Layla can destroy you and the things deep inside you. No one else had ever threatened his defenses, and there were times when he wanted to leave, never to see her again, but he couldn't. He needed her so much and he always struggled to keep her when he realized it.
But their arrangement might have allowed him to sleep with her every night and lose himself more and more in her warm, soft body. In bed he could kiss her and run his hands all over her, wrapped in her scent and touching her, to keep her close to him. In bed, she clung to him with indulgence, opening herself up to him whenever he wanted, her hands running over him with soft, daring caresses that made him wild. Once they were together in bed, it seemed like she never stopped touching him, and despite himself, he was infatuated with it. Sometimes all he could do was hold the groan in a strange, not quite physical ecstasy as she kissed, caressed, and cuddled.
However, with all that they had actually lived together for two years, the small distance he insisted remained, so necessary to him, that the limits of time, in fact, were not worth it. tell; now that he knew a little more about her than before, Layla didn't tell anyone the details of her past or present life, and he didn't ask, because it would almost make so the excuse for her to have a chance to ask about his past life, was something that even to him, he rarely allowed himself to think about.
He knew how old she was, where she was born, her social security number, her previous job, because it was all recorded in her personal file. He knew she was attentive, taking care of errands and enjoying a quiet life. She rarely drinks and has recently stopped drinking completely. She reads well, her interests are wide and varied in both fantasy and utopia.
He knew she liked the color pine and didn't like spicy food. But he didn't know if she had ever been in love, what had happened to her family, in the personnel file, no one was listed by her in the relative column, that she had been a cheerleader or is ever getting into the troubles of childish pranks. He didn't know why she moved to Danvers or what her dream was.
He only knew the external realities, that was what anyone could see, not her memories or her hopes.
Sometimes he feared that, because he knew so little about her, maybe one day she would hide from him. How would he predict, what she would do when he didn't know her thoughts, and only scolded himself. He had never asked her, never encouraged her to tell him about those parts of life. For the past two years, he'd lived in secret fear, afraid he'd lose her one day, but unable to do anything to stop it. He didn't know how to reach out to her, to hold her back.
Lust grew in him as he thought of her, felt her soft body pressed against his, and the man inside him tensed in response. If they didn't have another form of contact, at least they did, the sexual need virtually engulfing them together. He'd never coveted anything in a woman before but sex; it was bitterly ironic, now that he was using sex to at least make it seem like he was close to her. His heart beat faster as he began to caress her, easily waking her up and falling in love, and so he could easily get inside her and forget everything for a while but couldn't. Believe it or not, the pleasure of making love to her.
It was one of those sunny days, when the splendor was almost overwhelming, the air clear and warm of late April, a wonderful day, a mockery of a day, for she felt her heart like dying inside. She cooked breakfast and they ate it on the terrace, as they did when the weather was fine. She poured him another cup of coffee and sat down across from me, then put my arm around the chilled orange juice so it wouldn't shake.
“Kelvin,” she couldn't look at him, so she focused on the orange juice. She felt nauseous, but it was more of a symptom of fear than of pregnancy.
He had caught up with the local news and now he looked up at her over the top of the newspaper. She felt the center of his attention on her.
"I have to go." She said in a low voice.
His face was pale, and for a long minute he sat as if turned to stone, without even blinking. A slight breeze rustled the paper, and at last he moved, folding the paper slowly, as if each movement were labor. The time had come and he didn't know he could stand it, he could even speak. He looked at Layla's hair, at the way the sun was shining on the fence, the streaks of luster and knew he had to talk. This time, he at least wanted to know why.
So that was the question he asked, just one word, and it came out with a hoarse sound.
"Why?"
Layla cringed at his rough voice, “This has happened. I didn't anticipate it. It… It just happened.”
She was in love with someone else, he thought, struggling to hold his breath. He had trusted her completely, never even harboring the thought that she might meet other men during his absence, but he was clearly wrong.
“Did you leave me for another man?” he asked hoarsely.
Her head jerked, and she stared at him, stunned by the question. He turned to look at her, his eyes fiercer and bluer than she'd ever seen them before.
"No," she whispered. "That never."
“Then what?” he pushed himself away from the table and stood, his large body tensing with just enough anger to control.
She took a deep breath, "I'm pregnant."
For a moment, his expression did not change, then suddenly his face turned to stone, blank and solid. "What do you say?"
“I am pregnant, almost 4 months. It arrives around the end of September.”
He turned his back and walked to the high earth wall to look out over the city. His straight shoulders hardened with fury. “My God, I never thought you would do this.” He said, his voice hoarse with restraint. “You've been duped in every way, haven't you? You should know what to expect after the question I asked last night. Marriage would be more profitable than a claim of paternity, wouldn't it? But suffering is also a way to make a good profit.”
Layla stood up and quietly walked back into the room. Kelvin remained by the wall, hands clenched as he struggled to deal with both the blind fury and the cold lips of betrayal.
He was too tense to stand there long when he couldn't take it any longer, he followed her, determined to find the depth of his stupidity, even though it only deepened the pain.
It is like the way a tongue continuously probes a sore tooth, in search of pain. It didn't matter how, she tore him to pieces, he knew and then wouldn't get hurt; No one will do it to you again. He'd thought he wouldn't get hurt before, only with Layla who showed him the flaw in his emotional armor. But he'd been through this before, he'd be truly untouchable.
Layla sat calmly at her desk, writing on a piece of paper. He had expected her to be packing clothes, or doing something else, but she sat there writing in a hurry.
"What are you doing?"
She twitched slightly at his hoarse voice, but continued to write. Perhaps his eyes weren't adjusted to the dim light, but she looked pale and exhausted. He hoped that she could feel even a small part of what he was going through right now.
“I said, what are you doing?”
She signed her name at the bottom of the page, dated it, and gave it to him. “Here,” she said, using great effort to keep her voice calm. "Now you won't have to worry about a claim of paternity."
Kelvin took the paper and turned it around to read. He skimmed it once and then read it again with more attention and became skeptical.
It's short with a focal point. 'I swear, of my own free will, that Kelvin Mckenna is not the father of the child I bear. He has no legal responsibility to me or to the child.'
She got up and walked past him. “I'll pack up and go tonight.”
He stared at the page in his hand, almost stunned by the conflicting emotions that surged back and forth within him. He couldn't believe what she had done, or how she had done it by accident. With just a few words written on the piece of paper she prevented herself from accepting large sums of money, God willing, he would spend any amount, even bankruptcy if necessary, to make sure the child that child is taken care of, not like...
He began to shake, and sweat poured down his face. Anger welled up in him again. Holding the flyer tightly in his hand, he took long strides into the bedroom as she yanked the suitcases out of the closet.
"That's a diabolical lie." He said, and hurled the crumpled paper at her.
Layla flinched, but stood still with a calm demeanor. Privately, she was more surprised than she could be before she collapsed and began to sob.
“Of course it's a lie,” she managed as she laid the suitcases on the bed. “This baby is mine.”
She gave him a blank look, “Do you have some suspicions. I won't admit to betrayal, I'll try to give you some peace of mind."
"The Tranquility of the Mind." It seemed as if all his restraint had been broken. He shouted again, in the 3 years they had known each other, he had absolutely never raised his voice at her. “How the hell, I had some assumptions to get the peace of mind knowing that my baby, my child…”. He paused, unable to finish his sentence.
She began to empty her clothes into the open suitcase, arrange them neatly, and put each outfit in. “What is it like to know that your baby…?” She reminded.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and clenched them. “Are you prepared to do it?” he asked sporadically.
She stiffened, then looked straight at him. "What does it mean?"
“I thought you were planning to have an abortion?”
Now there was no warmth or softness in her brown eyes. "Why do you ask?" She asked bluntly.
“It is a reasonable question.”
He really had no idea, she thought numbly. How could he think with the idea that she could abandon his child if he had some far-fetched suggestion to every way she felt? All the love she showed during those long dark nights, it might have been good to hide all the attention he'd given him.
Maybe he had just accepted her passion as the way to keep a man, to keep a father, and the way to happiness.
But she didn't say a word about it, she just looked at him for a moment before suddenly declaring. "No, I don't have an abortion." Then go back to packing.
He moved suddenly with his hand, “So what? If you are going to have it, how are you going to prepare for it?”
She listened to him with growing disbelief. Has she lost her mind, or is he? How do you think she would do it? Various answers appeared to her, some obvious and some not so obvious. Was he expecting her to list the activities involved in caring for a child, or was he asking what her plans were? As usual, Kelvin's words were precise, always saying exactly what he thought, even more bewildered.
“What do you mean, what am I going to do with it? Is what its mother usually does. I think so." His face was hard and covered with sweat. "That's your baby." He said, striding forward to take her shoulders in both hands. "I'll do anything to stop you from throwing it out like a piece of trash."
