When Reality Hits
6 min read
Marcus was halfway through a chapter when Tony started pounding on the front door. Not knocking. Pounding.
The sound rattled the framed photographs in the hallway and startled the cat from beneath the radiator. Marcus kept one finger between the pages of his book and looked toward the ceiling.
“Lord, give me patience.”
Another round shook the door.
“Or bail money.”
He was stretched across the sectional in a deep green robe. A mug of tea had gone cold on the coffee table. Jasmine’s slippers sat near the stairs, and sunlight slipped through the blinds in narrow gold stripes.
Tony let himself in.
“Yo, Jazz!”
Marcus lowered his book.
Tony crossed the living room in a black puffer coat and dropped onto the sofa as if the house belonged to him.
“You could yell a little louder,” Marcus said. “I don’t think the people three blocks over heard you.”
“I’m coming,” Jasmine called from upstairs. “Give me a minute.”
Tony checked his phone.
“You begged me to come over, and now you taking all day.”
Marcus raised his book again.
“Jasmine, please hurry. Tony has important business to attend to. There are corners that cannot supervise themselves.”
Tony turned toward him.
“What’s your problem, dawg?”
Marcus lowered the book slowly.
“First, you have always been my problem. Second, I am not now, nor have I ever been, anybody’s dawg. Therefore, darling, I do not sit, roll over, or follow commands.”
Tony shook his head.
“Whatever. Jazz, I’m about to roll.”
“Bye,” Marcus said.
Jasmine appeared at the top of the stairs wearing pajama pants, an oversized T-shirt, and a cardigan pulled tightly around her body. Her hair was wrapped in a scarf, and her face looked pale.
“I’m here.”
Tony looked her over.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“She’s sick of your shit,” Marcus said.
“I’m fine,” Jasmine answered quickly. “Just tired.”
Tony leaned back.
“What was so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”
Jasmine glanced at Marcus.
He lifted his book, though none of them believed he was reading.
“Can you give us some privacy?” Tony asked.
Marcus lowered the book again.
“I know you are not sitting in my living room asking me to leave it.”
“Marcus,” Jasmine said. “Please.”
He studied her face. The sarcasm softened.
“All right, honey. I’ll check dinner.”
He stood and placed the book on the coffee table.
“If she has any sense, she is about to tell you she never wants to see you again.”
Tony glared at him.
“I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
“Few people are emotionally prepared for me.”
Marcus disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Jasmine to sit in the chair across from Tony.
She pressed her palms together.
“I went to the doctor yesterday.”
“You sick?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Jasmine took a breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
Tony stared at her.
“What?”
“The doctor says I’m six weeks.”
He did not smile or reach for her. His eyes shifted toward the front door.
“So that’s why you had me rush over here?”
“I thought we needed to talk.”
“About what?”
“The baby.”
Tony rubbed both hands over his face.
“Jazz, I don’t have time for this.”
She pulled a small sonogram photograph from her cardigan and offered it to him. He barely looked.
“So what are you going to do?”
Jasmine stared at him, waiting for the correction.
It never came.
“What do you mean, what am I going to do?”
“You keeping it?”
“I thought we would decide together.”
Tony shifted on the sofa.
“The baby isn’t due until November,” she continued. “We have time to figure things out. Maybe we could get an apartment.”
He laughed.
“An apartment?”
“Yes. Our own place.”
“Pump your brakes. We’re not moving anywhere.”
“But you said you loved me.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Because you’re talking about babies and playing house like we planned this.”
“I thought we were together.”
Tony’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t start.”
Jasmine watched him. The man sitting across from her suddenly looked like a stranger wearing Tony’s face.
“You know what this is,” he said.
“No. I thought I did.”
He stood and zipped his coat.
“You’re not my main girl, Jazz.”
The words struck before she understood them.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You told me you weren’t seeing anybody else.”
“I never said that.”
“You said you loved me.”
“And?”
Jasmine rose from the chair, still holding the sonogram.
“I haven’t been with anybody but you.”
“That’s what everybody says.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“I think I don’t know whose baby that is.”
She took a step back.
Tony looked toward the kitchen.
“You made this everybody’s business. Now Marcus got something to say.”
“He is my family.”
“And this is your problem.”
“Our problem.”
Tony shook his head.
“No. Yours.”
Jasmine looked down at the blurry image in her hand.
“What do you want me to do?”
“You know what I think.”
“Say it.”
He sighed.
“When you want to talk about an abortion, call me. Maybe I’ll go half.”
Marcus stepped out of the kitchen wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon.
“Get the hell out of my house.”
Tony turned.
“This ain’t got nothing to do with you.”
“You are standing in my living room disrespecting someone I love. That makes it my business.”
Tony laughed.
“What, you going to put me out?”
Marcus set the spoon down.
“Yes.”
Tony stepped toward him.
Marcus stepped closer.
Jasmine moved between them and pressed both hands against Marcus’s chest.
“Stop. Please.”
Marcus looked at her face and went still.
Tony adjusted his coat as though he had won.
“I’m gone. Call me when you ready to handle it.”
The door slammed behind him.
Jasmine remained standing until his footsteps disappeared. Then her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the sofa.
The sonogram slipped from her fingers.
Marcus locked the door and sat beside her.
“What am I going to do now?”
“You are going to breathe.”
“I can’t do this by myself.”
Marcus looked offended.
“What am I, decorative?”
She covered her face.
“I thought he loved me.”
Marcus gently pulled her hands away.
“Believe it, honey. What you are experiencing is what I like to call an ass ache.”
Despite herself, she looked at him.
“What?”
“It happens when reality hits you so hard it knocks you right on your ass.”
A laugh escaped through her tears.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“First, you are going upstairs to wash your behind.”
“Marcus.”
“Secondly, and this is extremely important, you are going to brush your teeth.”
She almost smiled.
“I’ll finish dinner,” he said. “Then we will talk about what you want.”
“What if I can’t keep the baby?”
“Then we will talk.”
“What if I do?”
“We will talk about that too.”
“We?”
Marcus leaned back.
“Do you see Tony sitting here?”
“No.”
“Then yes. We.”
He picked up the sonogram and studied it.
“I cannot tell what I’m looking at.”
“The doctor showed me.”
“Well, that was kind of her, because this looks like weather radar.”
Jasmine laughed again.
Marcus handed it back.
“Go wash your face. Dinner is almost ready.”
She stood and paused near the stairs.
“Marcus?”
“Yes, honey?”
“I love you.”
He placed a hand dramatically against his chest.
“Oh, honey. I love me too.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes and climbed the stairs. Behind her came the clatter of dishes and Marcus singing badly while he cooked. She stopped halfway up and placed one hand over her stomach. Reality had hit. But it had not left her alone.
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Storytelling Saturday is Intellectual Ink’s weekly space for flash fiction, short stories, and poetry. Each piece gives readers a quick literary escape while spotlighting voices, moods, and moments that linger after the final line.
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