can't change the past

Vincenzo Moreno

I knew for a fact I liked Rina. I admired her with every bit of my being. The breath she exhaled—I could comfortably take in. The floor she walked on, a spot my lips could kiss.

It beat me how the feelings hadn't died considering I had slept with her. Rather than lose interest and see her as nothing more than a cheap fuck I had at my disposal, I became more drawn to her. More fascinated with her. I couldn't place a finger on the defining feature, but Rina was everything a guy would want in a woman.

I threw my closet open and picked up an outfit. Flinging it to the bed, I stood akimbo and stared.

I imagined Rina seated here. On the bed, with a magazine in her hand. She looked up from what could be a write-up about Women's Health. Not that I knew what she liked; but she looked like someone who read such.

She blessed my sight with a beautiful smile and there I was, crawling close. Going to offer a token of my love to her. It was a kiss motivated by anything but lust. And I knew it wasn't enough to express my feelings.

I could do anything for her because what I felt was strong.

I tore away from the wishful thought, nursing a tender heart, and got dressed. My mood dimmed when I spotted my breakfast.

I'd have been the happiest person alive had Rina served the food at least. Now, one could imagine the joy that'd come with her eating with me. My God would I make her the queen she was.

I was curious. Was she quiet when she ate? Did she fancy random talks on the table? A slower eater?

Whatever be the case, it'd have been fun. I'd have ensured she enjoyed my company. I'd have done so much more because she was mine. And I liked her.

My fingers curled around the cup of latté.

Sadly, I was in a tight spot. The latest development was a trial. A test of loyalty, that was by no means fair!

I was being bastardized, painted as a wicked, vicious bastard, when that wasn't the case at all. I wanted Rina. I loved her, but this pregnancy had come at the wrong time.

There hadn't even been a plan for that. I'd have had Rina all to myself, yes, but without some tiny little monster.

The latté slid down my throat.

And yes, I could have gotten her pregnant. I believed I was the person responsible, not another. Because Rina sleeping with a different person was an idea that should not exist.

I managed to get some bread into my mouth but there was no appetite. One, they were tasteless. Two, were hard, and three, I was a mess.

I was stuck. From the bottom of my heart, I regretted speaking harshly to Rina. The little penance I had done was simply a waste of time because the hurt was still there. My fists had healed but the wound in my heart widened day by day.

And my newest enemy now was me. This slobby, foolish, careless, motherfucker seated right here eating while his. . . girl stayed alone. I'd asked myself over and over, what had led me to sleep with Rina that night. And how the fuck had I forgotten to use protection.

I had been wishing —and couldn't stop—that I'd be given the chance to change the past.

I gave up eating and picked myself off the couch. It was a difficult task preventing the door opposite my lounge from bringing in memories.

I went my way, feeling hollow and reached the second floor. Right as I left the staircase, a door down the hall opened. I glanced unwittingly at its direction, and just at that point, the indifference printed on my face changed to uneasiness.

I didn't know what pulled my gaze away and pushed me forward. I simply saw myself descending the stairs; being an audience to the pitter patter my heart made.

I hastened towards my car and basked in the shelter it provided. Yet, an ominous feeling still made its way in. The pack house wasn't safe for me anymore. I could swear in my life that I'd caught a frown in Rina's mom. Even though we locked gazes within seconds.

Had Rina told her that she was pregnant? Or even worse…

That I was responsible?

"No," I muttered. Absolutely not. Rina wouldn't dare. No, she wasn't that type of person. She didn't have the balls.

"Fuck." I laid back in the seat, doing it again. Ruing that day.

I'd messed up and now, here I was. In a quicksand. And Rina. . . What the fuck would happen when her belly began to grow? Five months could descend like hail. What the fuck do I do?

What would Madre do? Chase Rina away? Fire her?

"God," I groaned, raising my hands to my face. I knew what Madre would do; before I knew it, one shaky sob broke from me. Another followed, and in no time, I rested on the steering, mourning my loss.

I was done holding back my tears. I couldn't go on pretending like nothing affected me, especially when it involved the only person that meant so much to me.

I would lose her. Permanently this time. There'd be no chasing after or pleading or long silent drive back home. I would truly lose her, and this life I was so tired of.