanting out. Her mind went to my pitiful excuse of a wife. Carma’s been quiet and that scares me.

I sat across from her and took her hands in mine. “Mom, the woman carrying my daughter.... she......uh...”

“I'm getting a granddaughter. Oh, I can't wait to meet her.” Plunge that knife in deeper.

“No one is going to get the chance to meet her. She died this morning.”

“Alixxander. Sweetheart, you both must be devastated.”

Mom pushed her chair out and held her arms open wide. I dropped to the floor and cried in her lap as she rubbed my back and stroked my hair. The last time I did this, I was seven and got into a fist fight with Travis. He kicked my ass. Mom was there to comfort me and told me to punch him in the nuts next time. Mom is all about winning at any cost. I’m surprised she didn’t become a lawyer. We moved to the couch, and I laid my head on her lap. The entire day was spent there telling her all about Harmoney. She barely said a word as I went on and on.

“I raised you better than that, Alixxander Ryan. How could you treat a woman you claim to love like that?” I never said those exact words. Again, moms know.

“How do I make it right?”

If only being there for Harmoney was as easy as Mom speaking the words, I’d be there in a heartbeat. It doesn’t take a genius to know Harmoney is going to say she doesn’t need or want me there for her in an emotional way. Even Mom could tell Harmoney is a strong woman who takes everything in stride and never complains. I can’t comprehend how she lost the human growing inside her and her concern was work and someone recognizing me. Mom pointed out that her reaction proved she cared but was too stubborn to admit it.

“It's nice of you to show your ugly mug around here.” Great greeting from Dad.

“Román, you stop that right this instant. He comes to see me every couple of days. Now I know why he leaves before you return home.”

“Give me a break, Betty. He's too busy fcking his life up to be a part of this family.”

Kissing Mom on the cheek, I whispered, “I love you.”

“Alixx.”

“Yes, Father?” He despises being called father.

“Miss Sanchez called. She suffered a medical emergency.” Mom's eyes shot in my direction. “Still, she's willing to work from home and has requested you to be her errand boy. Anything she needs. I do not care if she wants sushi from Japan, you get it for her. Fck this up and you won't have a job. Understood.”

“Yes, Father.” He gave me the knock it off look before walking away.

Mom mouthed, “It's Miss Sanchez?”

That smile only Harmoney brought out of me slyly slid across my face. Mom winked. My secret is safe with her. She gave me strict orders to win Harmoney back. Mom knows best after all.