I wake up to the sound of thunder. It jolted my body awake. Thereâs no sunlight as my eyes struggle to open since the skies are still gray outside and Iâm in love. I love the rain. Itâs still here, keeping me company and thereâs something about waking up to rain that relaxes me. I check the time on my phone and itâs eight in the morning.
Placing it back down on my all-white nightstand, I turn and stretch my body out. I lift my arms and curly my feet. The smell of my momâs cooking fills the room and my stomach is rumbling.
Iâm reaching toward the inside of my drawer searching for my ultrasound photos and I canât find them. I start to panic. I jolt forward, ripping the bedsheets off my bed and Iâm internally screaming.
I whisk the drawer open and I frantically start throwing stuff out everywhere.
Did my mother come inside my room when I was sleeping? Does she know?
Oh no. This canât be happening.
I stand up, trying to get a deeper look at my nightstand and I stop. Suddenly, something catches my eye.
A massive chunk of my hair falls to the ground.
And then another chunk falls out. Watching huge amounts of my black hair fall to the ground, hitting my feet, sends horror ripping through my chest. I grab my hair, running to my vanity mirror in my bedroom, breathing hard.
I grab my hair and start pulling on my hair and more hair keeps falling out. It looks like I had gotten a botched haircut. Jagged crooked edges run across my hair at my shoulders and Iâm freaking out. Iâm hyperventilating, tears falling down my cheeks rapidly, my chest heaving up and down, my fingers trembling amongst the strands of my hair as it falls onto my desk. Iâm panicking as I brush my hands through my hair, frantic.
Red letters catch my eye. Thereâs a message written on my desk with my lipstick along with my ultrasound photos, ripped to shreds.
I scream at the top of my lungs.
Someone was in my room.
Someone came into my room while I slept and wrote this message and cut my hair.
I canât take this anymore.
Someone broke into my house, into my room, and did this to me. He want to kill me.
Why didnât he do it last night? Why is he slowly terrorizing me?
I collapse on the floor holding my hair, watching it fall out, crying uncontrollably. It just keeps falling outâ¦
âMija! Whatâs wrong?â My mom swings my door open, with a loud, thud. Sheâs scared to death and rushes towards me. Iâm still on the ground sobbing. Not caring if she catches me with pieces of the ultrasound in my hand. She bends down and puts her hands on my shoulders.
âSomeone broke into our house while we were sleeping. They cut off my hair! They said theyâre going to kill me!â I shriek, pointing to my desk.
I must have slept through the break-in. The thunderstorm must have drowned out their sounds as they broke in.
âWe need to call the police.â My motherâs voice in distress.
She stands up and she catches the message written on my desk and Iâm hugging my knees. Still gripping onto the hair thatâs no longer attached to my scalp.
âWhatâs this?â
I look up and she has a piece of the ultrasound in her hand.
âIs this yours?â She asks. My heart drops and Iâm still sobbing.
âYâ yes. Ma⦠Iâm pregnant.â My aching voice rasps and Iâm shaking. She stumbles back still holding a piece of the ultrasound. Her breathing quickens and she looks at me, disappointed. Sheâs frozen and it looks like her eyes are searching for something.
Every single second that Iâm waiting for her reaction, it feels like forever. Iâm going through so many emotions at once, I clutch my stomach trying my hardest to calm down. I didnât want the stress of this to drive me into a miscarriage.
âMa?â I ask, looking up at her. Itâs like sheâs frozen. My questions snap her out of her trance. She readjusts her cardigan across her chest. Sheâs avoiding my gaze and turns on her heels.
âWeâll talk about this after the police get here.
police report we need to file.â She seethes. Sheâs cold-hearted and angry. She pulls out her phone just before she leaves my room and dials 911.
Iâm sobbing uncontrollably. My failed attempts to keep myself calm are failing.
Screw this, from now on, Iâm sleeping with my brotherâs Glock and knife. Letâs see how tough Shane feels then.
âMaâam, I would invest in security cameras. The next time, and hopefully thereâs no next time, you and your mother will be able to collect solid evidence on whoâs breaking and entering your home.â The same cop that came to my house a few weeks ago answered the call.
Heâs back here with the same condescending tone, leaning on the doorway. His hand rests on his belt, yawning. He took down our statements and photos of the break-in, filing another report.
âYup. Iâll look into it, sir. Thank you for and safety that you provide.â I sarcastically nod, crossing my arms. He glares at me before he goes back to chewing on his tobacco. He closes our front door and I instantly lunge to lock it.
Shane cut most of my hair off and left me with short hair. My long hair is no more. I called my hairdresser, Sadie, and pleaded with her to take me in on such short notice, sometime today. Sadie was always booked with clients. She only took appointments but she said I could go in at anytime today.
I turn around from the front door to face my mother. Sheâs sitting on the dining room table, at the end. She has one of her hands tucked into the sleeve of her cardigan. Sheâs fiddling with her cross necklace with the other, as she motions for me to sit down at the table, nodding.
I swallow and walk towards her, dreading every step. I changed into jeans and a white sweater after my quick shower. My head feels lighter with half of my hair gone. I purse my lips and sit down, tucking my hands under my thighs, nervously.
âQuien es el papa, Danny?â My mom breaks the silence with a straightforward question.
She was diving straight into my situation with no remorse. I didnât expect anything less.
âYes,â I answer softly.
She takes a deep breath and cringes at my answer. Her eyes shut tight and she releases her cross necklace. Her hands fall down to the table and she intertwines them together.
âI just donât know where I went wrong. You were supposed to wait until you were married, Ari Natalia.â She stares at my collarbone. âWhereâs your cross necklace?â
She calls me by full name and I start biting my lip. Itâs been a while since I heard my middle name fall from her mouth. The last time she said my middle name, I was in high school. I almost failed my math class and she was so angry when I told her I might not graduate with straight Aâs.
I donât know how to explain to her that my necklace stayed in Iraq when Danny ripped it off right before I had sex for the first time.
âIâ¦â She doesnât let me finish.
âI donât understandâ¦
. Iâve raised you in a Catholic household. One, youâre supposed to wait until marriage to have sex. Let alone, get pregnant with a baby out of wedlock.â She rushes out, her voice rising.
Her words sting and my hormones are getting the best of me. I wonât let her talk to me like this. I was done letting her control every single thing about my life. It was time for me to set boundaries with her. I need to ignore my need to please her with every single decision in my life.
âMa, stop it.â
âHow far along are you? I imagine a couple of months.â She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes widening with anger and impatience.
âAnd Danny? Whereâs he at? He just knocked you up and disappeared? Hasnât called?
How could you be so irresponsible?â Her questions are bursting out of her one after another not giving me a chance to answer them. The way she assumes she knows Danny irritates me. Ever since my brother died, I hadnât recognized myself. The day I met Danny was the day I started to change and grow into a different kind of woman. Danny isnât the only reason for the change in me. He brought out the pieces of me I was ashamed of. He pushes me to my limits. Makes me face my fears with no remorse. I admire him for that.
This was a side of my mother I wasnât aware of. Iâm betting she could say the same thing about me. I brush my hands through my hair tucking the short strands behind one of my ears, my anger elevating.
Still, Iâm listening to my mother without interrupting her, out of respect.
âYou just started your career. Youâve done such amazing things to make me proud and now this?â She seethes, throwing her hand out in front of her, referencing my surprising pregnancy. Her tone is icy and cold. Itâs extremely unfamiliar and unpleasant.
âI should have never pushed you to go to his house that day. I thought you were smarter than this, Ari Natalia. What would Paul think that youâve slept with his best friend? You should be ashamed of yourself.â
Something erupts inside of me and Iâve decided Iâve had enough. Iâve had enough of her ignorant, hurtful comments. I stand up from the chair, my hands turning into fists at my sides. Iâm breathing quickly through my nose, hot air releasing.
âMa, thatâs enough! I donât have to be here. I donât have to stay here with you in this house but . I have my own life and career set, I can do this on my own. I donât need anyone thatâs not supportive of my life choices. I donât need you. I donât even need Danny.â
Her eyes circle and sheâs taken aback by my defensive tone. She sits back in her chair, her hands resting on the arms of the chair, looking up at me.
âMy faith in God hasnât been the same since Paulâs death. Iâm sorry, I know you donât want to hear this. I donât know what I believe anymore but what I do believe is that I donât think anyone should have to wait until they are married to have sex if they donât want to. Thatâs such a big part of someoneâs life. Itâs not taboo to want to discover that part of being human before getting married! I will not be afraid anymore. I will not let this trauma from our religion hinder my life choices ever again.â
My mother scoffs and crosses her arm. She shakes her head and looks away from me. Sheâs offended by my outrage but I donât care. I love my mother but she needs to understand that Iâm not the same Ari anymore. I couldnât keep this inside any longer.
âYes, Danny and I just met. My pregnancy was an absolute accident but you know what?â
I choke up. My throat hurts and I swallow the lump beginning to form.
âI will be the best mom I can be despite any obstacles life throws at me. Even if I do it alone, I know Iâll be okay.â My voice cracks. My mom is in silence and I see that her face has softened. She releases a harsh breath, looking at her surroundings. Sheâs trying to gather her thoughts, her lips trembling.
âIâm sorry. Mija, come here. Iâm sorry.â She apologizes and Iâm stunned. My knees are weak but I mentally remember to stay strong. This was a new era in my life and Iâm glad that instead of crying and cowering from confrontation, I stood my ground.
âItâs just ever since you got back itâs already changing my life. Iâm worried about you. This ex-boyfriend of yours has me fearing for your life and mine.â She starts to tremble. âAll of this is stressing me out. Shane wants to kill you. He wants to take the only child I have left?â Her voice breaks and sheâs crying. Tears fall out from both eyes as she struggles to look at me.
I walk fast to her and hold her shoulder. I hate seeing my mother cry.
âYou have to look at this from my point of view. I was raised my entire life, by my parents to wait until marriage, until you have met a man of God. A man who worships Him.â She points to the ceiling. âTo live your life by His commandmentsâ¦â she pauses.
âBut your happiness means more to me. I know youâre changing. And Iâm proud of the woman that youâre becoming.â
Iâm shocked. This was not the reaction I was expecting.
I walk over to my mother and she turns around in her chair, looking at my stomach. Her eyes lock onto my sweater and she places her hand on top of it.
âIâm going to be a grandmaâ¦â she laughs and tears up.
âIâm too young!â She jokes, wiping at her eyes, preventing tears from falling. She brushes her black peppered bangs out of her eyebrows.
âIâm going to be a grandma.â She repeats, holding her cheeks with both of her palms, happiness sparks from her body and weight falls off of my shoulders. The initial shock of my pregnancy finally settles in.
âYes, you are. And Paul is going to be an uncle.â
She stands up and embraces me. I hug her back tightly and refrain from crying. She steps back and grabs my hands with hers. Her touch is cold and soft. Her veiny hands are underneath my palms.
âI have questions I need answered though.â She arched her brows, studying me.
âYes, Ma?â
âDoes Danny know youâre pregnant? How old is he anyways?â
âNo, he doesnât⦠His job is just like Paulâs, mom. I canât talk to him when heâs doing special operations. And I believe heâs thirty-three.â
âWhen in the world is he coming back? Hopefully, itâs before the baby is here!â My mom exclaims dramatically.
âIâve been wondering the same thing.â My chest tightens at the thought of him.
Iâm starting to worry about his safety. Something pulls my attention to the front windows and the flashback of two uniformed men at my front door, comes back sickeningly. I shake my head out of that delusion. Heâs going to come back.
he would be back.