Broken - Navaura Campbell (best e reader for android TXT) 📗

her nervous. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to having someone touch her outside her husband, even if it was routine.

When he got to her breasts, he asked if she’d been feeling any tenderness around the aureola. Denise did the gesture for so so. The doctor then pressed gently into her stomach and going lower, he continued to press until she signaled the pain there. When he reached the area where her uterus was, feeling the ballooned exterior, he continued probing until he finished.

 

When the examination was finished, he took his gloves off and threw them in the garbage. Grabbing her chart off the wall, he wrote in it. When he didn’t say anything, Denise felt the panic in her chest. “I’m pregnant aren’t I?” He turned from the document in his hand and said, “I would say a good eight weeks.”

Denise felt her entire body go numb. How did taking birth control make someone pregnant? This she could not fathom.

“Apparently, higher powers have decided to bless you with another child Mrs. Williams.”

Denise pulled her gown around her body and turned to her side before getting up. She should have known that would be the result. After all, five years with no symptoms and then ending up with symptoms was enough for anyone to handle. The question she had was how would her husband handle it. She wasn’t even sure if he wanted any more children. To her it mattered but not too much that she couldn’t adjust. If there was one thing she knew, it was that she loved her husband. Loved him more than to become upset over one more child. “I’m going to schedule you for an ultrasound four weeks from now. I want to take a look at how the baby is developing.”

Denise exhaled as she listened. She wasn’t happy, but nor was she sad, she was somewhere in between.

When the doctor exited the room, Denise got dressed and left the office. So distracted was she by the news that she didn’t even notice Tamarah sitting in one of the leather chairs facing the receptionist desk.

~ ~

 

Chapter Nine:

Three weeks later

 

Vanessa POV:

 

After getting home from cheer leading practice that Friday, I decided to skip my favorite t.v. SShow, in favor of heading up to my room. I really needed some way to sort through all the thoughts that were going through my head. It had been Three weeks since the party, and although it’d only been a measly three weeks, I’d taken to avoiding Tamarah and Tommy like the plague. I couldn’t stomach being around them, knowing the truth, that they so covertly hid; At-least they tried to, but how they never even spit words at each other just confirmed it. The quieter they became, the more convinced I was that something had happened between them. I also was sure that the hatred they shared for one another was even worse than what it had been in the beginning of their meeting. It’s like they so tangibly wanted to kill each other, that the only thing that kept them at bay was what ever secret they shared and the fact that I was there. They’d talk when I wasn’t around and go all quiet when I was there. I swear it was like being around two different people and it was grating my nerves. The thing is, I didn’t know what to do about it. I’m sure they will eventually come out with it. What goes on in the dark always come to light. What I’m not sure of is how I will handle it. The first week I decided not to be around either of them made me want to just slash both of them up real good. I was seeing more than red, more than black. I was seeing the worst thing imaginable. It makes me wonder how long they can keep what they presume as a secret between them and most importantly, who will I be ready to rip apart first.

 

As I went to my room, and searched through the four racks on the wall, I took out a TLC cd. It was fan-mail. When I was in a down and out mood, I found out that they really soothed my nerves. My mother had introduced them to me my sixth grade year of middle school and said that they were a really good group to listen to when you wanted to muster courage.

 

They made the woman feel as if she was in control. She said their lyrics were down to earth but funny too. I’d listened and found that I liked it. The sound very different from the stupid voice overs of pop rock they had on the radio today. As a matter of fact, I found solace in music of the greats. I even ventured down into the fifties and sixties with Frankie Lymon and Peggy Lee. My music collection was a boaster of many, many great artists, because one thing I loved, more than cheer leading was music.

 

The only reason I wasn’t in the Choir at school was because we didn’t have a choir. Choirs, according to my youth were played out. I thought that was too bad because in my opinion, a choir would be epic and awesome. Anyhow, I would sit in my room, make up my own lyrics and create my own music at times.

 

One day I dreamed of being the freshest face in music. I wanted to be famous. During family get togethers they’d demand I get up and pipe something out. Lisette, my cousin from my uncle Elliot and his wife Neema, would get up with me and we’d do our thing together. Lisette was born to perform. Although she’s only eight, that child can sing like it was nobody’s business. Of course we’d sing a few Irish tunes for the old folks, but mostly new stuff because that’s all she knows. I keep thinking to introduce her to some of my collection, but Uncle Elliot and aunt Neema lives in Chicago and that’s a hard thing to do.

 

Flickering my gaze to one of four music racks, I walked up to it and searched through the titles listed in alphabetical order til I reached TLC. The four racks that I had were arranged to fit in the four corners of my room. Little shelves were above them, which is where I kept a self lit candle. I was also into scented candles. Depending on the mood, I’d use one candle at a time. They were not fire lit but they were like an air freshener that breezed through the room by open window. I’d cracked open my window earlier this morning before leaving and now it smelled like cherries.

 

Putting the CD in my stereo, I turned it up loud and danced around as it began to play, singing along with the lyrics. My mom and dad weren’t here and Craig didn’t get home until four thirty, so I had a total two hours to get down with my own beats. And for the time being, I lost myself in the music,

~ ~

Tamarah didn’t know how long she was sitting out by the pier, or how long she’d been at the beach for that matter. All she knew was that she had to find a way to tell Tommy and then tell her best friend the truth, because nine months from now, all would be revealed anyway and the longer she kept it inside the more hostile and angry toward herself and Tommy she became. If she could take back that night she would without a doubt. Exhaling a shaky breath, hoping to expel the tension in her shoulders, she bent her head, tears continuing in excess down her cheeks. She didn’t know what to do or what to say. She just didn’t want Vanessa to think the worse of her, she didn’t want her to hate her or not be her friend. To be honest, Vanessa was the only real friend she had and without her Tamarah didn’t know who she’d communicate with. Without her, Tamarah didn’t know how she’d get through this.

 

Because it was mid May, when you looked out at the sail boats on the harbor they were constantly docking or being loaded. Not only were sailors charting the waters, but so were fishermen, navy men and commercial boaters; even tourists were also docking the harbor and as she looked out into the bay that led to sea, she suddenly wished she was on one of those boats.

“Hi Tamarah.”

A small smile came over her features. Normally she was happy to see him, wanting to, but for the first time in months, she didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

“Hi, Timothy.” She whispered, her tone soft. The tears had long since streaked her make up and she was now wiping them from her cheekbones.

“Are you alright?” He inquired, concern in his voice.

“Honestly, Tim, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”“About what?”

“I feel like such an idiot, like I am the worst best friend in the world.” Tamarah whispered. She hid her face behind her tears.

“You shouldn’t, Tamarah.” He soothed, coming to sit next to her.

“I cheated with my best-friend’s boyfriend.” She confessed.

Timothy reached over, grabbed her chin and tilted it up. “I know.”

She pulled away, embarrassed. “What do you mean you know?”

“Well, let’s just say that these ears hear everything.” He stated, pointing at his own ears.

Furrowing a brow in curiosity, she wondered how he heard it if no one but her knew? At-least no one but her or Tommy, and Tommy wouldn’t tell anyone. So, how did he know? As if reading her thoughts, he answered, “I heard Athena Longford and Draniece O’neal talking about it.”

Tamarah felt her ears burn and a rage began in her stomach. “What-When?” She felt as if she wanted to be swallowed up into a black hole. Draniece, mouth of the south knew? She could only wonder who else knew.

“They were talking about it in our fifth period Trig class.” Timothy stated.

“Oh my God!” She gasped, tears filled with fear began to fall down her cheeks. Nothing could be more embarrassing than that. “Do you know if they told anyone else?” She asked him, her body going through fits of trembles. Timothy reached out and ran a hand over hers. “No, but I think you should tell Vanessa the truth.”

“I know, Tim. I just don’t know how to say it.”

“Just tell her. It’s not like you got pregnant or anything.” As he spoke those words, Tamarah groaned, the beat of her heart accelerating with anxiety. “Did you get pregnant?” He asked.

Tamarah pulled her hand away from him and looked him in the eyes, “What if I did?” Timothy exhaled sharply and said, “Tamarah, sweetheart, only God can help you out of this one now.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, you aren’t obligated too.”“I know, but I like you.” The words slipped out so freely, that Timothy had no time to think of their impact on her.

“You like me even after knowing I messed around with Vanessa’s boyfriend and got pregnant?”

Timothy exhaled, “You’re not a bad girl Tamarah. You may need Jesus, but you’re