Dawn of Eve - MJ Howson (read full novel .txt) 📗

Dr. Cole quickly wrote this down. He grabbed the bundled tissue from earlier and wiped his nostrils again. The mechanical gears inside the wall clock ticked like a metronome as he reviewed his notes. Dr. Cole’s nods soon came into sync with the clock’s ticking. He tossed the tissue in the trash and looked at Dawn. Her nerves and discomfort were on full display as she sat slumped in the chair.

“Dawn,” Dr. Cole said. “Your desire for motherhood is, well, incredibly strong. Can I ask why you never looked into adoption or surrogacy?”

“I . . . I just always wanted her born of blood. Of love. I always dismissed those options. I felt like it was adopting a stray. I’ve always dreamed of having a daughter of my own, you know? Giving birth is giving life. It’s . . . it’s special.” Dawn smiled and sat upright. “It was Jacob who got me pregnant. I really believe we’re destined to have a baby together. Should we have him come to a session?”

“Jacob?”

“Yes. He lives in New Jersey, and his schedule can be unpredictable, so we’d have to plan it in advance.”

“Sure. If you’d like. Is he open to coming in?”

“I . . . I think so. Maybe.” Dawn sighed and lowered her head. “We were planning to live together at some point. Then the pregnancy and miscarriage. It’s . . . it’s all been so much for us to handle.”

“I understand.” Dr. Cole removed his glasses and leaned forward. “But you told me Jacob’s been very supportive.”

“He has. He’s the one who recommended I seek help.”

“And he shares your dream to have another baby together?”

“Of course.” Dawn bit her upper lip and glanced around the room. She finally looked at the doctor and asked, “Why wouldn’t he?”

Eight

Jersey City

The New Jersey PATH train that ran from the World Train Center to Grove Street was quiet this evening. Jacob, his legs spread wide, glistened with sweat from his last client session. His blue nylon shorts and skin tight white tank top clung to his body. Droplets of perspiration fell from his forehead and onto his thighs. The car felt extra humid on this late August evening.

Jacob did his best to ignore the dozen riders scattered throughout the car. He kept his focus on his phone, scrolling through the long list of notifications. Every app on his phone–Uber, Mail, Message, Cash, Amazon, NYMeet, Instagram, SAM, RidePATH, Yelp, CCredit, and many others–seemed to remind him of something missed, pending, or desired. Jacob wondered why his life felt so complicated. The time was 11:22 p.m., and he was anxious to get home. This evening’s client decided not to renew another six sessions. Jacob was pissed he’d lost another newbie. He’d have to sign another one soon to keep the cash flowing.

The overhead speakers announced the approach of the next stop. Jacob stood up as the train began to slow and grabbed his backpack resting on the seat beside him. The black canvas bag had seen better days. The zippered side pockets were broken, and the handles and straps frayed. But the bag had traveled the world with Jacob and reminded him of a life he once relished. Jacob walked to the closest set of doors and leaned against a pole. As he did, many others focused their envious eyes on him.

Jacob was used to being watched. He gave a quick glance around the car. Half the men and women were looking him up and down. Deep down, he loved the attention. He could have easily showered and changed before heading home. But he preferred looking raw and fit.

His apartment was a few blocks from the Grove Street station. Jacob used the walk to review his calendar for tomorrow. Far too often, his bartender and client schedules clashed. He chuckled to himself at the thought of getting a secretary to help him keep his life in order.

The muggy stale air caused Jacob to sweat even more. He tossed his phone into his backpack and began to jog the rest of the way home. Running always helped ease any tension he felt.

Jacob lived in a two-bedroom flat located on the top floor of a nondescript three-story brick apartment building. He sprinted up the stairs to get one final bit of cardio in before calling it a night. After unlocking the door, he stepped inside and looked for his roommate Sean. The lights were on, but nobody was around. A window-mounted air conditioner hummed loudly. As he headed to his bedroom, he paused beside Sean’s bedroom and placed his ear to the closed door. Although he couldn’t hear anything, the wavering light from the bottom edge of the door told him his roomie was inside.

Jacob continued down the hallway and flicked the light on in his bedroom. Posters from Jacob’s days of modeling covered the walls, including a number of iconic photos shot for Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, and Hugo Boss. The pictures reminded Jacob of his youth and stardom prior to the scar that ended his career.

After tossing his backpack onto his bed, Jacob quickly tore his clothes off and flung them onto a pile of dirty clothes lumped in the corner. He went to the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel. Jacob ran the cloth over his naked body to wipe down the sweat, tossing the rag into the sink when done. He checked himself in the mirror, noting his chest hair was getting a bit fluffy. He’d have to buzz that down tomorrow morning. Jacob ran his thumb across his facial scar before turning off the bathroom light. He returned to his bedroom and slipped on a pair of white and black checkered boxer shorts.

Jacob went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of tequila, and poured himself a double shot. The room smelled of garlic and oregano. A pizza box beside the microwave had two cold, stale greasy strips of pepperoni and mushroom inside. He downed