“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll send you money to help. But Sydney, I don’t want to be a dad. And I don’t want to feel guilty about that. I’m trying to let you know as clearly as I can that I don’t want this.” His face was rigid as he spoke. “I mean it. I can’t do this. I don’t want to hurt you because I love you. But I don’t want this. I’m sorry.”
“Do you? Love me, I mean? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I’m sorry, too,” she murmured. “It’s not like I asked for this, either. But it’s here now and I’ll deal with it.”
She turned her back on him and started packing a suitcase. Her thoughts turned logical as she realized that she should take practical pieces of clothing- ones that she would be able to wear for at least a couple of months while her belly grew. Definitely no skinny pants. She grimaced as she tossed stretchy yoga pants into the suitcase.
“You can go now, Chris.”
She didn’t even look at him. She didn’t relish putting him through this and didn’t want to see the anguish on his face. Besides, his face reminded her of a betrayal. A very fresh betrayal.
“Syd…” His voice was pleading as it trailed off. It was clear that he didn’t know what to say.
“I mean it. Just go.” She forced her voice to be cold so that he would listen.
It was one more moment before she heard the door click shut. She turned to look and Christian was gone. She was all alone. She steeled herself against the pain that instantly ripped through her. She had things to do. She’d let her heart break later.
Before she could think even one more thought, her door flung open again and Jillian Ross walked briskly inside. Sydney decided grimly that the temperature dropped a couple of degrees immediately.
“If you think that we will be helping you, you are vastly mistaken.” Jillian’s voice was as sharp and unforgiving as barracuda teeth. Sydney didn’t even flinch.
“Mom, this is my decision. I don’t want anything from you.” Sydney didn’t look at her mother- she just continued packing, throwing a pair of running shoes into the bag.
“Well, that’s good- because you won’t be getting anything. I’m closing your bank accounts and don’t even think about taking your car. I’ll report it as stolen if you try. The title isn’t in your name. If this is the path you want to take, take it. But you’ll be taking it alone and I’m warning you. It’s not going to go well for you. Do not mess with me.”
Her mother’s steely glare was unwavering and Sydney sucked in her breath. She hadn’t expected her mother to be quite so vicious. Angry, yes. Sharp-tongued, yes. Horrendously hateful? No. But then again, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Jillian Ross had ice water running through her veins instead of blood. Sydney didn’t allow herself to focus on it, though.
She simply said, “I’ll be gone in 15 minutes.”
Her mother stalked from her room and Sydney was once again alone. She picked up her phone and called a cab and then started feverishly throwing clothing in her suitcase. She added a second suitcase full of toiletries and she stuffed a few sentimental items in there as well, before she took a shaky breath and looked around her.
She was so accustomed to the luxury of her life that she didn’t even notice the 1200 count Egyptian cotton sheets, delicate brushed silk draperies, antique armoire and $10,000 bed. What she saw was the disarray surrounding her- the clothes and personal items scattered everywhere- which she felt was an obvious comparison to her life. Everything was in shattered pieces.
She heard the faint honk of the taxi through her window and she quickly picked up her suitcases, leaving her room without a backward glance. The large foyer was empty as she descended the stairs, so thankfully she didn’t have to face anyone. She breathed a quick sigh of relief and quietly left the house without fanfare, putting her bags in the trunk of the cab and then climbing inside.
The burly cab driver grunted, “Where to?”
And she suddenly realized that she didn’t know. All she had in the world now was the contents of her two suitcases, the clothes on her back and the money in her wallet, which was not a problem that she’d ever had before. She wouldn’t be able to live in a hotel very long and she didn’t have any relatives. Except for one.
The idea came to her suddenly. Her distant cousin, Stephen, had found her through a social networking site a year ago and they had been emailing back and forth ever since. He was a writer who was trying to live his dream by writing his first novel. He lived alone and she knew that he would let her stay with him. She pulled out her phone and looked up his address, giving it to the driver.
She leaned back in the smelly cab seat and closed her eyes for the thirty minutes that it took to drive to the South side of Chicago, immersing herself in the gravity of what she had just done. She had literally just given up the life of a princess. And oddly enough, she didn’t have any regrets. Of course, it was entirely possible that she might still be in shock.
The sound of the driver locking the car doors made her open her eyes. Pressing her forehead against the window, she immediately understood why. This was far from being a good neighborhood. She could honestly even call it the worst that she had ever been in.
Houses were crammed together like matchsticks. It seemed like there was only an inch or two in between each one. Paint was peeling, trash was in yards. Some had boarded-up windows and some hadn’t even bothered…broken glass rose in jagged shards from weathered windowsills. More than a handful looked completely abandoned.
As she took it all in, freshly painted bright red words jumped out at her from the face of one of the dilapidated houses. SUCK MY DICK, WHORE. Nice. Painted next to the eloquent words, also in bright red, was a giant sized penis and set of balls. The vandal was also an artist. Definitely not Picasso, but he had gotten his point across.
And Sydney knew it was a he. A female would never have painted the penis so large. It had been her limited experience that men always had inflation issues when it came to the perception of their own anatomy. She shook her head. This neighborhood was truly the armpit of the world. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t have anywhere else to go. She was homeless.