I'm Here to Fix You

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Chapter 53



“It’s that simple.” She smiled, clasping her hands together over the desk.

“That simple my ass.” I scoffed.

“Jake.” Silvia sent me a dirty look.

“What? I paid for a service that was not delivered! I should sue the fucking condom factory!”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the doctor, who gave out a short laugh. “I see you haven’t digested it yet ... it’s alright, Mr. Watson, many men have the same reaction as you.”

“Oh, I sincerely doubt it.” Silvia scoffed, feigning a huge sigh. “There aren’t many men like him.”

“Yes, I can easily guess that ...” Dr. Stuart checked me out from tip to toe for a long moment, which didn’t escape Silvia’s eyes, and which obviously gained me a kick to my ankle. As if it were my fault that the doctor is in heat. That’s the problem with having a jealous girlfriend and a womanizer past: every woman that flirts, it’s not her fault, it’s mine. Even if I don’t give her the slightest hint, it’s always my fault, and I get told off for being, well, me.

“Either way.” Silvia said loud enough to distract the woman. “We’ve made up our minds.”

She turned to my girlfriend, a little flustered, as if suddenly recalling she was here to do her job. “So you’re definitely sure?”

“Believe me, doctor,” I scoffed, “I’m the last man on this Earth that should ever become father.”

“Yes, but-”

“You can pretend you said all the stuff you want to, your conscience is alright. We’ve made up our minds.” Silvia doesn’t want it. Nor do I. So ... that’s the only way. Also because she won’t go through with abortion. Something about ... strands of her Catholic heritage, whatever that means.

It’s fair, though. Technically speaking, as the doctor explained, given that Silvia is at the 16th week, the embryo has already become a fetus, with ... almost all its part, so it is indeed a baby. Abortion is still possible, but neither of us could bear it. Let’s be honest, we’ve both seen more death than any human could bear, so neither of us can stomach this, be it even a fetus. I agree with her.

Okay, maybe it took us weeks to come to terms with it. And maybe I did freak out, just a little ... but in the end we made up our minds. We’re not keeping the baby, but neither will we abort it.

So, well, it’s adoption. The doctor was just about telling us about this good agency she knows. It’s obvious that even though we won’t keep it, we’re still doing the whole routine, visits and all that, but finally Dr. Stuart gave us the best answer. We’d been seeking adoption agencies, but none of those suited us.

In the end, Dr. Stuart inhaled deeply, and her shoulders deflated, as if she felt relieved. “Okay then. I can put you in touch with this agency. We often cooperate, so it would be me anyways to follow you throughout the pregnancy up until birth, Silvia.”


Needless to say we both heaved a huge sigh of relief the exact moment we left the clinic. I know it seems unfair and not very romantic, but ... we don’t want kids. Neither of us does, so ...

“Well, that’s one problem less.” I voiced my thoughts while we walked to my car. Silvia seemed pensive, though. “Baby?” Uh. I should probably change pet name for her, at least for the next 7 months and beyond.

“Yes. I ...” She pulled off a not very convincing smile. “You’re right. It’s ... one problem less to think about.”

Mmh. She didn’t sound too sure of it. I followed her into the car, and we both fastened our seatbelts, but I didn’t switch on the engine, and the fact that she didn’t notice told me her mind was elsewhere. I reached out for her hand, and squeezed it. “You can still change your mind, we’ve barely started, there’s a lot of time to think.”

“What?” She snapped her head to me, surprised. “Oh!” She slipped her hand out of mine. “No ... no, it’s not ... I’m not thinking about the baby and all that.”


“No, I ...” She shook her head, faking a carefree smile. “Never mind. We should go, or we’ll be late for work.” I didn’t move. “I know you’re the boss and whatever, but I can’t be late, so ... chop, chop.”

“Mmh ... you’re lying, yet not entirely.” I pointed out. It’s not easy to detect her lies, but you know I’m a good stalker. Also, spending so much time with her, I’ve learnt to tell her every expression.

“If you must know, I am worried, but it’s not about the baby.”


“No ... we’re sorting that out.”

“Then what is it?”

Silvia sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She clearly wanted me to tell so badly, but for some reason couldn’t. “It’s nothing too serious, but ... it makes me nervous, I won’t deny it.”

“Ok, but what is it?” Maybe I was snappier than I wanted to be, but I was getting impatient.

My girlfriend sent me a dirty look. “I wouldn’t tell you precisely because of that tone you just used, but ... I don’t have the patience to argue about your manners.”

“Just spill the beans, woman.” We’re an incredibly old couple for having been in this for barely 8 months. Wait, hey! We’ve lasted 8 months. Wow. I would have never seen that coming. Now we need one more to beat her and Sir Douche, then I can claim to be her longest relationship.

It’s odd, really. I thought it would be worse. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s tiring as fuck and unnerving, she’s impossible most of the time, but ... we’re good. Aside from all the drama, we’re good. If we could delete all the things that make us uncommon, we would be great.

If only there was no dark past looming over our heads, no issues whatsoever, no jealousy troubles, no therapy needed ... it’s a lot of stress, which also makes me worry about this pregnancy, but I suppose we can make it. We’re made of steel. If only the condom had been made of steel, too ...

In my defense, it was the plastic’s fault. I thought 97% certainty was a sure number. Also, she takes birth control, she does everything that is needed, including things I honestly don’t understand and that involve putting things into my favorite place on Earth. Seriously, I’ve never had such safe sex as with Silvia. So I gotta think, this pregnancy might be the result of some bully up there having a pretty fucked up sense of humor.

Then again, it might be that, as the doctor said, since Silvia “fell ill” a few weeks ago (euphemism for, I nearly killed her in my sleep so she needed pills of different sorts), she took other medications that might have interfered with contraceptives, so she had to give up on the latter ones for a while. We were left with condoms and birth control, so ... there’s your result.


“Huh?” Uh. I spaced out again. I blame my cousin Natalie, she’s definitely infecting me with her scattered mind syndrome. Then again, I can’t really blame her. I understand the need to diversify thoughts all too well, and given her situation, she barely needs it. In a few months she should be able to move out of my place, but I don’t wanna rush her.

Silvia groaned, frustrated. “Never mind. Just drive.”



“You didn’t tell Jake, did you?”

“Well ... no.” I sighed, attacking my cotoletta. I don’t know if it has to do with the pregnancy, but, these days I can’t stomach anything that isn’t properly Italian. Good thing I can cook.

“And when will you?” Tess wiggled her eyebrows at me, though ever so happy of this Italian food spree I’m having these weeks. Right now she was delightedly devouring the lasagna I made but couldn’t stomach. Stupid nausea.

“Well ... must I?” I bit my lip. “I mean ... it’s not necessary. It was just a small assumption, nothing to worry about yet.”

“Sure no ... after all, this is just a random guy we’re talking about, right? Not your boyfriend, the sickly in love guy that is scared shitless of losing you at every breath you take.” Tess scoffed sarcastically. “Let’s not tell him the doctor warned you that the pregnancy might put your injured bones to too hard of a test, and that you might be developing a mortal disease. Just how bad can that be?”

“Tess ...” I sighed, rubbing my belly after having finished the cotoletta. Man, I’m hungry. But anything I cook then winds up either in the dustbin or on Tess’ hips, since I just can’t eat it. And my stomach cannot stand anything that is, a) properly cooked; b) cooked following an Italian recipe. It’s like my stomach, or rather, this baby, is the patriot I’ve never been.

“He has every right to know.” My best friend scolded me.

“I know, but ... with everything that’s going on ...” And the fact that this ... weakness in my body might or might have not been partly caused by the injuries Jake himself caused me in his sleep ... I can’t tell him that his nightmares are what bruises my skin every night, I can’t tell him that the one time he found me unconscious wasn’t the only one I got badly hurt. It would kill him.

These weeks he’s tried anything, anything not to hurt me in his sleep, including cuffing himself to the bed, sleeping in the bathtub, seizing me in his arms once I’m asleep, and carrying me to the guest room or simply sneaking out of the bed to go sleep in the guestroom on his own. He tries everything, and I shamelessly lie to his face every morning when I say nothing happened, I’m perfectly fine, but ... I’m not. Or not really.

Every fiber of my rational being would want me to pick the easy way: just not sleep with him. Jake wants that, says it’s alright, he can just cuddle me until I fall asleep, and then he leaves. But I don’t want that. Not because I need to wake up to his face, but because it’s exactly my presence that soothes his nightmares, and it’s exactly his presence that soothes mine.

We’re like, each other’s demon slayers. My nightmares have started fading only when I started sleeping with Jake. It’s obvious that it has a lot to do with the fact that I finally unburdened myself, and began to let go somehow, but a huge part of my better circumstances is due to the fact that I have him. That every time I fall asleep, I have the certainty that Jake is there beside me, and if only my old demons try to come wreck me, he’ll pull out his sword and defy them on my behalf, for I can fight when I’m awake, but being asleep means that all your defenses are lowered, and you’re ever so easy to attack.

And the same, more or less, goes for him. He’s gotten a lot better, we just need to work on his nightmares. How do you think I get bruised every night? It’s because the moment he begins tossing and turning, I try my best to soothe him, remind him he’s not alone, I’m right there with him, and I’ll protect him.

You see, the amazing thing about our love, is that it nurtures on equilibrium. It’s not about me abandoning myself to him, him being weighed down by my problems as well as his, no. It’s the both of us taking a share of each other’s problems, to lift it off one’s shoulders, and make things easier. It’s about Jake making me feel protected and cherished every time he embraces me. It’s about me making him feel protected and cherished every time he lowers his guard.

A man like him, he doesn’t feel able to let his guard down even for a moment, but with me, he does, because he knows I’m right there. If he’ll defy my demons on my behalf, I’ll defy his demons on his behalf. It’s the tight connection of our souls more than just our hearts, it’s the fact that our lives have entwined for a reason.

Don’t tell him I said all this mushy shit, or I’ll never see the end of it. Shhh.

“Sissy, I get your moral dilemmas, but you should consider the big A.” Tess broke through my lovesick thoughts. “Let’s be honest, possible health problems for the mother are the main reason to get an abortion ...”

“Don’t call me that ...” I grimaced, suddenly no more hungry.


"Mother ... don’t ... don’t call me mother.” I heaved a deep sigh. How I hate these mood swings. “I’m not the mother, I’m just ... a means to an end. The ... vehicle this baby will use to get into this world. No more than that.”

“Sissy ...” Tess reached out for my hand, gripping it. “You know you don’t have to go through with this. One side or the other.”

“You know we do.”

“Why? I mean, it’s not like you guys are clumsy teenagers that just got bad luck.” She said. “You’re both responsible adults ... well, maybe you more than your baby daddy, but you get what I mean. Also, Jake is as rich as Croesus, you have your own savings, so the kid won’t have money issues.”

“It’s not about money ...”

“Then what?”

Eh. What? That we’re two fucked up people that still haven’t come around their own path towards full recovery. We have issues, problems we haven’t solved yet, or not entirely. We’re the worst choice ever for parents, Jake is right. Well, he says he would be a shitty father, I would be a good mother, but I bet he only says that to make me feel better.

“It’s ... a whole mix of things.”

“Even so. You-”

“We’ve made up our minds, Tess. No going back.” I spat, tired of the topic. “Now, the point is ... how do I tell Jake that his uncle has asked to meet me for lunch tomorrow?”

My best friend shot daggers at me, placing the fork down once she was done with the lasagna. “Sure, don’t tell him you might die while giving birth to the child neither of you wants, but do tell him that jerk that is his uncle wants to bribe you into breaking up with his nephew.” She spat. “You need to sort out your priorities, woman.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know that ... he just wants to meet his nephew’s girlfriend.” I made the mistake of answering Jake’s phone while he was under the shower, so I got caught up in this stupid meeting with the one man that should be closest to a father-in-law for me. Jake may complain all he wants that they don’t get along and whatever, but the truth is, Keith Watson is, in a way, his adoptive father. The man did legally adopt him when he was a kid, after all.

“Sissy ...” Tess sighed.

“Tess, it’s early to say. Dr. Stuart merely said my blood pressure was a little odd. She can’t tell yet, preeclampsia can only be diagnosed by the 20th week of pregnancy, so ... no need to fuss just yet.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s just focus on Keith Watson, shall we? If he’s anything like his nephew says, I shall go to this lunch armed to my teeth with patience and determination.”

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