Hell and a Hard Place Page 2

  “Not tonight, FC. I want to feel you. Really feel you.”

  Damn it. “You haven’t missed a single day of birth control?” I ask.

  “No!” she exclaims. Outrage colors her face that I would even ask. “I do not want a baby, FC.”

  “That’s the point of me also wearing a condom, babe.”

  She rolls her eyes, grabs my cock, and situates herself above me. “I’ll take that day after pill tomorrow as precaution,” she promises me.

  I should know by now that she can’t be trusted, but that thought doesn’t hit me for a couple of weeks.

  It’s been a week since I’ve heard from FC. It always worries me when I don’t hear from him for a few days. I’m certain my worries are legitimate, too, and not just a no big deal branch off my crazy tree, which has roots formed by my generalized anxiety disorder. FC hasn’t been the FC I’ve known for over a decade since he met this latest girlfriend.

  He’s different, and different in a way that makes me uneasy and worry about him. He doesn’t talk about her much at all. I was surprised he even mentioned he was taking her to meet his family. That was the first time he’s talked about her in a couple of months. Although I’m ashamed to admit it, it makes me a little sad and upset whenever FC has told me he has a girlfriend. If he’s happy, then I truly am happy for him. But I’m sad for myself.

  When I was younger, it was easy to picture FC and me together. That one day we’d meet and make our own happily ever after. I could picture every romantic detail of how it would happen. I often fantasized about it, dreaming up various scenarios. As I got older and the day of us meeting never came, the daydreaming lessened dramatically as dreaded reality sank in, but I never could shake those feelings for FC.

  My heart swears he’s my soulmate while my head reminds me we haven’t ever met and if he really wanted to meet me, we would have by now. My head thinks I’m still that silly girl in middle school finding a guy who seemed so perfect, but refuses to see the light it keeps blinding me with. My heart doesn’t see anything but a soulmate when it sees FC.

  Do you know what that does to a woman? Some days, I feel guilty for even talking to him when one, or both, of us are in a relationship because our conversations sometimes feel intimate and I obviously have some feelings for him, real and true or not. Not to mention, I feel clingy and needy with how often we talk and I’m desperate to talk to him when days go by and I don’t hear from him. That part is particularly bad when my anxiety and depression are giving me a run for my money.

  My phone rings with a video call from FC while I’m on my lunch break and I smile. My nerves heighten and my heart gallops with happiness. There my heart goes; running off with crazy ideas of a supposed soulmate while my head screams, reminding me of a boyfriend. I answer the call, keeping my smile even though FC looks like he hasn’t slept in two days.

  “Hey! I was starting to worry about you.”

  “That’s because you have an anxiety disorder and I’ve been a sucky friend.” He gives me a smile I hope is genuine. FC is the only person who can tease me about my mental health issues and not upset me. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, not for the teasing, for being a sucky friend. “If it makes you feel better, I have seriously missed you. How have you been doing?”

  “Good. A little up and down up here,” I point to my head. “What about you? You didn’t tell me how your family liked Lila.”

  FC shrugs and I frown when I see him lift a cigarette to his mouth.

  “You’re smoking again?” I ask with disappointment, though it’s obvious. “You know it’s unhealthy.” When he first picked up the habit, I was able to eventually nag him enough until he quit when he was twenty.

  “It’s either this or pot, and this is legal,” FC replies, completely serious. As if I wasn’t worried enough. “I need…whatever this does for me, Idaline,” he adds on quietly. After another long drag, he says, “Everyone loved her but Nana. She said Lila brags too much and that basically she doesn’t have much to brag about until she lives to be eighty like her.”

  I laugh. “I think I’d like your nana.”

  FC smiles. “She’d like you better than she likes Lila. Your boyfriend treating you like he should? You think you’ll keep him around?”

  I tend to go through boyfriends fairly quickly. Most don’t last longer than six months and it’s all FC’s fault. We haven’t met yet, but I’m sure when we do, it’ll be fireworks and love at first sight. Hell, I’m already in love with him as much as I can be. What boyfriend can live up to the man FC is to me? To who I’ve built him up to be in my mind, which may not be who he really is in person? All I know is no one else can mess with my emotions and get me in a tizzy like FC can and that apparently means something to me.

  “At least for a while longer,” I answer. “He’s a little bit of the jealous type and I haven’t decided if it’s a good thing and the normal healthy amount or not.”

  FC sits up in his car and his face moves closer to his phone. His voice is serious, but his hands have begun to shake a bit because the screen moves. “What do you mean he’s the jealous type and you don’t know if it’s good or not? What has he done, Idaline?”

  I glance around the courtyard, which is full and bustling since it’s a warm summer day. “I don’t think this is where we should talk about something that personal,” I say as I spot a co-worker.

  “Idaline, tell me right now,” he demands in a low deadly tone that should make me shiver in fear and not delight.

  “Okay,” I relent. “So, I told him about you, right?” FC’s eyes widen as his eyebrows shoot up. “I always tell them because I talk to you so much.” Well, I did. “And he wasn’t happy, spouting off how his girlfriend wasn’t going to have a guy friend and how you have bad intentions and other nonsense. You’re like my dirty little secret now. You’re in my phone as Fiona, just in case.” FC does not look happy, but I continue with, “And we went to a bar after work last week and when the bartender flirted with me, he practically threatened the guy.”

  FC’s phone steadily shakes. “Leave him, Idaline. If you don’t do anything else I ever tell you, leave him. That’s not healthy. Don’t get in that situation where it gets worse,” he nearly pleads. “I don’t want that for you.” He shakes his head. “You’re the last person in this entire world who should go through something like that and I can’t stand the thought of it. Get out of it while you can, okay? You promise me you’ll break up with him.”

  Concerned more than ever, I nod. “I will. I promise.”

  “Shit, I need to smoke again.” He starts rummaging around.

  “No, you don’t,” I protest. “How many times do I have to tell you that we don’t find men who smoke attractive?”

  FC smirks as he lights up once more. “By we, you mean you.”

  I roll my eyes. He may be right, but I don’t have to verbally confirm it. When the health risks don’t work, that’s my go-to tactic. “You have to quit, FC,” I say seriously.

  “Just for you, I will, but I can’t say when I’ll do it. That’s the best promise I can give you, Idaline.”

  I nod. If that’s the best he can do, I believe him. FC doesn’t lie. Well, I like to believe he doesn’t lie to me. He may not tell me everything about his life, but surely what he does tell me is the truth. Well, most of the time. I think I get white lies sometimes.

  “I’m going to try to do better to talk to you, okay? To make sure your breakup goes fine, and if it doesn’t, you call me. I’m not as far away as before. I’ll get in the car and come if you need me to.”

  My shoulders slump a bit. I like what I hear, but not completely.

  “What is it?” FC asks, clearly able to see that I’m not totally thrilled with what he’s said.

  “So, you’ll only meet me if it’s to rescue me?” I try my best to keep my voice light, but I’m afraid FC knows me too well.

  “Of course not. Hey, how about this, the next time I can get away, I call you and come down there.”<
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  “Really?” After all these years, he finally wants to meet?

  “Yeah. I don’t have a timeline, but you’ll be my next destination, I promise.”

  “Okay. I’ll hold you to that. I have to get back to work. We’ll talk soon, right?”

  FC nods. “It was good to see you, Idaline.”

  “You too. Bye.”

  We hang up. I wish I trusted his word. He had me until he said he didn’t have a timeline. That might as well mean we’ll meet anywhere from this year to ten years from now. There’s no reason to dwell on it now, though. I have to get back to work.

  While I’ve been through a lot of breakups in my twenty-five years and I’ve been the one to break off many of them, that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to do or lessens my anxiety about doing it. And after hearing the concern in FC’s voice, I’m having serious anxiety over breaking up with Daniel. It doesn’t help that when I walk out of work for the day, I find him leaning against my car.

  “Hey, Daniel,” I say with an uneasy smile. I can do this, I remind myself. My head already feels light, my chest hurts, and my heart barrels into my ribcage with every beat, demanding to escape this situation.

  “Hey.” He kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in years, earning a whistle from someone walking by. “Surprised?”

  “Yes. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought we could go out to dinner.”

  “Um, well.” My hands tingle, another sign my panic continues to rise. “Can we talk?” I push out, sucking in a deep breath.

  Daniel eyes me. “Talk?” He laughs. “You sound like you want to break up with me.”

  If I stay silent, he’ll get the hint and I won’t have to say anything at all. He should get the hint fast because I actually can’t do this. All I can hear in my head is what he said to the bartender, which in the moment I shrugged off, but afterward, it began to bother me: Flirt with my girlfriend again and I’ll take you outside and beat you until you’re bloody. And then, he gave me a look.

  “You want to break up with me?” he asks incredulously. “Why? Things are going great, Idaline!”

  Oh, no. He was supposed to accept this. I suddenly can’t breathe, as if our relationship has a vise-like grip on my throat. This isn’t happening the way I wanted. I grab the sideview mirror, gasping for air.

  “Idaline? Are you okay?” Daniel asks with concern.

  I manage to shake my head. Before I can sit on the pavement, too dizzy and weak to stand, Daniel sweeps me into his arms. He wants to take me inside the nursing home where I work, but I shake my head. “Put me in my car.”

  My eyes close as my arms begin to feel numb. Things are fine. I’m not stuck in this situation. Daniel won’t hurt me. If I can’t break up with him today, there’s always tomorrow and text messages. All I have to do is get this panic attack under control, tell him I’m too tired to go out, and get away from him. I try to control my breathing by only breathing through my nose and forcing myself to slow down. It takes some time, but I manage to at least do that. Everything feels wrong and out of control as the numbness returns to tingles, my heart continues to beat erratically, and my head remains mush and useless.

  As I search through my purse for the pills I take when my anxiety gets out of hand, I say, “I don’t think I can go out tonight, Daniel. I’m going home.”

  “I’ll follow you there and pick up dinner. Make sure you’re okay. It’s just a panic attack, right?”

  A nail might as well have run down a chalkboard. Just a panic attack? I’m not taking what I’ve dubbed my panic pills because of something he makes sound causal and simple. If I was the type of person to slap another person, I’d slap him right now; that’s how angry it makes me for him to dismiss what I’m experiencing.

  “You don’t have to,” I tell him after quickly swallowing my pill.

  “Of course I do. And it’s obvious now we shouldn’t break up. You couldn’t even say it without panicking about being without me. What would you do if I wasn’t here to help take care of you? You need me in your life, Idaline.” Daniel stands. “I’ll pick up Japanese food and be there shortly.” He closes my door before I can object again.

  Fucking great.

  Despite the wonders of my panic pill, which is supposed to calm me and subdue my panic, I’m on edge all evening while Daniel spends time with me. He pampers me and waits on me. He’s on the best behavior I’ve seen since we first met.

  My phone vibrates with a text from “Fiona”, also known as FC.

  FC: Did you do it yet?

  Me: Tried and failed. Here now, so talk later.

  FC: Try again.

  Me: I will, but not today.

  I’m too tired from the earlier panic attack and its remaining effects. Not to mention, I don’t care to break up with him while he’s in my apartment. That seems like a recipe for disaster. And what if FC is being overly cautious? What if Daniel was being an annoying showoff of a macho man, thinking I would like that behavior? Maybe if I talk to him about it next time it happens, he won’t do it anymore. Then I won’t have to break up with him at all.

  I give FC endless chances, and he doesn’t even realize some of them. I can give Daniel another chance.

  I’m cooking dinner for the wicked witch, who has had a party in the apartment every night for…I’ve lost count how many days. I’ve been tired from a lack of decent sleep for too long. It doesn’t help that every time I’ve messaged Idaline lately she’s been with the boyfriend she’s supposed to have broken up with already. The fact that she hasn’t really worries me. The moment she told me about how he reacted to harmless flirting, which she didn’t partake in, and how he reacted to hearing about me, I knew she needed to get away from him. He’s a Lila waiting to happen.

  I open the oven, pull the rack out some, and reach for the pizza pan. She said she wanted dinner. She didn’t say I had to put some effort into it. The oven sits in the wall, about chest height, and I don’t pay attention when I reach for the pan. My arm is too low and it touches the searing hot rack, burning my arm. I unceremoniously drop the pizza pan onto the stovetop, close the oven, turn it off, and make my way to the bathroom.

  As I’m filtering through the medicine cabinet, my eyes land on Lila’s birth control pills. As if I have no control over my body, my hand reaches for the package; my mind insists that I need to look at it. I pull the pills out. My stomach drops like a cinderblock and churns with the worst case of nausea I’ve ever had. Not a single pill has been taken.

  Okay. Maybe this is a new prescription.

  With a terrible feeling, I look at the date, dropping the pills to lurch for the toilet and throw up. That bitch. She hasn’t been taking her birth control for three months! I can’t… I don’t… There’s no telling how many times she was able to talk me into having sex without a condom or how many times I gave in just so I didn’t have to get kicked out and sleep in a hotel room for the night.

  I flush the toilet and hear the front door close. …

  She’s home. Spitting into the sink, I grab the pills and storm out of the bathroom.

  “Pizza, FC? That’s the best you could do?”

  “What the fuck is this, Lila?” I shove the pills in her face.

  She doesn’t flinch. She barely reacts at all. “My pills. What’s your problem, FC?” she asks calmly.

  “My problem is you’re a lying bitch! You told me you hadn’t missed one fucking day! These are three months old, Lila!”

  She shrugs. “I’m sure the date is wrong on them.” She walks back into the kitchen to cut the pizza, as if that’s the most important thing right now.

  “Pharmacies don’t fuck up the date. Not to mention, it starts on a Sunday and today is fucking Thursday, Lila! So, what lie do you want to go with? That you haven’t taken them in four days or that the pharmacy fucked up? Did you even take the Plan B pill or whatever the fuck it’s called?”

  She turns to me. “Would it be so bad if we had a baby?”


  I throw the pills at her, narrowly missing her head, which was my intention. “What the fuck is wrong with you? YES! It would be the worst goddamn thing in the world, Lila! What happened to how you didn’t want a baby? You don’t go around and stop taking your birth control. That’s how you trap a man and that’s not fucking right!”

  “Stop yelling at me!” she shouts. “And don’t you ever throw something at me again or it’ll be the last time you do it.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Yes.”

  Unbelievable.

  I turn on my heel and head for the door.

  “Where are you going?” she yells, running after me.

  “To buy you a pregnancy test and to stop by a church to pray like hell it’s negative.” I can not be tied to this woman for life. I can’t. No way in hell. And one thing is for sure, I’ll never have sex with her again. Not after this. She can beat me until I’m within an inch of my life and I’ll tell her she can finish me off because I still won’t have sex with her. What kind of person does that? It was bad enough all the things she did before, but this is too much. To purposely try to bring a life into our fucked up world?

  I nearly have to pull over and throw up again. Instead of two stops, I make three. To the store for a pregnancy test. To the liquor store for a bottle of tequila. And to a church parking lot to pray and start drinking. I’m going to need all the help I can get to get through the agony of waiting to find out if she’s pregnant or not.

  When I return to the apartment to find Lila drinking a glass of wine, I snatch it out of her hands. “Don’t you dare fucking drink when there’s a chance you’re carrying my baby.”

  Her eyes narrow. “It really pisses me off when you drink and I don’t.”

  “Well, you better hope you aren’t fucking pregnant then.” I toss the bag at her and point to the bathroom. I sit on the couch while she leaves to take the test. My tequila is my one and only friend right now. My hands shake with fury and nerves. My stomach is ready to revolt with disgust that I might have a baby with this woman. The tequila tries its best to suppress everything.