Game of Chance
Chapter 25
"Fuck," Contessa swore quietly before returning to the living room.
She pasted on a smile to mask her distress-she couldn't handle Marshall yet, and she didn't want Hailie to think anything was wrong. Shaking her head and drying her eyes, she held her head high and fought back the rest of the tears she knew she'd cry later.
//
"Dinner is served," she announced.
"Goody!" Hailie cried and ran for the kitchen table.
"Smells good," Marshall commented as he sniffed the aromatic air.
"Tastes even better!" Hailie added.
"Thanks guys," she grinned.
//
Marshall crept behind her, interlocked his arms around her. "I missed you today," he murmured and kissed her cheek.
"Did you?" she half-smiled.
"Uh huh. Hailie really seems to like you."
"That's a good thing, right?"
"Sure," he replied smoothly. "Ready for bed?"
"Yeah," she said, moving towards the bed.
//
Marshall caught her hips and jerked her onto his legs just as she was starting to get into bed.
"I've wanted to do this all day long," he admitted and kissed her lips fully, completely. His tongue dragged across her mouth, teasing his way into the hot caverns within.
He moaned when she opened under him, her tongue clashed with his, and they started melting into each other.
"We can't-I can't-do this tonight," she muttered as she broke the kiss.
"Huh?" he looked a little hurt, and definitely taken aback.
"Just not tonight," she repeated and rolled over to face the wall.
//
"Marshall," she whispered.
"Yeah, baby?" he grumbled as he turned to face her.
"I-I need to tell you something."
"What is it?"
"I'm pregnant," she spat in a rush.
"What?!"
"I'm-I went to the doctor before you came, and well…"
"I thought you were on the pill or some shit?"
"I'm not."
"What the fuck? You mean we've been-"
"Calm down," she replied. "When I was fourteen, I was told I could not have children; that I couldn't even get pregnant."
"What?" he choked as he digested the information.
"I never thought to be on the pill because I couldn't get pregnant…"
"You can't have kids?"
"Not of my own."
"Shit!"
"That's not important right now… What's important is that I am pregnant now."
"How?"
"I think you know how," she replied bitingly.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it! I meant-how? With your condition?"
"Do I look like a fucking doctor, Marshall? I don't know. The doctor said it was a miracle, and that this is likely to be my only chance to have my own child."
"Don't look at me like that!" he growled. "Don't you think for a second that I was gonna even suggest that you-that you abort it! Don't you fucking think that!" he yelled.
"You know it was your first thought."
"It was my first thought. It wasn't my second, and it won't be my last, damn it!" he swore solemnly.
//
"Let's think this through, okay?" he suggested.
"What's to think through?"
"How are we gonna do this?"
"We?" she questioned.
"Yes, we," he mocked.
"Well, you go home in a week, and I take care of myself until we see each other again."
"Excuse me?" he growled.
"Look, Marshall, we both have lives-separate from each other-and this isn't going to interrupt yours, at least."
He looked unperturbed. "This is our problem."
"Even so, it won't be our problem for long," she replied brokenly. "Marshall, there's little chance that I'll be able to carry this child to full term."
"Full term? Like…"
"Like I'm going to lose the baby, regardless," she started crying.
"Oh, god!" he groaned and pulled her to him. "We can handle this. I'll get the best fuckin' doctors, and we'll do everything right!"
"The doctors can't do anything, Marshall. It's me. I can't give you this child."
"Don't say shit like that! You don't know what's gonna happen."
"Do you want to know the percentage of survival? For both of us?"
"Both?"
"There's an eight-three percent chance that I will lose the baby. There's a sixty-four percent chance that I will lose the baby if it's born. I have almost zero chance to bring it full term; it will have to be a premature baby. And if I go through birth? I have an eighteen percent chance of dying. How do you like those odds?"
"Fuck!" he cried and shut his eyes. "You could die."
Marshall breathed deeply; he was numb-he was torn between elation and crying.
"Only if I make it to labor."
"Which you probably won't, right?"
"Right."
"Do you want this baby?" he asked, worrying his lip.
"What kind of question is that?"
"A simple one."
"Of course I want the baby!"
"Well, I do, too…"
"But?"
"This is your decision. It's your body and your life. I don't-can't-make a decision with you."
Author: zines@aol.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.