“You remember when we used to talk about this?” she asked. “And we agreed that a kid was no reason to stay together, if the relationship wasn’t working?”
I tried to find enough saliva to swallow. My mouth was still dry.
“But those were hypothetical discussions,” I replied. “Now that you’re actually carrying our child…”
She slipped one hand free and placed it gently on my lips. Shook her head.
“I’m carrying my child.”
The flames in her eyes had faded. But I would have given anything to have them back, and to have her knife in her hand again, if it could cut those last four words from my memory.
“You know that I never had any real parents. This baby will have one. One parent, who will always be there, no matter what, in the good times and the bad. Can you make the same commitment?”
How could she ask that? This was new to both of us. But I was sure that, given time…
“No, I didn’t think so.”
She slipped her other hand out of mine, and took her fingers from my lips.
“You’ll have a chance to see the baby, Moondog. When the time is right. But you’ll have to earn that privilege. Until then, take care of yourself. I need to get out, go somewhere, get away from all of this. Don’t try to find me.”
She leaned forward and kissed me. Long and hard. Her arms wrapped around me. Her tears wet my face. At least, I’m pretty sure they were hers.
She gave me another searching look, wiping her eyes before the door closed behind her with a muffled click.
Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick. Available from www.amazon.com/author/burning
Till next time. Cheers.
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