Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,6

the door. Thank you.”

“Okay.” I heard her scamper off and then a quiet thud let me know that she was back.

This was followed by the trickling of liquid hitting the bowl of water underneath me as blood trickled down into the toilet. Nabbing my phone, I called my doctor directly and told him what had happened. This was his profession, so he was not as worried as I was but calm.

“Sheryl, this sounds like a miscarriage, but get cleaned up and come into the office now. I’ll meet you there.”

“Right,” I told him and hung up the phone.

A miscarriage.

The word kept circulating around my head as I realized the distant dream of something I didn’t know I wanted was gone. Having a kid was not really a priority. They often seemed to be more of an inconvenience, but this…well, it felt like an opportunity. Something that would add meaning to my existence. A company might boast about its owner, but in the next breath trash them. Then say shit like, It was good when it started or they had a good concept, but we’re taking it to another level. This shit wasn’t fulfilling. I mean, it was—until I realized I was pregnant.

My mind finally wrapped around the idea that I was going to have a child, so I began to look at my health insurance differently. I changed my doctors, took a look at my will, and started rethinking my whole life. I had begun to fully get used to the fact that I was going to have a child. I’d signed up for parenting classes, Lamaze classes, and everything.

Now, nothing.

After seeing the doctor and deciding to have them finish the job, crying to him that I’d never be able to bear kids, I went home and contemplated drinking the bottle of Jack Daniels, but they said something about no alcohol, because it would cause more bleeding. I did not want to feel, but simply escape. Far, far away. Well, until I finally told someone, which happened to be the man that was the father.

Jacquez Costa.

I could not believe he responded in the way he had. Shit, I never expected him to track me down like he did. I hadn’t thought I was going to tell him at first. Well, not like that. Maybe in a text or something. However, seeing him at that wedding was … well, it was triggering. Simply because I remembered what that arrogant specimen of a man had done with that thing below his belt. Therefore, his conversation about meeting him at the W was an automatic yes. I could definitely go for another ride with him, though I never did seconds. The only saving grace was he lived in London, and I did not have to talk to him or be connected to him in a permanent way.

The night before seemed so surreal, because for a moment in time, he and I were not the bantering rich people that we postured ourselves to be. No shields. No guards. Just two people who’d experienced a tragedy. I couldn’t remember a time in my adult life where I was able to lean on someone in that way. Even my friend Maxine. She’d never known I was pregnant. Mainly because I didn’t want to take away from her moment.

My mother was a hard woman and did not show much emotion besides anger and frustration. She was not one for tears. Literally, she’d say, “Stop all that damn crying. You know what needs to be done.” She was also mentally unstable half of the time, so it was more of a relationship where I was the adult. One that I did not want to repeat.

My motto was to put the bullshit behind me and handle business. That’s how I lived my life for the most part—except that night with Jacquez.

Fuck, I’d needed that moment with him, more than I knew. It was like a form of therapy in a way. Definitely a cleansing. As I watched the sun rise over the skyline, I reflected on the loss of my child and let the tears slide down my face. There would be no seeing them grow up, nor the love that I could give them. The things I could teach him or her. They could be groomed to run my businesses. There were so many things I was open to think about with the hope that I would conceive a child.

Now that dream was crushed.

Like a fucking bug.

More tears