The Marshall Boy

Thirty-eight.

Thirty-eight.
Jessica. 
A Year Earlier...

I stayed on the kitchen floor, sobbing until I had nothing in me left. I had all but crawled to the couch in the living room, and climbed onto it. I had nothing now. No home, no job, no money, no boyfriend: I was sure Blake would tell Marlee I had cheated on him. I knew she'd pick me over Blake, but does Blake know my baby is Nate's? I hang my head in my hands. The only way Marlee would be angry with me is if she knew it was Nate's; even then, she'd be mad for a few months, then get over it. It's who we are; we love each other unconditionally. I try to think of what she'd tell me to do if she knew what was happening right now.

She'd tell me I've already had time to cry it out- it's time to come up with a plan. 

I have nothing. 

Maybe my brain has decided to stop helping me since I don't ever listen to it. It would only be fair. I rub my stomach, the overwhelming love I have for my child filling the empty parts of me as always. Even if I never have anyone else, I'll always have my child. It heals the parts that had been left shattered on the kitchen floor as Blake left the apartment. 

My gaze flickers to the picture of Blake at his college graduation, and I tilt my head to the side. My backup plan if my singing career didn't work was to become a nurse; it's what my Mom wanted for me. I sit there, closing my eyes and, picturing my life if I'd done what she encouraged me to do. I would be a junior in college, my biggest worry would be my education, my pastimes would be studying and partying. I could still do it; I can call Mom. We haven't spoken in two years, but I know she'd answer. She can help me get into college, help me with the baby, she can convince Dad to let me come home. 

I have a newfound energy, as I hop up from the couch and grab my phone from the kitchen counter. I dial her number; the sudden ache in my chest surprising me as I realize how much I miss my Mom. Marlee wasn't the only one who loved me unconditionally. 

The phone is busy, so I end the call and wait. I play out how good it'll be to see my parents again, how much help they'll be with my baby. I rub my stomach again, smiling softly. I can still give my baby a good life; I just need to admit I need help. I'm about to dial Mom's number again, when the doorbell rings.

I set my phone down, and head to the front door, opening it to a familiar face.