|
Two: Abbey Road "She’s
not mine” Kevin replied surely, as his eyes darted over the tables in the
small café. She bit her bottom lip, and sucked in a sharp breath; her brown
eyes bore anger, disbelief and disappointment. “How
could you say that?” she gritted angrily, throwing her spoon with a clatter on
the small saucer. He
glowered at her a placid expression etched plainly on his brooding features.
“We used protection. You were on the Pill… it couldn’t have happened” he
rationalized. “For
God’s sake, they’re not fool proof” she hissed, arising from her seat. By
now, several patrons and a few staff had begun to watch the drama unfolding
before them. Agitation
crossed over his features, his eyes darting wearily around the small café.
“Isabelle, sit down okay? You’re making a spectacle of yourself” he
instructed patronizingly, before pulling out the chair adjoining his. A
sadistic smile crossed over her delicate features, her lips thinning into a wry
smile before she grabbed the seat forcefully from his grasp and sat back down.
“Look, I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t sure, okay? Carrying Abby
around isn’t easy, and she’s definitely not easy to take care of” she
hissed, carrying the steaming cup of coffee to her lips. It burned her tongue,
forcing her to set it back on the table. Kevin
contemplated this information, watching her carefully as she went about adding a
sachet of sugar to her coffee. It couldn’t be. We were careful…always.
It took another two minutes before he spoke. “I don’t know… I’m really
busy… we have to tour, it’s not-“ Isabelle
took in a sharp breath, a grimace pulled on her small face “Kevin, I don’t
want to come with you on tour. You and I are over… I mean, we made that
decision a year ago that it wasn’t gonna work. I know that” she paused,
holding his doubtful gaze for some sort of understanding. She found none, but
persisted. “All I want for Abby now is to know her father” she finished off,
still holding his gaze. How
can I believe her?
He thought, defensively, while memories of their torrid relationship together
ran through his head like a film. How can I not though? Licking his lips,
he sighed. He glanced down at the chubby, cherub faced treasure, blubbering in
indechiperable baby talk, giggling at him with open admiration. A tight smile
broke through his hard façade, before he caught her brown eyes. “Kevin,
you know me.” She started. “I mean, I’ve always been too proud to ask. You
know it’s not me. I’d never beg” Isabelle’s voice was breaking, and it
took all of Kevin’s courage not to reach out and comfort her. Those days were
over; they weren’t lovers, barely friends, yet they were more than strangers
or acquaintances. It seemed to complicate further with an absurd notion of a
child. “Abby
is yours alone, Kevin; you gotta know that” “How
could you expect me to believe you?” he uttered after a long pause. “I knew
nothing about your pregnancy, and now you show up with a kid you’re claiming
is mine, when we broke up over a year ago…”
Isabelle’s
voice was low, controlled. “You know, it’s times like these which make it
glaringly obvious why I didn’t want to tell you” she shook her head, waning
a think grimace “I’m sorry you
feel this way and I’m sorry I came” With
that, she swung her bag over one shoulder, bassinette in the other and left the
small café, the glass door swinging long after she left. Kevin
stayed there, absentmindedly stirring his coffee, just watching what once was
and what wasn’t disappear out the door. "Mom,
don't go" she sobbed, her chest heaving as she gulped down fresh tears.
"Come back" she babbled on, clutching her mother's cool hand. The
figure lay still, unmoving as the door to the hospital room eased quietly.
Shuffling footsteps could be heard as a deep voice cleared his throat. She
looked up with her tear stained cheeks, eyes wet and red from incessant bawling.
"Doctor Mitchell, can't you pump her up?" She bawled, looking up at
the man in the white coat. "Look" she held up the woman's limp wrist
"She's not moving!" she screamed as new tears began to roll down the
smooth contours of her innocent face. "And
look..." she pointed toward the scars and blood clots on her mother's
smooth face "She's scarred... make her beautiful again!" The
doctor shook his head sadly as he looked down forlornly at the ten year old
before him, her dark hair matted wetly against her cheeks. "Mommy....
mommeee.... I need you!" she cried in desperation bawling as she beat the
covers, jostling the unmoving figure hooked to intravenous tubes. "I
know" she cried as she wavered a smile through her tears. "I'll sing,
then mommee will wake up... she always sings to me when I'm sick..." The
doctor shook his head as he watched the small girl pull up a chair to the bed.
Clearing her voice she began to sing in innocent lisp "In a town/ Where I
was born/ lived a man/ who sailed to sea/ and he told about his life/ in a
yellow submarine...." Her
innocent voice brought new significance to the story of the man who lived in a
submarine, her eyes glistening full of hope, as she looked down expectantly at
her mother's grazed face. "Mommee...wake
up...it's Abbey Road mommee...." she pleaded once more as she burst into a
fresh flood of tears. The
door creaked open slightly as the doctor gestured the person to come through. "Give
her a few moments... " he nodded as the doctor left the room. He
watched her failing body, hooked up to the life support system and the little
girl keeping vigil. Guiltily he stood, transfixed by the door; a shadow of
someone that was, a figure that could be. Whispering words of wisdom... let it be |
|
©
sayamaru and 'Bittersweet Rhapsodies' 2001-02 No
part of this website may be reproduced in part or in whole without permission of
the author/webmistress. All ideas, graphics and layouts and backgrounds and stories are copyright of sayamaru and Bittersweet Rhapsodies. I am in no way affiliated with the Backstreet Boys, their management wives/girlfriends or the girls used in these stories. |