Double Standards (Part 1)

Baby Blues

Being pregnant is no joke, being alone and pregnant is torture. Kudos to all the women out there doing it on their own. No, I'm not exactly alone. London's parents have been a God send along with my mafia family.

I'm entering my second trimester and I'm no better than I was when I received the news of London's death. I still have crying spells, loss of appetite, but mainly I refuse to believe London's gone. I await for him to stride in the door and scoop me up.

Secretly, I have been doing my own search, turning over every leaf twice in hopes of finding some overlooked clue. If I mention it  to Conner or Marcus they give me that sympathetic look and explain for the thousandth time it just isn't so. I don't push the matter too much anymore, because everyone is concerned about my sainity during this pregnancy.

Truly I'm okay. Yes, I still mourn London and always will, but this baby is my everything. It's my reason to get out of bed every morning, to eat, to continue to operate my business. I can't shut down like I truly want to.

Doctors did determine that my child is a boy. London will have a son, it just breaks my heart that they won't know each other, but I will do everything in my power to ensure he knows how wonderful his father was. His name will be London Demarcus Harper, but I will call him Demarcus and Dem for short.

Recently I have been learning the Italian language online and with the help of Conner and Marcus. If I do say so myself, I'm doing great. A promise is a promise and I did promise London.

There's still so much Conner and Marcus don't know about me. Other than concluding my own search, I visit London's gravesite everyday and bring a fresh yellow rose to replace the one from the day before. I sit and talk to him, tell him about Dem's progression or my day. I always end the conversation with his favorite saying "remember I love you". Then every night at ten, I sneak outside and walk to a small clearing across the road. Once there, I spin. I spin around with my eye's shut, wishing that once I stop he'll be there. Yes, it's useless but I can dream right?

Something else is going on to that kinda seems odd.

Marcus.

Yes, Marcus and I are friends but lately it seems he's around alot. Maybe I'm overthinking due to my emotions and crazy pregnancy hormones, but it's gotten strange. He's stayed the night several times with me at London's apartment. He slept on the couch of course. I tell him I'm fine, but he insists on staying. Then he has accompanied me to a few doctor visits. I've caught him staring at me often and on one occasion he rubbed my belly bump.

It was awkward to say the least. Even though London isn't here, I feel like Marcus is violating London in a sense. I hope I'm just reading to much into this and Marcus is just trying to be there for me in honor of London. Even if my gut instincts are right, I could never have anything to do with Marcus. I'm am and always will be London's. No other man will ever compare to him or have my love.

Ela is almost in her third trimester and doing well considering what she went through. Oh, and she's expecting a boy too. A tiny part of her feels guilty over London's death as well but I assure her it was beyond anyone's control, even though I secretly harbor ill feelings toward Conner. Yes, I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. I constantly wonder if the outcome would have been different had he stayed back with London. True, it was London's orders for Conner to get Ela out and he was doing as told, but what if?

London's parents, Gino and Lena are in constant contact with me, but I don't mind. This is their grandchild and I know they hurt as well over London's death. Lena always brings me delicious homemade meals telling me to eat up for the baby, or reminds me to prop my feet often to limit my swelling. Thankfully this has been a easy pregnancy so far and I don't look half bad yet.

Nights are my sweetest moments. I lay in bed whispering to Dem about how much I and his father love him. I share stories of London with him. In response I feel his tiny movements in my belly. Yes, judging by Dem's forceful moves, he's going to be strong and big like his Pape.

Yes, I am carrying and raising the new mafia king. He will be just like his father. I will see to.

My London Demarcus Harper.

Dem.