WHEN HE BROKE ME

" Not again, not again," I said, shaking my head vehemently as crimson read liquid drooled down my thigh.

"It's okay, Violet," Gregory said, wrapping his arm around me. His broad strong shoulders accommodated my head while his fingers cleansed the blinding tears that trickled down my bloodshot eyes.

A clatter of footsteps rang across the hallway as his mother, Patricia, now graced us with her presence. Her wrinkles threatened to spill over on her neck with every vigorous movement.

"Where is it?" she asked with a stern fold of a forehead.

"We...we lost it," Gregory replied, still caressing my face.

"That's your fourth miscarriage in your six years of marriage, Gregory. You're not getting any younger and neither is she."

"I know, mother." His eyes turned sharply away from her staring blankly into mine.

"Gregory," she said, crossing the distance between them.

"I have let you have your way, way too long. I think it's time we tried mine."

"I will not, mother. I won't cheat on my wife."

She looked at me for a minute and then returned her gaze to Gregory, watching him with bent brows as her fingers clutched her purse tighter.

"You are rich enough to afford as many wives as you want in this town of Mississauga and yet you choose to hold on to a barren love."

"Mother," he said, turning sharply.

"I will not have you talk to me like that in my own home."

"A home, Gregory," she said with a scoff, chuckling at his last sentence.

"You call this place that hasn't heard the cry of a baby since your marriage in 1988, a home."

His stare dropped to the floor beneath her. His head drifted to avoid meeting her in the eyes as he replied with a chronic stutter in his voice.

"We...w...we are trying, Mother."

"Try harder!!" she shouts strolling off into the corridor from whence she came

"I'm sorry," he said, bending to tend to my overflowing tears.

I grabbed his fingers, staring loosely on his face.

"She's right, you know," I said lowly.

"Oh, babe please don't start. I can't put you through that kind of pain. I promised I won't hurt you."

"Right now it's the only way," I said with a sob.

"I re..." He shushed me, placing a finger on my lips, caging back any words my tongue was almost about to spill.

"Say nothing more."

He bared me upon his strong arms lacing my cheeks and forehead with little soft kisses as we headed for our bedroom.

His blonde short hair swept across my skin each time he brought his face to mine. Patricia was right we had stayed long enough without a child and it was high time one of us took a stand. Even though it was not going to bode down well with the other.

"Good morning, madam," Agatha greeted bending slowly.

"Morning, Agatha," I said, taking a seat on the dinning table as she poured me a mug of steam rolling tea that chased away the chills of the Mississauga air from your blood.

She walked over to the counter with her slender build on display. I gawked at her soft pink lips that needed no lipstick to stand out. Her slender curves a good enough bait for any man's eyes and her flawless fair skin sparkled even with the dim sunlight.

She was exactly in the league of women Gregory was into. Shocking was the fact that he hadn't had an affair with her for the past four years of her work here till now.

I stared into the mug, the sediments of floating chocolate chunks strolled down its walls, just like the blood strolled down my thigh that evening. My melancholic screams did nothing in my favour as I laid on the staircase with him holding my head soaked in screeching tears, even though it was short and painless.

"Agatha," I called out.

"Yes madam," she replied, running forward.

Deep breaths rolled into my nostrils as I stared across into her unexpectant eyes. I had already conceded defeat. I loved him but this was much more bigger than love.

"I have a proposal for you."

My feet paced about our room anxious for that door to bulge or creak open.

"Honey, I'm home," he said. His voice ran up the stairs and into our room.

"Oh, my love," I replied with an upbeat tone, throwing the door open, gliding down past the stairs and into his arms. His peppermint scent flirted with my nostrils as he ran his hand through the packs of my heavy crochet.

"How was work?" I asked.

"Fine, business as usual," he said, crashing onto the couch with his head raised to the ceiling.

"I ha...I have something to tell you," I said fiddling with my finger

"Go on."

"I...I." I said with a fallen gaze that shuddered to face his.

"I have found the perfect woman for you." A contorted line of disgust clumped along the lines of his face.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"A surrogate," I replied with twitchy feet. The tension in his eyes glazed over me. The apparent stare of disgust had now born into stern airs of disappointment and firmly raised eyebrows that hovered in the spaces between us.

"You don't have to be upset. It's just a period of nine months, nothing more. When she gives birth we pay her off and then we keep the baby.

"I," he said with a stutter, reserving the other words with a firm hand over his mouth, with his eyes walking away from me.

"I can't believe you're allowing her get to you," he finally spilled.

"No babe," I said, joining him on the couch.

"I know you love me and you can't bear to see me hurt but this is bigger than us, than our love."

He sobbed as I stared into his eyes, watching those glaring tears quickly build from underneath.

"I won't hold it against you," I said placing my palm on his

"So who do you have in mind?" he asked with a gust of breath.

"Agatha, I said cheerfully.

"Our maid!!" he iterated with eyes blown wide open and lips left ajar.

Agatha stood in front of us with hands hidden behind her back and her long brown hair packed into ponytails, billowing softly with the breeze that ran in.

"These are the papers," Patricia said, laying the piece of paper on the glass table. Her eyes rummaged through every piece of her skin, her nose sniffing round to pick any faults.. My legs crossed as I watched with a brimming smile, bubbling underneath my cheeks. Gregory's face still remained wrapped in cold hard shards of resentment.

His long pointed nose darting away from my image, even though his hands remained deeply entangled with mine.

"Go through it and give us your reply," Patricia said after a long hard scan. She slowly turned to me with a light smile growing along the edges of her cheeks before she gently placed her hand on my knee.

"You've made the right decision although I wasn't expecting a maid."

Gregory's eyes flinched while the grip he held on my fingers tightened, until they pressed fervently against my fragile bone.

"Um, babe. You're hurting me," I said softly into his ear and he immediately stormed out the room.

"I accept," Agatha said after a brief pause, maintaining a straight face.

"Good. Now Violet, you'll introduce her to everything she needs to know about him," She said, clipping her hands to the hem of her skirt.

"I want results as soon as possible," she said, staring at Agatha who laced her bony cheeks with a faint smile.

"Don't worry, he'll come around," Patricia said with her hands propped on my thigh again.

"I hope he does," I replied, forcing a heavy gulp of nervousness rolled in my own saliva down my throat. She arose from the couch, her lips smooched against the tilt of the mug, gulping whatever remnants stuck to the bottom of the mug before dusting off any crumbs of bread that held fast to her long grey skirt.

"I'll be on my way now," she said before darting off eloquently towards the door.

"Thank you," Agatha said before deserting me to the silence of the living room.

I sunk my back into the couch, deeper casting my mind upon the frowns on his face but still hanging my trust on Mrs. Patricia's words. He will definitely come around. He will see that this is all for him with time.

The morrow birthed the morning, even though darkness still paraded the sky. I watch on top of the bed as he dashed in every position, his face sturdy, refusing to relinquish a glance my way.

He ran his fingers across the different colours of suits portrayed in his wardrobe.

"Good morning," I said watching as his hand grabbed at the red furry one.

"Morning," he replied sharply without the side notes of sweet names we bottled into every sentence each morning.

"Off early?" I asked as dark clouds still circled the sky.

"Yes, I have a presentation today," he replied even though I knew he was lying. The sharp reply a dead give away that he doesn't want to talk about our pressing issues.

He struggled with his tie, throwing ends randomly over and across each other. I stepped down from bed and placed a hand over his fidgeting wrist.

"I goes like this," I said slowly, throwing the ends over each other in an accurate manner that paid more attention to detail.

"You don't have to do this, Violet," he said, feeling the small freckles housed on my dark caramel skin.

"I do."

He let out a bout of air, putting his arm on my shoulder as he spoke.

"I will do as you please but you have to promise me that you won't let it hurt you."

"I promise," I said with a wary smile staring into his face with a glimmer in my eyes. He roped his arms around me as my head sunk into his hairy chest. His breath whistled down, racing, strumming the pores on the sides of my neck.

"A hot cup of cappuccino on a Saturday morning before work and a little shower of praises to fuel his ego. That's all he likes," I said with a giggle as golden rays of morning sunlight rested on her.

"He is really not complicated," I said with a glass of bourbon on my tongue

"Agreed," she said, sinking her lips into a cup of tea.

"No offence, madam but does he like it with the lights on or off?" she asked after clearing her throat.

"On," I replied sharply with a long beam stretching from ear to ear.

"He likes to see my facial reaction anytime he goes down," I said, throwing a fit of loud laughter in between slurps.

"He's a very nice man."

"He most definitely is," she said, lending a voice.

The seriousness now embezzled on my face drafted out any series of impending laughter she had in mind to summon as I leaned forward.

"You know the agreement is to start tonight, right."

"Yes I do," she replied also with a nod. Her face now tight, sensing me, cast the jokes aside.

"You must do everything as I have asked of you for this to be a success."

That night it started as he arrived with a damp spirit and a heavy grin hung over his face. He motioned almost robotically through the steps and into our room.

"I still don't feel like doing this babe," he said with the lacklustre movement of an eye roll.

"Come on, now babe. It's just for 9 months and then she'll be gone and it will all return back to normal," I replied, dropping a peck to his cheeks.

"No matter what, I still love you," he said, dragging his feet reluctantly against the Italian marble tile he installed. His face resented the idea, his body itched to disobey but only a glance at me was enough to stomach his dissatisfaction.

He gave a hard sound knock against her room door.

"Good evening, sir," she greeted with a smile and a bow. Her hips cozied up in a short polyester gown that hung over her knee and kept all intricate details on full display. She had heeded my advice.

"Good evening, Madam," she greeted turning to me. My lips barricaded any words that rose to the roof of my tongue for anything I uttered would have been in complete disregard of her salutation. Instead I replied with a wry smile.

He walked in slowly with his eyes holding on to my image until she shut the door in.

I rolled in bed with the cold air whispering against my skin with cold breath. The small spaces between me and sheets felt like vacuums that reflected my loneliness and the sound of their moans creeping in past the door cringed my ears.

My legs folded, finding solace in the wrap of my arm rather than the sheets spread on top of them. Minutes later, I buried my head under a pillow to wade away the ghost of their voices.

He floated in announcing himself with the clearing of a throat as he stood by the door with a small smile raising one side of his lips over the other.

"Welcome, babe," I greeted immediately, plastering a smile over my lonely grin.

"How did it go...?" I started but he instantly usurped me, stamping his words in front of mine.

"How are you?"

"Fine," I replied, dragging my cheeks wider and as if premeditated, he saddled his arm around my waist, blanketing me with his frame.

The little smile I wore had extended out rightly by now blossoming into full blown bubbles of loud giggles and subtly chuckles.

Patricia came in with the daylight, sitting with folded arms in the living room as her feet tapped against the tiles and her face wandered from one end to another, scouring it like in search of something she had lost.

"Agatha," she called out, sighting her from the corner of her eye as her footsteps clapped against the tiles.

"Good morning, ma," she greeted, spreading a faint smile across her cheeks as he zipped past me.

"So how did it go?" she asked, jolting up to meet her half way. Her bars of patience had been very low from the moment she stepped in and she wasted not another second to bombard her ears with rolling questions.

"Did you make sure he put it in the right place? Did you enjoy it?"

"Did you enjoy it?" She asked, grabbing hold of her shoulders.

To all those Agatha replied with giggles and nods. She glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth and till she left no words fell from her mouth.

The facade I wore began to quickly fade listening to her concurring nods and giggles pinch my ears.

"He's very good at it," I added before excusing myself from the circle.

The weeks flew by with the bitter winter wind. Not that it was ever very sunny in Mississauga but the air didn't drive this sort of chill that hugged your joints and bones or perhaps it was the air from my lonely nights that had grown cold.

Each night since the agreement started it took him longer and longer to return to my bed. The room that was one ours slowly became mine and no event proved it more than the night he didn't return to warm my bed.

"Why didn't you come?" I asked with short breaths running off my nostrils.

"I...I...I..." he replied with a stammering tongue.

"Why didn't you come back, Gregory Conor?"

His shoulders flattened with heavy bouts of air existing his lungs.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I must have been really tired."

"It's okay," I replied, jumping down from the bed and knotting my arms around his neck.

"Get ready for work," I said with a little sob distancing myself from him.

By the time the first light of day cracked the shell of darkness, he was already by the side of his vehicle, the Subaru. As the second largest shareholder in the company he was entitled to the latest versions of each model and the Impreza was his darling whose black colour shone brightest among his collection.

His face bore no emotions, watching me on the balcony as the engines roared and the tires screeched for the road.

"Good morning," Agatha greeted from behind me.

"Agathaa," I said, dragging the last stretch of her name a bit too much to shrug off any dark clouds of pain or pity hovering over my face.

"How did last night go?"

"Usual."

"Goo..."

"I'm pregnant," she said and upon her words my heart missed a beat as a line of sweat broke loose from my forehead.

I held my mouth with my palm as gasps gushed out.

She stood a few feet from me rubbing her tummy eloquently with an elongated smirk.

Minutes later I strode to her, embowing her with a warm embrace and a kiss to the forehead.

"Thank you," I said as she remained unfazed, only passing a wrinkled smile at the death of my every sentence.

By evening Patricia had returned with her from the clinic, walking through the door exchanging giggles and laughs about themselves. Even Gregory flew up at the sight of her, tossing off my head kept on his shoulder. He stood licking his lips as he strapped his arms round her.

"Welcome," he said.

" Welcome," I said with wrinkled cheeks as we held hands.

"Thank you," she said, turning to Gregory perching the side of her head against the side of his hairy chest which the buttons refused to conceal.

A deep pit grew within the walls of my stomach as my head and shoulders slumped downwards.

I rolled my hands back and forth against my knee as darkness loomed outside my window in the background while I stared at the door, waiting for him to come through that door so I could fire off my tantrums.

"Why were you like that with her?" I asked once he had shut the door.

"Like how," he replied with a snarl.

"You come back late at night or not at all and now you're treating her like your wife!!" I said with a drag of air.

" I thought you said you wouldn't get hurt by all this. That it was okay with you?" he asked with a discerning gaze.

"Not when you rub it in like that," I said with shoulders pulled tightly together as my left arm rubbed against my right.

"But this was your idea, wasn't it?" he yelled

"And now you're blaming me."

I sensed the flow of raging blood course through him. His skin boiled red and his clenched fist trembled as he looked at me.

"Calm down," I said, grabbing him by the wrist as he darted towards the door but he brushed aside my hold and continued his raging movements.

"Greg...Babe," I said chasing after him but he giant strides landed at the mouth of her door as he flings it open and bangs it shut against my face.

"Gregory, Babe," I yelled, hammering at the door.

"Please..." But my constant knocks and screams were replied with long moans and groans, echoing about the room, the thud of tense bodies scrubbing against each other scrambling across a spread of nylon sheets.

A swelling current slowly rose like a tide covering my eyes and blurring my vision. They fell down racing towards my chin on either side with each sob.

Storming off, I collapsed on the foot of my bed, soaking myself in this river of flowing tears, feeling deep breaths sojourn from me as my body rose and fell. The hot boiling liquid peppered like that of the one from a few evenings ago.

He sat across the extravagant dining table that stretched between us. His eyes bulky as he rolled his fork around the bowl of spaghetti rather than fitting it in his mouth.

"What's wrong, babe. You're not eating?" I asked in between mouthfuls of spaghetti.

He hung my questions unanswered, still toying with his food with a face despondent of any feeling.

"Greg," I called out.

"I lost the client, okay! The company is going bankrupt," he replied with a hard smack against the table as he stood up.

The smack sent a jolt of shock rummaging through my body as my hand latched on to my drumming heart.

"Babe, we can talk about this gently. It's not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say," he replied with a snivel, dragging off his coat from the chair as he dashed off.

"Greg," I said, chasing after him that evening just as I did now but he never responded, he never even spared me a glance. Even when he mounted the stairs I grabbed him by the wrist and he tossed away my arm, sending me crashing down the staircase.

"Violet," he screamed, picking my head from the ground.

"I'm sorry he said, rubbing my throbbing head that echoed the hammers of each rough landing. He placed me against his chest still caressing my skull when a gasp left my mouth.

The red liquid streamed out from my thigh and although painless they dragged out bouts of cascading bitter tears as I buried my face in him.

He saw them too. His eyes couldn't bare the sight as he looked up to the ceilings. It was five weeks old when it melted away in the flow of a river of blood.