“What have I told you about that?” I say.
“To not to.”
“So don’t.”
Some nights I crash at Tar’s and don’t make it home. I don’t want him or my brother waiting all night for me to walk through the door.
“Night, Dar.”
“Night.”
Before I leave the kitchen, I leave him enough for his trip and a little extra in case there’s a gift shop or some shit.
In my room, I undress and collapse on the bed. I’m glad Amelia never came in here, it’s bad enough holding the memories I do have of her, without having them in here.
Throwing my arm over my eyes, I think over the shipment of coke coming in at the end of the week until I fall asleep, dreading my dreams.
11
Amelia
Six weeks.
Forty-two days.
That’s how long it’s been since the shooting and the last time I heard from Darius. Though I miss him, it helps he hasn’t answered a single call or returned a single text. The anger has kept me going. He’s the one who should have apologised by now, or at least checked up on me, but nothing.
Besides I have more pressing issues to deal with. There are seven positive pregnancy tests laid out in a line on my bathroom counter, and I can’t stop staring at them. Hoping that somehow the result will magically change if I stare at them long enough. It doesn’t, and I’ve never felt so alone. Every time I’ve reached out to talk to Clare, she’s either sent me to voicemail or been distracted on the short calls she’s actually answered. Deep down I know it’s not her I need to talk to, it’s Darius, but my stomach bottoms out at the thought. I’ve paced the living room, the kitchen, the hall, my bedroom, and it’s not helped at all. If anything, it makes my anxiety worse. I got no sleep last night and I vomited four times this morning. I still have no idea howto wrap my head around this, even though everything is startling real.
Glancing at the time, it’s just after ten p.m. and I figure Darius will be at Tariq’s place. My dad is at a charity ball and won’t know if I slip out for an hour. If I’m going to do this, I can’t put it off any longer.
How am I going to tell him I’m pregnant, let alone believe he’s going to have all the answers to help me? I have no idea what I’m expecting him to do but I have to believe he’ll do something. At the very least, I won’t be alone in this secret.
Every stop light flashes red as I approach them. The universe is doing everything it can to drag me through Hell.
I drive by his house, and it’s shrouded in darkness. Driving up to Tariq’s house, there are more people hanging around on the porch than usual. They all look my way as I climb out of the car and make my way up to the front door. The bullet holes have been filled in and painted over, like it never happened. Yet it’s still vivid in my mind. I guess it always will be.
My heart races as I step inside. I look around the living room, not only for Darius, but for Clare too, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
Pushing through the throng of people hanging around drinking and smoking, I try not to breathe in the smoke hanging in the air and track down Darius in the kitchen. He hasn’t changed in the last six weeks and the breath catches in my throat. He’s leaning against the counter, between some girl’s legs as she hangs her arms over his shoulders. I don’t have time to be jealous or care that he’s obviously moved on so fast. I was stupid to believe he meant what he said. Fuck the universe, it doesn’t know shit. He just wanted to use me, the same as Tariq with Clare. Jermaine accused me of wanting to use the guys the first night I came here, but he had it all wrong. Darius used me and I see it so clearly now.
He tokes on the joint and his eyes lands on me. He doesn’t flinch. I didn’t mean anything to him, and it hurts that I get no reaction, not even a tiny flinch. It’s Jermaine who speaks up and everyone in the kitchen quietens.
“Dar, looks like your lamb is lost again. Thought you said you was done with her?”
His announcement stings but I steel my emotions and hold my chin high. Like hell are these people going to their entertainment from me tonight.
“We are done,” I tell him and turn to face Darius. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
For a moment I believe he’s going to stand there and ignore me, which would be humiliating but he finally says, “I’m pretty busy.”
He’s passed a beer and I bite down on my tongue in frustration.
“Please. It’s important.” I hate that I’m pleading but I won’t share the news in front of his friends.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He passes the joint to the girl behind him and places his hand on her thigh. I track his movements and his hand stops above her knee.
“Go home, Amelia.”
