Black Lace

Thirty-Two

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

"Blake, open up!" I yell, banging on his front door. "I need to talk to you!" I keep knocking on the door until he finally comes to answer the door. He looks like he has just woken up, hair all over the place, t-shirt inside out. He rubs his eyes and yawns. "Blake." I push past him and into the house.

"Well, come on in." His voice is sarcastic, and I roll my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"It's almost four," I say, turning around to face him with my hands on my waist. "Why are you still in bed?" He doesn't answer me. "Have you heard from Emily?"

He shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. "No, why?"

I throw my keys on the kitchen table and sit down, covering my face with my hands. It takes me a minute before I'm finally able to look up, where Blake is giving me a questionable look. A small smile reaches the corners of my lips, but it's not a happy smile. It's a sad one, and I have a feeling I'm about to break his heart with what I'm going to tell him.

He waits, and I try to figure out the best way to say this without sounding harsh, but there really is no good way to say it. With a long, deep, breath, I let it out before blurting, "She isn't pregnant anymore."

Blake blinks, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. He probably doesn't know what to say, and I don't blame him, because I sure as hell didn't when Emily called me earlier. Finally, after what seems like forever, he laughs and shakes his head. Turning his back on me, he walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. He chills his alcohol? I've never thought.

He still doesn't say anything, and neither do I. What is there to say? I'm almost tempted to drink with him, but that didn't turn out so well for me last time. Yeah, I definitely don't need to be drinking.

"Did she seem depressed? When you talked to her?" He still doesn't look at him, but from the sound of his voice breaking, I can tell he's on the verge of crying. He swallows a big gulp of his alcohol, making a little sound at the back of his throat. "Did she?"

"Blake." I stand up and walk over to him, putting my hand on his shoulder. He flinches at my touch, but he doesn't shake my hand off him. I sigh. Am I doing the right thing by telling him this? Yes, of course I am. He deserves to know because it's his baby he lost, and I doubt Emily is going to tell him if she hasn't called him yet. "I, she didn't seem heartbroken by it. She seemed relieved."

"Relieved?" He chokes on his voice. "What do you mean relieved?"

"When she miscarried, I think she may have done it intentional. Like she did something bad to cause her to lose the baby."

There's no time to react. Blake throws the whiskey bottle against the wall, broken shards of glass flying everywhere. I gasp, dropping my hand from his shoulder, and take a step back. Blake is shaking, and I'm starting to wonder if I should not have opened my mouth.

Blake storms out of the room, slamming the door to his room shut. A few pictures rattle on the wall, but thankfully none of them fall. By this time I'm crying again, wiping away a few tears, as I go to clean up some of the broken glass. I'm extra careful so that I don't cut myself, sweeping up the remaining pieces and throwing them in the trash. Blake doesn't come back downstairs, but I don't go check on him either. He needs time by himself, to think about everything I just said. His music is blaring from his speakers, the bass so loud I can feel it vibrate all the way down here. It wouldn't surprise me if his neighbors heard it, too.

Almost instantly, I feel another anger towards my best friend. I don't want to say she had the miscarriage on purpose, but the way she was talking on the phone, the way she hung up on me when I asked her if she wasn't upset about it, tells me that she did do it on purpose. And eventually, she'll have to come clean. I love her and Blake most, they're pretty much my only friends, but I cannot, will not, stand by Emily in this matter. She better hope it was an accident.