"Serita Stevens - The Unborn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stevens Serita)

THE UNBORN
By
Serita Stevens

Watery warmth surrounded me as I wriggled my toes, my fingers, and allowed my eye lids to flutter open. The gentle motion of the rocking chair combined with the vibratory hum of my mother's singing lulled me into a peaceful mood. I didn't even feel like kicking today.

I think my first awareness was of mother -- of her heartbeat, her humming, and her happiness. I was glad to be a part of her. But the blissful existence didn't last long. I was in my sixth month of uterine life when Eddie stormed into our presence. Even before he yelled, I sensed the anger and heard the heaviness of his footsteps thumping on the wooden floor.

"You whore! Why the hell didn't you tell me the baby wasn't mine!?" Mom jerked her body upright, forcing me into a sitting position. I could hear the shocked surprise in her voice.

"But it is yours, Eddie. I swear it. You're the only one I've slept with. The only one I love."

"Liar!"

He slapped us then. I cringed with the pain almost as much as she did. It didn't take me long to understand that Eddie was the creep who'd fathered me -- and that he wasn't too excited about my existence. But I knew Mom loved me. She'd told me so often and I believed her. I wanted to believe that everything would be okay for the two of us. The trouble was, she loved Eddie. I think it was because she'd been beaten by her father. Eddie moved in with us and nothing seemed the same after that.

Oh, sure, he could be nice. He'd take us to the park and buy us ice cream. But when he'd drink, he was horrid. He'd get to talking about his folks and how his mother had betrayed his father.

After he beat us, he'd always ask, "You okay, babe?"

Mom would nod and they'd make up. But I felt my tiny heart harden against him.

When she wasn't feeling well, he'd coddle her, but I never felt he really meant it. She would tell him she was okay and smile-- as if she believed him. I loved to feel her smile. She would rub her stomach. I yearned to have her hold me.

"The baby moved today. You want to touch?" Mom asked him one night.

"Can I?" Eddie asked.

He never bothered asking me so I didn't usually oblige him. Sometimes I'd kick -- but not often because that hurt Mom, too.

"Gonna be a football player that kid." Eddie bragged after one of my more vicious kicks. "Maybe he'll come out with a wrench in his hand."

"Eddie, please," Mom pleaded. "If anything, she'll come out with a book in her hand."

"No kid of mine's a patsy." His snarl startled me. "Sounds like you're trying to prepare me -- so I won't be suspicious, huh. I know damn well my kid's a boy."

He slapped us.

I winced feeling my mother's pain.

"Well who the hell was you with before me?"

Mom was crying.

"Eddie, I swear. It's you I love. The baby's yours. It can't be anyone else's."

"Yeah, well, you better believe I'm gonna make sure."

He stormed out of the house and stayed away for several days. It wasn't nice, but I hoped he'd drink himself to death and get out of our lives. Mom and me needed only each other.