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 issued a tight smile while she picked up the bassinette and the baby blue bag, pregnant with baby supplies. Her large hoop earrings jangled against her dark hair. In one fleeting glance, she read Kevin’s open mouthed gaze.

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

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