The man smirks at me and shouts back to Twitch, “You should know better, old friend.” Holding my gaze, he utters, “No one wins in war.”
Closing my eyes tightly, my hands cover my stomach protectively as I await the inevitable.
Today, I die.
The shot rings out, and I’m amazed by how little I feel.
Another three shots ring out and I open my eyes. Twitch has the man on his back, with the gun pointed at his forehead. The man laughs, “Oh well. It was worth a try.”
And those would be the last words that man ever said.
The man’s body jerks uncontrollably as Twitch pulls back on the trigger and places a bullet into his brain.
Twitch kneels over the man’s body, panting. Reaching up, he cups the side of his neck, and from this angle, I can’t tell how badly hurt he is. My brain finally tells my feet to move and I run towards him. My mouth won’t work. My eyes move down to the side of his neck where he clutches his palm. Blood trickles from between his fingers and I choke out, “You’re hurt.”
He chuckles, “Just a graze, babe. Seriously, it’s nothing.”
I watch as the trickle turns to a gush. His eyes flutter as he says weakly, “Go get Happy. Right now.”
Standing quickly, I run back into the building and screech, “Happy! I need help!”
Not a second passes before I see Happy exit the door to my right and run towards me. Not allowing myself even a moment away from Twitch, I run and Happy follows. He yells out, “What happened?”
I shout back, “He’s been shot. In the neck.”
When we reach him, my rapidly beating heart stills. He’s not moving. Happy runs right to his side and lifts him. I see the bullet hole in his neck. With every beat of his heart, more blood is pumped out of his body and onto the sidewalk. Happy says, “C’mon, man! Wait! Just wait! Twitch! Wake up!” Happy shakes him and he stirs.
Pulling out his cell phone, Happy dials and says, “Gunshot wound to the neck. Losing a lot of blood. He’s barely conscious.” He rattles off the address while Twitch and I stare into one another’s eyes.
He murmurs, “Too stubborn to die, babe. You know that.”
I do know that. At least, that’s what I choose to believe right now.
Blurry-eyed, I whisper unconvincingly, “Okay.”
He forces a smile and says weakly, “Had worse wounds than this one.” His eyes flutter. “Tell me what we’re naming our baby.”
I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to distract me.
The bullet hole oozes thick blood and I stand there, petrified, but unable to look away. He whispers, “Baby, look at me. In my eyes. You know I love when you see me.”
Blinking through my tears, I tell him, “I haven’t thought of names. It’s too early.”
He half-smiles. “Maybe we’ll do it together when I’m better, yeah?”
I reply immediately, “Yes. Okay, honey.”
The sounds of sirens blaring along with red and white flashing lights stall my happy thoughts. Hands come to my shoulders, and when I look up at the paramedic, I see his mouth moving but the words don’t reach me. The blood roaring in my ears has me temporarily deaf. Fear has me immobilized. Then Twitch is being loaded into the back of the ambulance, smiling at me faintly. Happy jumps in with him and yells out to me, “Meet us at the hospital, Lexi.”
Nodding through a torrent of tears, I order shakily, “Don’t die, okay?”
He responds as firmly as he can, “Gonna be okay.”
And he says this so fiercely that I believe him.
I believe him.
Epilogue
Five years later…
Waking in the morning to something wriggling at the foot of the bed, I smile sleepily.
“What on earth is that? Is there a monster in my bed?” I try my best to sound horrified.
The hysterical giggling is enough to give him away, though.
In one swift movement, I pull back the covers and roar like a lion. AJ squeals, completely giddy before jumping into my arms.
I wrap him up tight and rock him, placing kisses on his forehead.
Spotting something on his hands, I double take and choke a laugh in my throat before I ask, “Sweetie, what happened to your hands?”
Looking up, he smiles, and I catch my second laugh at the gap made by the missing top two front teeth.
I know he’s my child but, by God, he is adorable.
He points to the backs of his hands and explains, “I’m like Daddy.”
Checking his hands again, I look closely at the marker drawings all over his hands.
No one ever accused him of not loving his daddy.
Speaking of which, we need to get up.
The two of us live alone in a three bedroom home on the outskirts of Sydney.
Living with Twitch is not an option.
I quit my job as a caseworker and now proudly wear the title of stay at home mom to my four-and-a-half year old, black-haired, brown-eyed baby boy.
And he’s so much like Twitch it’s scary.
Same looks. Same attitude. Same everything.
Sometimes I wonder if this kid is even a little bit mine.
Knowing Twitch, his sperm probably got to my womb and decided he was going to do the whole baby thing on its own. The stubbornness must be in the genes, because AJ has it too.
Being a single mom isn’t always easy, but when I look at my son, I couldn’t picture my life without him. He’s completely worth it. And he means everything to me.
Placing one last kiss on his head, I tell him, “C’mon, sweetie. Time to get ready. We’re seeing your dad today.”
He jumps up and shouts, “Woohoo!” Then takes off like a rocket down the hall to the bathroom. I hear the water start and I know he’s brushing what’s left of his loose teeth.
Chuckling to myself, I get out of bed, stretch, and start getting ready.
AJ runs down the hall wearing a tee and underwear; looking panicked, he asks, “What do I wear?”
Dipping my chin, I hold back my laughter.
Twitch.
Total Twitch-ism right there. The day he starts telling people to ‘Dress nice’, I’ll have a heart attack.
Knowing he wants to dress nicely to see his dad, I tell him, “How about the black jeans and your Spiderman sweatshirt?”
My son looks up at me wide-eyed in awe as if I’m a genius, and without a word, runs back to his room. I hear things being thrown around and I can’t stop it.
I quietly laugh while shaking my head.
He comes back out all dressed and I say, “There! You look great, honey.” And he does.