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When I dreamt, I dreamt of her. I dreamt of how I first walked into class and saw her sitting there. She looked so shy. She withdrawn. Yet so beautiful. A beauty foreign to me. True beauty. Inside and out. I could feel it when I sat down next to her. Beauty just poured out of her, all over me. Not just physical, but so much more than that.

I dreamt of how she let me kiss her, that very first time. And how electricity surged through my veins as her lips pressed against mine. And when I wake, I wonder, was this entirely my fault? It must be. I started it all. She was only helping me with math, and I hit on her. I made the first move. I ruined all chances of us being together for good. I ruin everything. Everything I touch turns to shit, and our relationship was no exception.

Still, she was going to have my baby. And she never even bothered to call or write a letter. She didn’t want me in her life anymore. Hers or our baby’s. But I can’t stay away. I can’t stay here in Orlando, knowing she’s there, knowing I’m a father, and knowing I have wrongs to make right. My responsibilities lie in Phoenix. I’ve got a family waiting there for me, and I intend to win them back.

~*~*~*~*~*~


I worked my ass off my senior year. I’m rebellious, and I may break a lot of rules, but I’m no dumbass. And when it came to my schoolwork, I wasn’t about to start slacking off. When I needed help, I got it. And when a teacher put a project before me, I completed it and aced it with flying colors. And the SAT Prep course paid off when I got that 1220. I bet Monica got at least 1400. She’s so smart, you know?

I started filling out mad applications. I must have went broke sending in all those application fees. T helped me with my essays and stuff. She’s good with words. Then, I bugged all my favorite teachers for recommendations. I’m not sure what they wrote, since they’re sealed when they gave ‘em back to me, but I’m sure they’re good. I mean, no one here wants to see me fail in my attempts to make it into college.

Around the beginning of March, I got some letters back. Two came on the same day. The rest came a little later. I saved them all. I wasn’t about to open them as I got them. ‘Cause if they were rejections, knowing me, I wouldn’t open any more that came back. So, I opened them all at once. And yeah, I was scared. I won’t front, I might have got a little teary-eyed. I mean, who doesn’t get a little scared when it comes to college replies? It’s some scary shit. It’s like, for that brief moment, sliding your finger through the envelope, pulling out the paper, unfolding it... your whole, entire future is in their hands. Whatever they say will shape your tomorrow. If they accept you, it can make you. If they reject you, it can break your ass. So of course I was scared. I had everything riding on this. Their acceptance of me was my ticket to Monica and my baby. The only way I’d get there to see them. To be with them. To live with them. To claim my family. To put my heart back together, because they were the missing pieces.

I opened the first letter. Rejection. Too full. “Apply again for the Spring semester.” Fuck that! Spring is too far away! I wanna be there when my baby’s born. I wanna go to Monica now!

Second letter. Rejection.

I couldn’t take it. I dropped the rest to the floor and walked away from it. I just couldn’t make myself open another. If I saw another apology... if I saw another excuse for why I’m not good enough, I was going to crack. My patience was very short. I wanted this too much to be rejected. I ran down the stairs, passed my mother’s room, and down the second set of stairs, right out of the front door.

I sat down on the front steps, and I just stared at my neighborhood. Up the street. Down the street. It all seemed so meaningless to me now. At one point in time, Orlando was all I ever wanted. Needed. Orlando was my best friend. The city that loved me. At one point in time I thought that I’d die here. That nothing would ever change. That there was no need for change. But now there was. Now there was Monica. And she was the moon and stars to me. So much more than this street. This neighborhood. This city. My life, and everything in it, felt so empty without her by my side.

I looked over to my right, and I swear I saw her. She was hugging my arm, resting her head on my shoulder. I could smell her hair. Smelled like strawberries to me. And the scent took me back to the first time I held her in my arms, so intimately. I never felt so good. To feel her nails in my back. To hear her moaning, calling my name, breathing so heavily that she almost died in my embrace. Death. How else could I describe making love to her? It was like dying, and being reborn. With each thrust, with each kiss, with every touch and every lick I was dying. And it felt so wonderful, to feel my life falling away from me. No sensation in my fingers or toes, yet the slightest touch of her lips to my skin sent electricity through my veins. One orgasm after another. One release after another. Death after death leading to rebirth. Deep. Deepest shit I ever experienced. Too deep for me to even think about without losing my mind.

But she wasn’t there. She wasn’t sitting next to me. And I wasn’t smelling her strawberry hair. I was just sitting on the steps. Looking at my neighborhood. Stuck in the city that loves me so much.

Ma came rushing out on the porch, and she took a seat next to me. She wrapped one arm around me, and shoved something in my face. It was one of the letters I had abandoned on the floor in my room.

“I couldn’t resist. I had to opened the rest. Look, Papi, three acceptances. Mi hijo, you’re going to college!”

Was this true? It couldn’t be! Why would any university accept me? AJ McLean. Troublemaker. A Latino with a record. No fucking way they were going to accept me! But they had. Three of them had. I had my pick. I was going to college. I was going to Arizona. The University of Phoenix to be exact. Looking at my acceptance gave me a natural high. Nothing was going to stop me now.

I reached down and picked my mother up. She shrieked in shock, hitting my playfully and telling me to put her down between laughs. I did as she told me to, but I couldn’t contain my excitement. I felt like screaming, so I did. Suddenly, everything was right in my world. Then I noticed something. Ma, she was crying. And it wasn’t a joyful cry. She was hurting inside.

I sat back down next to her and asked what was wrong. She wiped her eyes, and then placed her hand on my cheek.

“Time goes by so fast, Alex. It feels like just yesterday I was changing your diapers. Then I was teaching you how to ride your first bicycle. Next thing I know, you’re growing hair in all sorts of places and going through puberty. And it was hard for me then because your father wasn’t around to guide you through those important times in your life. And sometimes, when you started to rebel and act out, I thought it was all my fault. Like I wasn’t a good mother. But now, you’re going to graduate. And you’re going to go off to college and become someone big. I can see it all now, mi hijo. You’re headed for excellence, baby. But it’s just so hard to let you go. You’re young, you’ve got dreams, you’re in love. Still, you’re ready to go out there and balance a family as well as a college education. And I just.... I just.... oh, I love you so much, mi hijo. I only want what’s best for you.” She held my head against her chest and patted my hair. And I felt like a little boy again when she did that. It was a good feeling.

“I talked to your uncle Benny yesterday afternoon while I was on my break at work. He agreed to help you get through your first year. And your second if you need it. But you have to work to help yourself as well, and you know that. And I know that you can. You’ve never been shy about working hard. Oh, we’re gonna have to go shopping for you. And you’re gonna need one of those little flat computers. You’ll need a little vacuum, you know how much of a neat freak you are, Alex. And you’ll need plenty of extra blankets and such. Phoenix is in Arizona, nothing but desert down there, and it gets cold at night in the desert, mi hijo.” I sat up and looked at my mother, who was busying herself by thinking of everything he needed before he would leave, when he wouldn’t leave for months yet.

“Ma, calm down. We have plenty of time to get all that stuff. And it’s not like I’ll be camping out with the coyotes and cacti. I’ll be in a warm dorm room. And everything will be fine. I know you weren’t expecting me to leave home any time soon. Neither was I. For all I knew, I was going to keep on working at the garage until I made enough money to get my own apartment or whatever. But this is better, for all of us. Me, you, Monica, and the baby. She needs me, whether she admits it or not. And I need to be there with her. I can’t believe I’m saying this but, I think going there and taking responsibility for our baby will be the best for me. It’s about time I got my priorities straight.”

Ma and I were already close. We always have been. But, sitting there, talking to her, we reached a higher plane. I thank my mother for being to good to me. I could never ask for a better parent. She’s sacrificed for me countless time. She’s almost always put me first. And she deserves some payback. And I’m certain that if I go out west and really make something of myself, she’ll be paid back in full. After all, that’s all she really wants from me. I know it. All she wants is for me to succeed and have all the things she never did.

I swear, the second I can, I will spoil my mother with all of the things she’s ever dreamed of. She deserves it. That alone is incentive to make it big one day.

~*~*~*~*~*~


His name’s Mike. He’s from New York. He said he was sick of the big city. He has a serious New Yorker’s accent. But I like it. It’s fun to hear him talk. When he talks, that is. He’s the quiet type. Looks and acts like he’s high when he’s not. Laid back. Cool, not phased by much. He sleeps a lot. He snores. But then again, I do too. Plus, we’re guys. And most guys don’t get their boxers in a twist over that stuff. Well, at least we don’t.

He eats constantly. Snacks as well as meals. He brought a fridge with him. I think he bought it the minute he got here. He’s open to letting me share it. And we share food. I mean, if I have something in the fridge, he’s welcome to it. And he says the same for me. But mostly, we don’t bother each other’s stuff. And if we do, we usually ask first. Common courtesy. I think we’re gonna get along just fine. It’s weird though. I’ve always been an only child, spoiled, and used to being alone and having things my way. But, with Mike as my roommate, I’m used to sharing my space already. I hope we room together next year as well, that is, if we’re both still here. I hope so.

We had a good talk this one night. I had just come up from the lobby downstairs. We ordered pizza and I had to race back to our room before any of the other guys on our floor smelled it. For some odd reason, in the dorm, the smell of good and greasy food travels fast as hell.

When I got back, we both started eating, and I put in a DVD for us to watch. Yeah, I had to bring my PS2. I had my Ma’s TV. Mine was too big, so she uses mine and I took the one from her bedroom. And we had all his games, as well as mine. All his movies, as well as mine. Our room was small, but packed as hell. We were never bored. Only thing was, because of all the shit we brought from home, we had to keep it clean, otherwise there would be no room to move around.

Anyway, we’re watching some movie. I don’t remember what. And he asked who the girl was in all my pictures on the bulletin board on my side of the room. Some were of T, but I knew who he was referring to. Monica. God. I hadn’t really sat and thought about her since I got to Phoenix. I mean, I thought of her constantly, but never did I just pause everything and just allow my mind to slip into the utopian dream-like thoughts of her.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend. She lives in Phoenix, but I haven’t gone to see her since I got here. I’m planning on tracking her down tomorrow.” I kept eating.

“Still love her?” Mike asked.

“Love her? Shit, I’m in love with her. She’s done for me what no other girl would have. She really changed me, for the better that is. I might not have even applied to college had it not been for her. It’s like the movie with Jack Nicholson. She makes me wanna be a better man, you know?”

“Yeah, I feel you. She still love you?” Mike asked.

“I hope so. I want her to so bad, you have no idea. It ended between us kinda badly back in Orlando. I’m just hoping that she’ll take me back. I need her.”

“Well don’t leave me hangin’, dog, what happened?” Mike asked.

“Let’s just say that there was this other girl who was jealous of my love for Monica. And she made it her business to fuck around with me and mess it up for me and Monica. Well, she did. And Monica’s feelings got hurt. So Monica ended it with me, before I could even really explain. I was out of it at the time, I didn’t even know what happened myself. But, anyway, Monica’s father moved out here and Monica went with him. So here I am, ready to win her back if I can.”

“You’re leaving something out. I can tell,” Mike added. I laughed.

“She’s pregnant. And she wasn’t even gonna tell me. She’ll probably have it next month. And I had to come here. Even if she doesn’t want me back. I have to be here for my kid. You know? I’m not gonna run from my kid like my father ran away from me. And I’m gonna be there for Monica. I know her. She’s strong, but she’s even stronger when she has someone who loves her by her side, you know?”

“Yeah, I see what you’re saying. They’re funny creatures, women. I don’t even have to know your girl to know that tomorrow, when you see her, she’ll try to act like she hasn’t been thinking about you non-stop since she left Florida. And she’ll try to convince you that she’s fine and doesn’t need you and is better off on her own. She might even try to make you believe that she has a new boyfriend, who isn’t as great as you once were, but satisfies her for now. But then, God forbid you take her seriously, or else she’ll get all mad. And she’ll say, ‘You should have known I wasn’t fine without you.’ And you’ll say, ‘How was I supposed to know when you told me you were fine???’ And she’ll say, ‘You should know me well enough to know what I meant, even if I said something different.’ Women, I swear...”

It wasn’t so much his words, but his voice for what was supposed to be Monica talking. He was so funny. But he was right, nonetheless. It was something Monica would definitely do. Try to convince me I wasn’t needed and that I’d wasted my time, when we both know that she needs me more than anything now. Why else would she have told my mother and best friend about her pregnancy, and expect me not to find out? Mike was so very right. Women!

~*~*~*~*~*~


I knew where Monica worked. She wrote to T and told me. So I went to the mall to see her. She worked in Waldenbooks. That was so Monica. A bookstore. Her home away from home. I walked inside and started roaming through the aisles. Fiction. Classic American literature. I picked up The Scarlet Letter. I read this in the 8th grade. I remembered liking it. I was just about to keep walking when I heard her voice.

“That’s right under Best Sellers category. We update them every few weeks. See, here it is, Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice.” I could see only the top of her head over the bookcase. But I knew it was her. Her hair was longer, much longer. She had it in a ponytail on the top of her head. And her roots were black. My girl, black roots and platinum ends!

I couldn’t see her stomach from where I was standing. But I wasn’t about to just pop up from no where and say hello. I was much more comfortable standing out of sight and watching her. Listening to her speak. She went back to her seat behind the counter and rang up the book for the lady who had requested it. Only then did I step out into the aisle and really see her. Same smile. Same warm face. My love, but twenty feet away.

My knees felt weak. I couldn’t move. I flopped down onto the footstool and tried to get myself together. What made me so nervous? I knew this girl! I knew her like the back of my hand. I knew every inch of her body. I knew what made her smile, what made her cry. She was my other half. Why couldn’t I move?

I must have sat there for a good ten or twenty minutes. Pretending to be looking through books. Hoping she might happen upon my sorry ass and talk to me first. I was such a wimp. So pathetic. Just Monica. She was just Monica. My safe haven. My Monica.

I got up and I started toward the front counter. And when I got there I placed my hands on the cool surface and slowly raised my eyes to gaze at her. No doubt she had already recognized me.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

Not Monica.

“Where did she go? The girl that was here a minute ago.”

“Monica? Well, she went home. She gets off early nowadays....” I didn’t give her a chance to finish her statement. I rushed out of the bookstore, through Macy’s, and out into the main parking lot. And I saw her. She was getting into a green Neon. With some guy. And he kissed her. They pulled off. She didn’t notice me. She had moved on. She didn’t need me.

I was screwed.

But I didn’t care. I had to see her. I had come all this way, and I couldn’t give up so easily. She didn’t love this guy. She loved me! We were meant to be! I had to go to her.

I knew her address. I had her letter to Ma in my pocket at all times. I asked around and found my way there, after a few bus rides and a unsuccessful treks up and down residential blocks.

Her house was nice. Everything on one floor. Big and flat. It reminded me of those Native American houses. Adobes, I wanna say. But I can’t be sure. The mud houses. It was painted a brownish-pink. Like the mud houses. And, it had a general desert-like look to it. I loved it. There was a pool in the back. I could tell. I could smell it when I first walked up to her door. I didn’t see the green Neon in the driveway, so I was confident that she was alone. If she was even home. I hoped so. I wanted her to be so badly.

I rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. I rang again to make sure. I heard some stirring on the other side of the door.

“Just a second...” she said. She was home! This was it. Reunion.

She swung the door open. Her head was down. She was fumbling with some money. Fresh bills. She had just come from the bank, no doubt. Cashed her check. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and shoved it forward before looking up at me over her cute little glasses. Her hair was still in her face. She shook it away to see me clearly. Double take. She couldn’t believe it. She dropped all of her money. Her bottom lip dropped as well.

“AJ?” she asked, barely above a whisper. She reached out and touched my face. God, her skin was so soft. And she smelled so good. Chanel No. 5. Expensive, but nothing suited her more. I kissed her hand, and she pulled away as if my lips burned. I bent down to pick up her money, and I folded it back into a neat bundle. As I stood back up, I examined her legs. So beautiful. I had to fight to keep from kissing her knees, and tasting her skin. I missed her so much. Squatting in that position before her reminded me of the times I let my tongue explore her, inside and out. And I had to hold on to her just in case she got too weak in the knees.

I stood back up and put her money back in her hand. She still said nothing. She only stared, mouth wide open, eyes bright and alert. I tried to wait for a reaction from her. But I knew my Monica. She could stay frozen and silent for at least another minute. So I took the initiative and wrapped my arms around her. Her hair still smelled of strawberries. And her skin was so smooth. So soft. I kissed her ear and combed through her hair with my fingers. I was home in her arms.

She finally hugged me back. And I felt her entire person loosen up. She was giving into me. I knew she had missed me. From that very moment, I was sure that whatever she may try to say to convince me she was over me, she still loved me with all her heart. Only a woman in love succumbs to a man in a simple embrace the way she did.

“How did you find me here? Why are you here?” she kept asking, stepping backward only for me to step forward to stay close to her.

“I’m here because I love you. I know it’s been a long time, but what we had was so perfect, we can’t just let it die.” It was then I remembered what sparked my journey to Phoenix in the first place. The baby. Our baby. I touched her stomach. But there was nothing there. No huge tummy. No baby. Nothing. Her body felt no different than it had when I last touched her in Orlando.

“They told you. I figured they would. But I never thought you’d come all this way because of it,” she said. I was confused. Had she lied to T and Ma? Was there no baby at all? What the hell was going on? I saw the sonogram! Where was this baby?

Monica turned away from me and disappeared around a corner. I followed her, trailing behind her every step down a long hallway, which led to almost every area of the house. I called her name, but she wouldn’t turn around. And then, she just stopped. We weren’t at the end of the hall, but very close to it. She backed up against the wall, ext to a half-open door. The door was to her room. I could tell. I remembered the smell. The décor. From what I could see, nothing much had changed. She lowered her head and began to cry.

“Monica, what’s wrong?” I asked. No answer. She only raised her head, wiped away her tears, and pushed the door open all the way.

I looked inside, scanned the room. Nothing to cry over. Nothing except the tiny little baby lying on its stomach, on a soft baby blanket, in the middle of her bed. There was a baby monitor propped up on the pillows at the head of the bed. Red light on. The baby stirred. Its little mouth twitched. Little hand balled into a fist, then released.

I hadn’t realized that I had completely entered the room. And I was standing but a few feet away from this angelic little child. In the very back of my mind, everything was quite clear. I knew who this child was. And I understood all the circumstances regarding this child. Even so, as I stood there, I couldn’t quite figure out what was going on. This wasn’t what I had expected. She was supposed to still be carrying the baby. And I was supposed to ride in on my white horse and confess my love for her. And she was supposed to take me back. And we were supposed to be together. And then our baby would be born. And everything would work itself out.

But here was this gorgeous child. So tiny. So very tiny. And so fragile. Beautiful. The most beautiful thing that I’d ever beheld in my entire existence. Well, aside from Monica’s face.

Monica moved passed me and gently picked the child up from the bed. The baby stirred again. Yawned, mouth so wide that I could see way down into its throat. Then this baby’s little face distorted, tiny little wrinkle lines formed between its eyes on across its forehead. This baby’s eyes opened. This baby’s eyes were my own. This baby began to cry, but only for a short while. Monica quickly sat in a chair near the bed and lifted her shirt.

Though I had seen, touched, kissed, and caressed every single part of Monica’s lovely body... I had to turn away from this. I felt awful for doing so. But I had never witnessed a mother nursing a child. And it just felt so very strange to just sit back and watch. I stood in the doorway, trying to force myself to look at them. Look at the woman I love, and my...

“His name’s Xander. I guess you know why, huh?” She whispered. I had to look at them then. A son. I had a son. And she named him after me. Well, close enough. Xander. My son. And he was so small. Cherubic. Like a little treasure, in my Monica’s arms.

“I should have told you myself, I’m sorry. It’s just that, things ended so badly. And you were so scared that I’d be pregnant in the first place. I didn’t want you to get all worried.” She couldn’t even look me in the eye as she spoke. She just kept her head down. And with her free hand, she stroked Xander’s hair.

“He was two months early. Just couldn’t wait to come into the world. He’s very impatient. He doesn’t wait for anything. Just like his Daddy, you think?” I had to laugh. Despite the seriousness of the whole situation, she had a point. I was very impatient. If I were patient, she may never have had to move. She may never have gotten pregnant.

I sat down on the bed, very near to the two of them. And I could smell them both. Monica and her sweetness. Xander and his freshness. He smelled of baby power, baby lotion, Johnson & Johnson. His little hand was resting on the inner curve of Monica’s breast. I traced around his fingers, reveling in the feel of her skin. I couldn’t help it. I missed her. I finally slipped my finger between his hand and Monica, and he began to squeeze. Strong grip. Fingers so tiny. This was my son.

I felt like crying. And I did. Silently. No sobbing, no weeping, none of that serious stuff. Just tears. Only first-time fathers know what it feels like to touch your child for the first time and be filled with happiness, and joy, and pride, and this overwhelming urge to protect that baby and that baby’s mother. Even if you don’t love her, you want to protect her. In my case, I loved my baby’s mother more than anything. And so I cried. My heart was going to burst.

When Monica and I made love in the woods by the pond that evening, I had no idea that this would come. I had no idea that I would be sitting here, admiring my own family. I never thought that as I collapsed between her legs, the place I considered sacred and safe, my comfort zone... I never imagined in a million years that we had just created a new life deep within her womb. And now that life was here, in her arms, gripping my finger. And yes, all I could do was cry.

Monica’s hand moved from Xander’s head to mine. She touched my face, smoothed away my tears, ran her thumb over my lips. Oh, Monica. If she only knew how wonderful that felt. Her touch alone could send my flying.

I don’t know how long I sat there. But I was taken out of my trance when Xander stopped nursing and Monica picked him up, allowing his head to rest on her shoulder. This was a side of Monica I had never seen before. Her maternal side. She handled him with such care and caution. She did look different to me. Older. Older yet younger. She was still just a child. And so was I. God. I never really thought about that before. I’ve always been the man of my house. I’ve always been the adult. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have an Oedipus Complex on anything. I’ve just always been Ma’s partner, her counterpart. And now, here, on my own, I was still a minor. A kid myself. And she was a year younger than me, yet.

I never bothered to think about her. She would be 17 soon. And I would be 18 soon. But we were still so young. God. Children raising a child. Why had I been so irresponsible? Why didn’t I think before I acted? If I truly loved Monica, I should have used protection before having sex with her. She deserved that much. I can’t even imagine what she had to go through to have this baby. All because we were impatient, young, stupid, eager, careless, horny, and lacking common sense. Children.

She took the baby into the living room, which was connected to the kitchen. She put him into his swing, and turned the timer back. The swing began to rock back and forth. His little mouth slanted upward, his attempt at a smile, the rocking amused him. He amused me. I was so taken by him. Ah, but he also intimidated me now. Sure, he was cute then. But what happens when he needs new shoes? New clothes? Diapers? Bottles? Formula? Medicine? Toys? Then more clothes, more shoes, pull-ups, "sippee" cups, bigger toys, and the list never changes until he’s in high school. Then he can get a job. But then there’s insurance, for both his life and the car he’ll want, no doubt. There’s class dues, graduation, prom, girlfriends, the newest fashions, the most expensive shoes, those goofy graphing calculators that will cost a good $500 by the time he takes Algebra. Then there’s college, and Goldsmith, that might as well be $50-70,000 by the time he turns eighteen. And that’s WITH scholarships! We’ll be taking care of this kid for at least twenty-one years, and that’s only if he doesn’t go to graduate school. And no doubt Monica will want him to. So, we’ll be taking care of him until he’s twenty-six! GOD!

“I had that same face when I spent my first night with him. Thinking about the future? All the money we’ll need, all the time, and the stress he’ll put us through. And just imagine, when I thought about all that stuff, I was preparing to raise him alone...” She touched my arm then, and I turned to her. She was asking me so many questions with just her eyes. But they all boiled down to whether or not I was going to stay and help her. She wasn’t expecting me to show up. But, she had wanted me to, so badly. I could tell. I could see it in her eyes.

“I’m never gonna let you go again, Monica,” I assured her. And I meant it.

~*~*~*~*~*~


The pizza came. We ate. We talked. We caught up. I was amazed at all she had done since that fateful night in Orlando. When she first found out she was pregnant, she didn’t panic. She had been preparing herself for the worst ever since she realized we hadn’t used protection the very last time we made love.

She signed up for night classes. With all of the various credits she had acquired hopping from one high school to the next, she only needed a few to promote herself to senior status. She talked to her counselor several times. And she was able to work out a plan. If she graduated with the rest of the seniors, she could take a year off to care for the baby, and work. Then, at the year’s end, she could pick up with college, starting as a freshman. That way she’d still be on track with her age group. And by then, the baby would be of age to stay at daycare while she took classes. AND, she’d be able to work too, because her classes would be spaced out enough to allow her time to spend with the baby and handle a part-time job. True, her schedule would be hectic, but she could handle it. She was determined too. There was no way she was going to give up her baby. That and she was not about to be an uneducated mother. If she was ever going to be able to provide for her baby, she would have to have a college education to get a good job.

I was shocked. Utterly shocked. I knew Monica was smart. But I never knew how mature and thorough she was. She didn’t let the pregnancy depress her. It just made her stronger.

She told me that her father was a little depressed about the whole thing at first. But he was the type of person to just accept what just was. And she was just pregnant. There was no going back. There was no reversing it. And he didn’t believe it abortion, so he didn’t even suggest it. And he hated the idea of having his blood in the home of someone. So giving the baby up for adoption was out of the question. If he was going to be a grandfather, he wanted his grandchild within his reach.

She also told me that Candie playing a big part in her father’s understanding. Candie was also in the army. She worked with her father in Texas. She was from Texas. And she had a cute southern accent, so Monica said. Her full name was Veronica Hershey. So, of course, she was always known as Lieutenant Hershey. That’s how she got her nickname, Candie.

“Daddy’s always been smitten with her. She’s the only one that makes him get all mushy and soft-like.” I could tell that Candie wasn’t the only one with a southern accent. Monica had a tendency to do that. She had been so many places that she really didn’t have a certain dialect. So she just adopted whatever was spoken at her current residence.

According to her, Candie and her father had always kept in touch. And they had been in love for years. It had just been put on hold since they were never in the same area. But now, since they were both here in Phoenix, they could rekindle their love. And they were even headed for marriage. Monica was ecstatic about the whole thing. In fact, they were together on vacation in Las Vegas. That’s why the house was empty when I got there, and would be for three more days. She went on to explain to me how she had to get a baby sitter to watch Xander during the day while she worked.

I told her my story. About how I found out. About how I buckled down on my schoolwork. And all about how I was willing to do anything to get out here to Phoenix and be here for her when the baby came. Only thing was I was too late, because little Xander was too early. Monica was so happy that I came out to go to school. She said that it meant I could get a good job doing whatever made me happy. And if all else failed, I could still become a teacher. And though a teacher’s salary wasn’t huge or luxurious, it was more than enough to raise a baby on. And she was very excited about what I wanted to do. I mean, I had only made my mind up about it a few days before. But, I decided to major in business. Then I would minor in auto-mechanics. I mean, who knows? I could build my own auto shop. Have people working for me. I liked the sound of that. Teaching Xander how to change the oil. Listening to Monica yapping about the grease and dirt under both our nails when we come home. I could see it all now. I liked what I saw. It wouldn’t be so bad. We’d make due somehow.

Before we knew it, the sun had set and Xander was fast asleep. I picked him up out of the swing and took him back to Monica’s room.

“Are you going back to campus tonight?” she asked, standing in the hall watching me put my son down in his crib.

“Do you want me to?” I asked.

“You don’t have to. I mean, there’s plenty of room here. We’ve got a guest room. And if you wanna watch television, you can sleep in the living room. The sofa in there is pretty comfortable.” I went out into the hallway, closing the door just a little. Then I got up close to her and took both of her hands in mine.

“Why don’t you come into the guest room with me?” I asked her. She began to blush.

“So much has changed, AJ. We can’t just pick up where we left off. I’m seeing someone new now. I had no idea you’d show up here. And besides, no good will come to us if I go into that room with you tonight. Ok?” God, she was so beautiful. I wanted to kiss her lips so badly, and every other part of her for that matter. I knew she was wrong. We did belong together. Maybe some things changed, but we were still in love. I felt it.

Either way, I wasn’t about to piss her off by pushing the subject. So, I kissed her forehead and went into the living room. Maybe TV would get my mind off things. And hell, maybe it would keep me occupied while my extreme hard-on went down. I’m surprised she didn’t feel it. I sure did. My jeans were but so baggy.

I was watching a repeat of the Sopranos for a bit when I heard the water in the shower running. She was naked. All soapy and sudsy and shiny. Damn. I started to get hard again. There was nothing I could do to remedy it either. I’m not the type who compulsively jerks off. I only do that when there is no other alternative. In such a case as this, my dick had a mind of its own. And even if my brain sends messages down south that “it’s just not gonna happen,” my dick sends messages back up north that “if Monica is just down the hall, something better happen, and I won’t go down until it does.”

So, because my southern region was aching for attention and my northern region was not, I let the Confederacy win. Hooray for the rebel states. That’s a bit of U.S. history for you.

Anyway, I snuck back to the bathroom and gently opened the door. Typical of Monica to leave it unlocked. It wasn’t like she had any little brothers or sisters to burst in on her. Then again, she did have a horny ex-boyfriend in the house. I crept inside. Big bathroom. Smelled like her. She was washing her hair. Strawberries. Hot damn! Getting harder by the second. I tried to deny my good southern friend the satisfaction, but if I didn’t rub it a little, I was surely going to double over in pain soon.

I could see her silhouette through the glass. You know the type. The glass that’s all cloudy and textured. She looked so damned sexy. Her back was to me, and I can’t tell you how badly I wanted to open the shower door and let me hands go wild over her curves. Her breasts, her arms, sides, stomach, legs, thighs, ass, and especially my safe haven.

I heard her mutter something. I got closer to the glass, but hid by the toilet, which I imagine would be out of her sight if she did decide to turn around. The walls of the bathroom were dark anyway, she wouldn’t spot me very easily even if she tried.

“Oh God. I know I asked to have him back a million and one times, but I never imagined it would be this hard to keep things simple.” She hit the shower wall with her fist. She was just as horny as I was. She reached up and detached the showerhead, then brought it down between her legs. Moaning. She was moaning. My name. She was actually getting herself off to the thought of me. I couldn’t hold back.

I stripped out of my clothes so quickly, you just wouldn’t believe. Seconds. At least less than thirty. Then I slid the shower door open slowly, she didn’t hear me. Good. I took a moment to just look at her. And I knew that some part of her realized I was behind her. But I bet she was silently trying to convincer herself that it was her own overactive imagination, the cool draft sweeping in the open door, the hot steam escaping the same way. She had to have known! But she kept pleasing herself. Rubbing herself. The stream of water spraying her. I was hared than ever.

I reached out and touched her, just the small of her back, and then lower, and then up again. And as I stepped inside, sliding the door closed as I got all the way in, I moved my hand toward her front and felt her breasts. Bigger than before. Heavier. She was a mother, alright. She turned around, not the least bit offended, and she embraced me. I took the showerhead from her hand and put it back into its place so that the hot water rained over us both.

There was something about holding her that way, naked, pure. She was so soft. So delicate. The female form is so intriguing to me. What’s even more alluring is how well a man’s body fits against a woman’s. My intentions were not to have sex with her. My intentions were not to play with her as though she was some exotic living doll, or to fondle her as though fingering her was all I missed. All I wanted to do was hold her. So intimately. To feel her so close to me was enough to soothe my southern state. Why? Let’s just say it was gently nuzzled in her safe haven. Like I said, men and women fit so nicely together.

I kissed her hair, her forehead, her eyes, her ears, her nose, lips, chin, and neck. I got down on my knees and kissed her nipples, her chest, her stomach, her navel, the tender areas between her legs where he thighs met her hips, my oh-so-sweet safe haven... and well, I stayed there for a little while. She was so sensitive there. The most tender kiss would send her to Venus and back. I didn’t touch her, I only kissed her there. Butterfly kisses. And I could have stayed on my knees in that shower kissing her there for the rest of my life had she not pulled me up.

“Carry me to bed,” she whispered. I turned the water off and immediately picked her up and carried her to the guest room. As I put her down, very gently, onto the bed, I tried to keep a stable head. I didn’t want to let things get out of hand. I had no protection. And I seriously doubted that she had any. And then, I remembered the guy who picked her up. They guy she kissed. Who was he? I hated to ruin the moment, but I had to ask. She was pulling me down on the bed, on top of her glistening body, when I broke the silence.

“Who was that guy who picked you up from work today?” She rolled her eyes and tried to wave it off, but I persisted and asked.

“He’s just a good friend of mine, but let’s not dwell on that, ok?”

“A boyfriend?” I asked, just as she was pulling me towards her again, trying to hold me in place with her gorgeous legs.

“Something like that, but it’s nothing serious, not like it is with us.” Her words sounded so beautiful. Her scent, the heat emanating from her body and enveloping me so very tenderly. It was hard for me to resist her. I wanted to apologize to her a million times, and kiss her after every single apology until every inch of her being knew how sorry I was. I loved her so much. She was my heart. A part of me. My other half.

Still, no matter how very alluring she was, I could not ignore that kiss she shared with that guy. Her lips belongs to me, just as mine were hers. And it just didn’t seem right to have her dating someone else. No, not at all. Not my Monica. My precious, sacred flower.

“You are so full of bull shit! My God, I can’t even believe I’m lying here with you. I’ve got to be out of my MIND! God!” She got out of bed and headed back out of the room, still naked. It made me think of how in movies, people always wrap sheets around their bodies when they’re nude. Real people don’t do that all that often. I mean, if you’re sleeping with someone, why hide under sheets around them. It’s kind of silly. I’m glad Monica’s not like that. She knows I know her body as if it were my own. She felt free to walk around me naked. And hell, I liked it to. No complaints here!

But I digress.

She went into the bathroom to get her robe. She was about to go into her own room, where little Xander was sleeping, but I pulled her back into the bedroom with me.

“This is not over. What do you mean I’m full of bull shit?” I asked. She shut the door so that our arguing didn’t disturb the baby. Then she gave me this look, and if looks could kill, I’d have been slashed open like one of those hookers Jack the Ripper went to work on. And that’s no lie.

“You’re full of shit because all I did was kiss the guy a few times. He likes me. And I admit, I like him. Even now, I’m fond of him. But no, I could never love him the way I love you. My world revolved around you. But in times like these, I think it shouldn’t. Because I know you, Alexander James McLean. I know who you are, what you’re made up of, what you like, and where you’re coming from. And I know, as sure as I know that my name is Monica, that you have slept with at least three skanks that you didn’t care for me since I moved. And if I’m lying, may God strike my ass down right now! Even if my assumptions prove false, may the same punishment take effect.” She paused for a moment, looking up, stretching out her arms in acceptance of God’s wrath.

“Well, what do we have here? I’m still standing. Must mean I’m telling the truth. I hate that you govern your life with double standards. It’s cool for you to screw every Mary, Jane, or Alice you meet on the street. But if I so much as look at a guy too long, I’m being unfaithful to my heart! Bull shit! Fuck you! Take your ass back to Orlando and act this way, because I’ll be damned if you I’ll let you come HERE and stress me out. I was already depressed enough with you so many miles away.” She began to break down. “I don’t need this, ok?”

She was in complete tears now. I had never heard her curse so much in my entire life. I liked it. I liked her calling me on my bullshit. Though it shocked me, it was ice to be in love with a girl who knew me well and could stand up to me and tell me just where I could go. God, I loved her!

But the sad fact was, she was right. All too right. I had slept with a few girls since she left. And none of them meant much to me. She was the only one, and she knew it. Yet I ignored my love for her in place of a few nights of carnal satisfaction. I’m a loser, I know.

“Ok, Monica, I’m sorry. You’re right. I know what you’re saying is true. If he’s just a guy you kinda like, then I believe you, and I won’t get jealous. But face it, sweetie, it hurts to see your lips touching another man’s. Not so much because I’m envious, but more because I know he’s NOT giving you that feeling of fireworks that I give you when we kiss. And I know I give you that feeling, because I get it from you as well.”

I took her into my arms and kissed her. And sure enough, fireworks. Magic.

I led her back to the bed, and though I had no intention of making love to her, I just needed to be reminded of how sweet it was to lie with her. To have her in my arms and know that all could be right in the world, if only for a moment, as long as she was by my side.


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