at me pathetically as I balled myself into fetal position and sobbed quietly into my knees. “You fucking dyke!” he yelled as he threw a crumpled up sheet of paper at me. “Your lesbian lover left you a little note before she bounced. And she left you some money too, you fucking prostitute!” He threw the crumpled bills at me and stormed out.
I laid there rocking my bruised body. When I heard the front door slam, I leaned over and opened the wadded paper.
India,
You were amazing. I can’t express how exquisitely you made me feel. I hope we can do this again. Next time, it must be just me and you. Give me a call mi bella. 646-555-4608.
Besos,
Anais
P.S. I’m leaving this money because it’s yours. You gave it to me at the club but that money was given to you by your admirers. Buy yourself something nice and be sure to wear it for me on our next encounter. *wink wink*
I counted the money and was amazed to find almost six hundred dollars. I recalled giving Anais the money and the look of hesitation on her face. I giggled and was quickly brought back to my excruciating reality by the sharp pain in my abdomen. I sobbed quietly, cradling myself, wondering what the fuck it was going to take to break the fuck out of this abusive relationship.
7
I lay on the hospital bed stunned. The nurse’s words echoed in my ear.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this but you’ve had a miscarriage, Ms. Maldonado.”
Tears streamed down my face like rivers. “I was pregnant?” I asked in disbelief. “What do you mean?”
“Yes, you were about six weeks pregnant,” the nurse replied sympathetically. “The good news is that we think you’ve discharged the entire fetus so we won’t have to scrape your uterus.”
I stared at her aghast. “I can’t believe this shit!” I rubbed my belly and winced in pain. I was still badly bruised from the golpeada Fabian had inflicted upon me two days before.
The nurse walked to the door and closed it. She pulled up a chair alongside my bed and sat down with a look of concern. “I think those black and blues on your torso are what caused the miscarriage. You want to tell me what happened?” she asked, hopeful I would open up.
I tried to talk but choked up and began to sob uncontrollably. I remembered looking at my nude reflection in the mirror the night before. Ugly, green, black and blue contusions dotted my back and abdomen. I collapsed into the nurses’ arms, heaving in dismay as I recalled the night of the beat down. I couldn’t believe this had happened. It was surreal. Fabian had put his hands on me in the past but never so violently. The million dollar question was would he have been so sadistic had he known I was pregnant with his child. Despite my misery, I felt a sense of relief. I couldn’t have a baby, not now, not with Fabian. My conviction surprised me.
I looked at the nurse. “Thank you but that’s my past now. I’d rather not get into it.” I wiped my nose with the bed sheet and grimaced at the overpowering smell of hospital, a mixture of disinfectant and medicine. “Thank you. I’m sorry.” I gave the nurse my back and balled into fetal position.
“Well, if you want to talk, my name is Nurse Richards. You can call me Aimee. There’s also a social worker on duty today. Her name is Ms. Lopez. Just buzz the call button and someone will come to help you. You can go whenever you like, no rush. Your clothes are in the bag at the foot of the bed. The doctor’s specifications about post-ER care are on the table.” The nurse hesitated. “I really wish you’d talk to someone about your injuries… Take care.”
In the reflection of the glass on the closet door, I watched Nurse Richards look back at my shaking form. She shook her head disconcertedly and closed the door behind her.
I lay in the bed for a while mulling over the events of the past few days. I still couldn’t believe that I had been pregnant. Tears rolled onto the bedspread as I thought about my deceased baby. I wondered if I would have actually gone through with the pregnancy had I not miscarried. Thoughts of my baby made me convulse with sadness. Maybe I should talk to somebody. Maybe talking to a counselor will help ease this pain, I thought.
The ring of my cell phone snatched me out of my thoughts. I knew it was Fabian by the ring tone - Changes by Mary J. Blige. He’d left five messages since I’d left his apartment without leaving so much as a goodbye note. I’d emptied my drawers and closet, taking even my razor, toothbrush and loofah. “Fuck that, I’m taking this shit,” I’d thought contemplating the loofah. “I paid $15 for this!”
By the time I’d arrived at my dorm, he’d called three times but left only one message. He was crying, begging for forgiveness, promising that he’d never lay his hands on me again, pleading for my return.
“You took all your shit, ma. What’s wrong with you? You’re wiling! It’s not that serious, mamita! We can work this out!”
He kept calling at least once an hour. With each message he became increasingly irate. The last one was the worst.
You fucking sucia. You think you can get away from me?! This is the motherfucking infamous Fabian you dealin’ with here, bitch! You’ll never get away from me. I told you, you fucking cuero, you’re mine forever, bitch! I will hunt you down like the fucking snake that you are! I will hunt you down and slice you to pieces! You hear me you fucking crazy bitch! Oh, you think you slick, right? Well, I’ma show you who’s the slick one. I filmed you with your lesbian lover, máldita maricona! That’s right. I fucking filmed you! I’ma show that shit to the whole fuckin’ hood. Charge for tickets and shit. Make copies and sell that shit!”
Then he broke down and pleaded for my return.
“Ma, please don’t leave me. Please! I need you! I’m bugging! I would neva hurt you baby! Neva!”
I then heard muffled sniffing and knew immediately that he was doing coke. “Never get high on your own supply,” I sang shaking my head then the reality set in. “He filmed us! That son of a bitch filmed us! I can’t believe his trifling ass!”
My phone rang indicating that I had a new message. I hesitated but listened to it in spite of myself.
¡Ay Dios! Where are you, mamita? I called your dorm and your suitemate said you were taken away by ambulance. Where are you, ma? My God, I pray you’re okay. The stupid bitch couldn’t even tell me what hospital they took you to. I’m gonna go to St. Luke’s since it’s the closest one to Columbia. If you’re there, wait for me. I’m on my way. Your papí is on his way. Wait for me ma, wait for me.
My entire body tensed fearfully. He’s on his way?! I thought dumbstruck. I jumped out of the bed and immediately regretted my impulsiveness as piercing pain shot through my crotch, up my abdomen and down my legs. I almost keeled over but managed to keep steady by holding on to the bedrail for support. I carefully dressed myself. I opened the door, looked up and down the corridor and walked out as fast as I could, avoiding the waiting room area altogether. I didn’t stop until I was in the safety of my dorm room, knowing that the guards would never permit anyone entrance unless they received verbal permission. I collapsed onto my bed, privates throbbing, heart beating hard against my breast, sweat causing my shirt to stick to my body. I’d eluded him … at least for now.
8
I laid on the futon of my dorm room reminiscing about the last five years of my life. I remembered the day I hooked up with Fabian like it was yesterday.
I’d known Fabian for years. He hung out on the corner of the block where my Grandmother lived. I would walk by the group of guys and giggled at their comments on what a cute girl I was and a beautiful woman I was sure to become. But Fabian always