Dear Flick

Day Three

2004

Flick was always the reason I woke up with sore haunches.

Dear Flick,

I'm pregnant, but I can't do this.
I will be at the clinic in the morning to get the abortion. I wish I could tell you, but I know I can't. Neither of us are ready. If you ever find this, please don't think wrongly of me.
I'll be back before you are awake.

I am so, so sorry,
Macey Arlo Dias

"I didn't know this would actually happen!" Flick's laugh nearly echoed through the room; it was loud, nearly music to my ears. "I'm sorry, mon bébé."

Of all the times Flick and I made love, which admittedly was a lot, it was only on rare occasions that he was rough enough to make me ache this way the morning after. I could barely move my legs. "You need to be more careful, Flick. My legs feel like jelly right now." I looked down at them; my bones felt brittle (though I knew they weren't) and green bruises painted up my hips.

"You need a Tylenol?" Flick started, rolling off of the thick cotton sheets. He pulled on his green and worn boxers and began to make his way towards the bathroom--the medicine cabinet.

"No!" I howled, "Please don't. You know how I feel about..."

I paused.

"Pills, yeah." Flick breathed.

Dear Flick,

Life is so difficult. Can't it just end?
Today we skipped dinner. There was no food in the fridge besides six grapes. You gave me those grapes, said I could eat them and no matter how hard I tried, you wouldn't let me share! You're such a hard-head. I don't see how we're supposed to make it by on your gas-station money and my waitressing tips. Promise everything will get better someday?

Love you for always,
Miss Macey Arlo

It was actually pretty often that Flick had forgotten about the pill problem that ravaged and sabotaged my past, and to a degree, my present; if I were to be unlucky, even my future. "Don't," I shook my head, thick and clear tears pooling in my eyes. "Don't mention those damned pills again."

Flick rushed to my side and wrapped his gaunt arms around me, rocking me back and forth, his nose buried in my thick hair. It was unequivocal that Flick loved me, but Flick could not save me from my past. I could not even save myself from the person I used to be. It was in moments such as this that I realized just how haggard Flick was; so careworn and washed for a boy his age.

"Magdalena," Flick began, gunmetal eyes slowly becoming devoid of any vibrance they once possessed. I knew it was serious, because he used my first name.
"Do you remember when we had that talk, and you told me you would love me no matter what?" He inquired, thin and strong fingers finding their way below my chin and onto my cheek. "Do you still believe that?"

"Yes." I answered slowly and leaned close to him, so close our foreheads touched and I could feel his breath on my lips. "I want you to always trust me. Nothing will change the way I feel about you, Thomas Flick Beauchamp. Nothing."

"Good," Flick nodded, "because I have something important I need to tell you."

Dear Flick,

Happy one year anniversary of being drug free! I knew you had it in you. Baby, it's a big, big world. There's so much in store for you and for the two of us as a couple.

PS- I made your favorite pralines!

Your lady (and only yours),
Mrs. Macey Arlo Beauchamp