She eventually relaxes to the point I think she’s fallen asleep when something hits my hand splayed over her bump.
Leaning up on my elbow, I wait for another and look down, seeing Amelia’s eyes wide open.
Another kick hits my hand, and I laugh.
“That’s amazing.”
“It is during the day, not so much when I’m trying to sleep.”
“Amelia…”
Another kick pops against me and my heart fucking swells double in size.
“This is why I was trying not to cry earlier,” she murmurs.
“This what?”
“After class, all I could think was we weren’t going to share moments like this like normal couples. It was the first time I felt truly alone.”
“You’re not alone, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“I am alone, in the small moments like this, you’re never here. I have to accept that and deal with it.”
She shuffles away from me, my hand slipping from her stomach, and she sits up.
“Now you’ve felt her, I think it’s best if you don’t touch me. My head is all over the place and I’m not emotionally strong enough to read things that aren’t there.”
She’s fucking killing me, yet I can’t bring myself to tell her I miss her, or that if I were a different person or I lived anywhere but Dog City, everything would be different. She’ll get over this, she’ll get over me. All we need is time and as painful as that’s going to be, it’s all we have.
“Let me hold her tonight and come the morning, I’ll not get close again.”
She softly nods and rolls back onto her side, giving me her back. I snuggle against her, keeping my hand splayed across her stomach. It’s not long before Amelia falls asleep, and I soak in the quiet to memorise the feel of my daughter moving around inside her mother’s womb.
For a moment I allow myself to think down the dream road. I could have this every night, not only feeling my kid moving about but lying next to Amelia, inhaling her fruity shampoo, soaking in her warmth as she presses against me. I’d get to fall asleep knowing that for the night, I’m holding fucking perfection and it was all mine.
But I remember I’m not that guy. I’m the guy who gets calls at all times of the night to go handle shit that most hide behind closed doors from.
I’m the guy who earns money from drugs that kill people in the end, ruining their own lives and those around them. I’m the guy who knows how to run the streets with high success. I’m not the guy she was destined to be with.
We were born into different worlds because it was who we were meant to be. As much as it pains me to imagine her with anyone else, I imagine a guy who her father would be proud to show off at the fancy parties these types of people throw. He’d wear a suit to work every day, he’d bring in a salary I could only earn by moving up the ranks in the criminal world. He’d be the guy who reads about the likes of me in the papers over breakfast the housemaid made.
There’s a small part of me that knows that if I walked away, signed over my rights, and became unknown to my kid, she’d have a real good life here and in time call someone else dad. But the part of me that can’t and won’t walk away knows it’s not all about money that makes a person. It’s the family around them. Whether it’s because of them or in spite of them.
My kid is going to have the best of both worlds and she’s going to be strong and open minded and that’s what truly makes a person dangerous. Not these one track minded people who live in their castles above everyone else.
Leaning up, I gently slip my arm out from under Amelia and press a kiss softly on the back of her head, soaking in this moment, knowing it won’t happen again.
By the time I’m driving across the city, the sun is starting to rise and I’m on edge. I thought surviving the streets was the hardest part of my life, but it’s far from it. Walking away from Amelia day after day is and I look forward to and dread at the same time the day where it doesn’t hurt so much.
I let myself into the house and as usual, my grandmother is the first one up and smiles sadly at me.
“Where have you been?”
“With Amelia.”
Her sadness evaporates and guilt sets in. Her hope never fades that I’ll get the girl.
“Not like that,” I tell her. “I felt the baby move.”
