CH. 24: HEATHER
Heather flips through her phone’s calendar, trying her best to remember the last time she bled, unsure if she’s late due to stress or if she could actually be pregnant. A part of her doesn’t want to know. She can’t face the terrible possibility of Chris being the father. They did have unprotected sex after all, a fact Heather wishes she could forget. The upside is Andrew has been inseminating her every night since they’d reconciled, his sexual appetite insatiable. It would be difficult for him to argue against the strong likelihood of siring an heir, so long as the truth of her actions never comes out.
Maybe Andrew would love her if she bears his fruit, maybe he loves her now. She could only hope.
“Does Tammy know what we did?” She paces from the kitchen to the bathroom, stopping to examine her eyebrows in the mirror.
“You keep asking me that,” Chris responds, his tone tinged with a flamboyant whine. “Is that the only reason you called?”
“I’m just making sure.” She moves closer to the mirror for a closer inspection. I definitely over plucked the left one.
He exhales into the phone. “Can I see you again? Just one last time and I promise I’ll leave you alone,” he says.
She bites the nail of her right index finger, walking into the kitchen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answers. His tiny prick doesn’t hold a light to Andrew’s candle, she thinks. Despite loving the attention from multiple men, she didn’t want to risk being caught with him. She’d gotten away with murder in her own mind, no sense in going back to the scene of the crime.
“Come on, I miss those big juicy tits. Send me a pic at least.”
Andrew’s loud exhaust alerts her to his arrival, and her heart takes flight, slamming into her breastbone as if it wants to escape. “I have to go, just worry about fixing your relationship. Bye.”
“Awe, don’t do me like that.
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“Chris texted me again,” she says coolly over dinner.
“Again, huh?” He sneers. “Maybe he should grow a pair.”
Heather brings a glass of water to her lips.
“He lets that imp walk all over him, you know. It’s pathetic.”
She nods, setting her glass onto the table. She exhales. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” she says carefully, biting her lip.
Andrew’s eyes narrow. “Don’t,” he warns.
She presses her lips together before forging forward with the question anyway. “Did you two…”
“Have sex?” he finishes. “That depends on your answer.”
“Can you just tell me. It won’t change anything, it’s done with.”
“Fine, yeah,” he says plainly. “I fucked her in the shower after she invited herself in.” He takes a gulp of water.
She stares at him for a long moment. She hadn’t anticipated his answer. “What was it like?”
He shakes his head. “Boring. Loose.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. She stares at her glass of water.
He glares at her. “How about you, you gonna come clean and tell me about you and Chris?”
“I’ve been honest with you. Nothing happened.”
“No. He tried, but I wouldn’t.”
“Tammy says otherwise.
“Tammy’s a gross slut who probably only said it so you’d fuck her.”
He scratches at the corner of his lip. “Did you rinse your ass out today?” He sounds aggravated.
“I didn’t have time.”
“You know how important anal is to me.”
“Yes, I know.” She looks at her hands and picks at a hang nail.
“It’s the main reason why I’m still with you. It isn’t easy to get these stupid bitches to bend over for me. Not even the pathetic psychos who come to me for their mental problems.”
Heather swallows. “I have something I should probably mention.”
“It better be an apology.”
She presses her lips together.
Without letting her speak, Andrew says, “So my client today, that girl. The tiny petite red head I was telling you about that comes to me because she can’t stop obsessing over her ex. Well, I found out she shaves her cunt completely bald. I asked her why and she said her ex used to request it, so she continues to do it just in case he comes back. I guess he’s attracted to much younger girls, apparently 23 is too old for him.”
Heather’s upper lip curls. She stares at her plate, no longer hungry.
He snickers. “Yeah, I raised an eyebrow at first, too, but after she showed me, I can see the appeal.”
Heather closes her eyes, refusing to emotionally react to his confession of blatant misconduct. Instead she says, “Can’t you lose your license for doing something like that?”
He stares at her, appearing unimpressed with her response. “You’re very disrespectful,” he says. “Besides, all I did was look. There’s nothing wrong with looking at something someone shows you. Who are you to talk about my work anyway? You sit around on your fat ass all day making… making…” He holds his hands over his plate. “Shepard’s fucking pie.” He aggressively stirs the potatoes and corn together with his fork. “Probably the worst food combination in existence of man.”
“I’m late,” Heather blurts. Her body tenses as she waits for his response.
“Why are you telling me that?” he says finally.
“Well, because I might be pregnant.” she says, meeting his eyes.
He stands abruptly, making his way toward the fridge. He twists off the cap to a bottle of Blue Moon and glares at her.
She inhales. “You might be a dad.”
“I’m already a father. It isn’t mine. Abort it.”
Heather’s throat goes dry. “You don’t know that,” she says, her voice wobbling.
“I do know that,” he snaps. “I already have a child. I don’t need another one, besides, I know you fucked Chris.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, her eyes burning.
“Oh, yes you did,” he says, his glare boring into her. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I know you did, just admit it.”
Her eyes fill with water and her chin quivers. She shakes her head, unwilling to admit the truth.
“That’s right, CRY!” He brings both hands up to his eyes, the beer bottle still clutched in his right hand. He sticks his bottom lip out as he mock rubs his eyes, making whimpering noises at her. “Crying because you’re not as clever as you think you are!” He picks up his plate and throws it at the wall. Potatoes, corn, and overcooked ground beef explode all over the kitchen. “That’s all you fucking women know how to do is cry—Why do you think Chris keeps texting you? He admitted it to her. Told her everything. Now she wants me back” He laughs. “But I told her that you and I were engaged. She lost her chance.”
“What?” she asks, dumbfounded.
“Get an abortion,” he says sternly. “That’s not a request.” He takes a long sip of his beer and then dumps the rest out over her head. “I won’t raise another man’s child.” He drops the beer bottle onto the floor. It rolls until it hits the stove.
Heather is frozen in her chair, her hair dripping with beer. She begins to convulse, her shoulders shaking back and forth.
“You’d like to marry me, wouldn’t you? It’s a dream of yours, isn’t it?”
It takes everything in her not to wail. She can barely keep her own mouth closed.
“Well, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes,” she stammers, sucking in a mouthful of air. She sniffles loudly, her whole body jolting back and forth.
“Well get rid of that fucking monster in your twat and you can have it all.” He spreads his arms out. “You should count yourself lucky I even took you back after you had another man’s cock in that fuck hole of yours. And I kept you around even after you lied to me and continued to do so.” He sneers. “Now go clean yourself up, you stink.”
Heather stares at herself in the mirror, her face red and splotchy, her eyes bloodshot and wet. She hates the spineless amoeba she’s become. She’s not the same person she once was, she’s been changed. Altered by circumstance. She could have been more than this, but Rachel ruined everything.
She bares her teeth, wanting nothing more than to smash her reflection into shards. She pulls the mirror forward, snatching a bottle off the middle shelf. She dumps a small pile of aspirin into her palm, and without counting slams them into her mouth. She hunches over the sink, bringing her lips to the faucet and sucks in cold water. How many pills were there? Six? Seven? Not enough to die. But maybe just enough to quell the incessant throbbing behind her ears.
As usual, Andrew doesn’t care how she feels or what she’s going through. He’s only concerned with himself and getting his dick wet. She shutters, remembering his comment at the table about his patient. What kind of a person thinks that’s an appropriate thing to share, let alone do?
Heather strips away her clothing and steps into the steaming shower. If he would just stop talking to Rachel then he wouldn’t be so against me having his child, too, she thinks. It’s such a waste of time and resources. Her jaw clenches. Thinking about her always dredges up anger and resentment. She shakes with rage as she slides to the tub floor, hot water spraying over her. She balls strands of her hair into two fists and yanks down, teeth gritting together so hard she thinks they might shatter. Red hot anger and hatred seethes through her body.
She doesn’t want an abortion, she wants a child. At one time the only thing she ever wanted was to marry Andrew, but not anymore. Not after this. How could she ever forgive him for this?
She holds back her cries, unsure if she should stay with him. He can’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Her chin wobbles as she imagines packing her clothes and fleeing with her potential embryo, just like Rachel had done. She shakes her head. No, I have to be strong. If I walk away, Rachel and Tammy win.