It is the passion and warmth in Angelina’s embrace that makes me stay when logic tells me to leave. Angelina, Nina, claims my breath and heartbeat belong to her that I belong to her. I want to believe to have faith in her love for me. It’s hard to focus when I am dizzy from her scent and intoxicated from her taste.
She likes us to lay close, naked; bellies pressed together so that I can feel her expanding womb. I feel the soul growing inside her and sometimes my heart aches with sadness. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into her. Whispering that it would have been mine had I not been born in the wrong shaped body. Convincing me that the love I give her is imprinting itself upon the 16-week fetus. She urges me to believe that our shared orgasms can overwrite DNA with the constant release of hormones. So I allow myself to accept it as truth.
I punch the concrete block fence long after my knuckles are raw and bloody. I drown with self-doubt and uncertainty whenever Angelina goes to see him. She says she does it to please her mother so that she doesn’t get suspicious of our relationship. I want her to tell her mother about us. I don’t want to be a secret. I may only be 15 but unlike Nina I can’t just live in the moment, I need to make a plan if she expects me to care for her and the baby. I walk back home.