Layla ( A Dark Beauty Novel) {Urban}

C H A P T E R 21 : In The End Part 2.

Wednesday

1:00 p.m.

Aug, 3rd, 2013

 

    Around one the next day my eyes fluttered open. My body was sore and my eyes were still heavy. It had been a minute since I had partied like that, and I guess after having a baby my body wasn’t use to it. The smell of food woke my senses, but as my nose began to decipher what was cooking, the queasy feeling began to come back.

   At first at the party I was in denial, but when I got home and began to throw up at least two more times, I couldn’t deny it. There was no way I could blame it on the alcohol, because I hadn’t drunk that much.

   Forcing myself to stand up, I walked pass the kitchen and to the bathroom. I shut the door and stood in front of the sink. I turned on the water and began to splash water on my face. I grabbed the nearest dry towel and wiped off, and then I reached into the medicine cabinet, pulled out the toothpaste, squirted a little on my finger and brushed my teeth. As I looked in the mirror I fluffed out my hair a little. “This will have to do…” I thought as I opened the door and walked out the bathroom, and rejoined the rest of the family in the kitchen.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” I heard my son yell as he ran into the kitchen.

“Please, not now baby, mommy doesn’t feel well.” I told him as I propped my leg up on the chair and rested my head on it.

“I missed you mommy,”

“I missed you too baby.” I told him. “I need you to be a big boy and go watch cartoons.” I told him.

“Okay mommy.” he said and then disappeared into the living room.

“When are you going to put him in school?” my mother asked as she flipped pancakes.

“Next week, his grandma and I are gonna’ go down and register him in Edgar.” I answered as I watched her flip the pancakes.

   With every flip I felt my stomach doing summersaults, until the feeling was unbearable and caused me to get up and puke. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you pregnant again?” she asked.

“No I’m not mama.”

“Yes you are.” she protested. “You’ve been throwin’ up ever since three this morning.” she exclaimed. “You and that boy been using protection?”she questioned.

“Yes mama, we have.” I answered.

“Mhm, alright.” She eased up. “You don’t need no more kids.”

“I know.” I agreed. “Junior.” I called out to my son. A few seconds later he appeared in the kitchen. “Rub mommy’s back.”

“Don’t be havin’ my grandson be yo’ slave,” she joked. “Gon’ back and go watch t.v. I got this.” she said as she walked over and replaced him.

    She moved my hair to the opposite side of my shoulder. “Layla what is this on your neck?”

“Oh shit the scar…” I thought.

“Is this a bruise?” she questioned in a serious tone. “Is he hitting you?”

“No,” I lied.

“Layla Lee Lerenda, don’t you lie to me.” she demanded.

“No mama, he’s not hitting me, that came from the curling irons.” I lied again.