Bad Boy Judah

t h i r t y s i x

                   

I keep my eyes on Christ on the wooden cross.

The worst feeling never leaves me. My shoulders tremble, and my eyes sting. I've cried...

What did I do to deserve this? Really. What did I do so wrong?

On my aching knees, I tighten my clasped hands together. Tears run their course down my face.

The brightly coloured stain-glass shine reproachful faces of saints. Candles around the white altar illuminate the empty catholic church.

I pray.

"God," I breathe, "I've been selfish... I've made bad decisions—just because I wanted to feel love... with Judah..."

My words get stuck in my throat, and the thought of Judah gets me choked up. I open my mouth, trying my best to inhale and exhale. I ramble to stay sane.

"He doesn't believe in you, but please protect him anyway," I say, wiping my leaky nose. I pray harder, but whisper. "And his baby..."

I stay in my silence. Yeah, Rosalie. It's his baby you're carrying. It wouldn't be right to keep him in the dark. I argue with myself in my head. The baby would never be safe if you stayed with Judah. Forget it, Rosalie. You've been away from him—and your life was still threatened.

I can't remember the last time I stepped inside of a church. Though, I do feel better—like I can focus.

My round belly makes getting into my seat a bit of a struggle. I sit in the pew and open my eyes. No one is here. 

I fetch my phone from my pocket. I'm sure Mara is wondering where I am. I send her a short text that I'm fine and that I'm sitting in a small church. It was the first thing I could think of doing after the boss drove away in his car.

What am I supposed to do now? I wish God would give me a sign, give me a solution.

One thing I definitely need to do is take a long bath. The stench of cigar smoke lingers in my hair. But I stay for another hour or so. My mind organizes its thoughts about the future.

Yes, I've made mistakes. But gummy bear is innocent and deserves the best in life. I don't know if I could be a good mother—and a single mother at that. 

Somehow, my hands find their way to my round stomach. Inevitably for me, I'm too attached. Thinking about giving up the baby hurts. But maybe that's what needs to happen. I don't know. I need strength.

"Despite everything..." I sigh, "If nothing else... Please, just please, protect our baby."

♠♠♠

"I got a call back! I got the airport clerk job!" Mara greets me with smiles.

Happy for her, I say, "That's awesome!"

We sit in the chair and nibble on trail mix, watching TV. Under the right side of my ribcage throbs with pain. I press my palm to it, hoping that a quick massage would help.

"It pays much better. They said I should start tomorrow," Mara waves her hand.

"I'm sure you'll do super well," I add, "So what's the bad news?"

She pauses and her eyes shift to the side, forcing a nervous smile.

"Well, um, you know," she starts. I wait, getting nervous myself. "You know how, um, those bad guys took you—and, like, you didn't come back until now."

"Yeah."

"You were gone with them, so I worried—you know, as a best friend should," she nods her head at me.