by Renee Ryder
“What happened?” She felt concerned.
“While I was driving, I started wondering, ‘Is she gonna call? Or not gonna call? Call? Not call?’ My stomach was in knots. Then, ‘What if a busboy throws it away and she doesn’t see it?’ I was going to get in an accident! I thought about it and … I can’t go through any more of this, for even a day. A half hour of torture was enough.”
He had spoken staring straight at her, and those eyes confirmed what she’d sensed in his voice; this wasn’t just a typical attempt at hitting on a waitress like Lauren had figured. He was driven by a sincere interest in her. Sure of it, she relaxed back into teasing him.
“Are you telling me I’m a cause of stress for you?”
“I’m telling you that I need to know if you’ll come out to coffee with me or not. If it’s no, I’ll deal with it. At least until the next time I come smudge up a napkin for you!”
The coffee was had, moving on later to their first kiss, to their first night together (after a fun evening watching the whole Back to the Future saga), to him taking her on an unforgettable dinner cruise around Puget Sound. She could still see the sun turning the sky into a thousand colors as it set behind the mountains; then they ate lobster and drank Chardonnay while the lights of the city reflected on the water in a colorful display, showing them Seattle as she’d never seen it before.
Thinking about Ryan made all the emotion from that night come back. And, like pulling on the thread of a sweater, her feelings about all the most beautiful parts of his personality unraveled—his sense of humor, his passion, his protective love, his depth of spirit. Tangled up in these memories was also the first test—an actual test—of their relationship, early on, during a terrifying time when all future plans for both her personal life and her career hung in the balance, below her mother’s looming shadow.
“Ryan, we need to talk,” she told him one Friday night at the end of January, when he came to pick her up for a concert.
“Uh-oh! I’ve gotta go.”
“Please don’t joke right now.”
Evidently she’d done too good of a job at masking the anguish that had been killing her all week.
“Sorry, Hannah. What’s up?”
“Um, what’s up. That’s the …” she started, letting the torment in her soul seep into her voice. “By now it’s been a week … I thought if I just waited maybe it would work out fine … It’s the first time … And I thought that … that—”
“Just hang on,” he interrupted her, his voice soothing despite her distress. “Take a deep breath.”
“—that if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be real and … and …”
“Hannah, calm down. Just relax … There you go. Come here,” he added, gently pulling her by the hands to sit with him on the bed.
She followed him, controlling her irritation at his sexist attitude and holding back the tears in her eyes.
They sat side by side, with him still holding her hands, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs to comfort her.
“Okay, then. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know how to tell you. I don’t know what you’ll think and … and I have no one who can help me!”
“Hannah, don’t say that. I’m here for—”
She shut her eyes. Now or never.
“—you. You don’t have to worry about anythi—”
“I’m late.”
“Huh?”
“My period. It’s been eight days.”
When she re-opened her eyes, she saw his whole body had gone stiff with shock. Aggression took hold of her.
“Do you get what I’m saying?”
“But … But we’ve been so careful,” he stammered, pale. “Am I wrong?”
“New Year’s. Remember, the condom broke?”
“Yeah, but … but you rushed into the bathroom and … and …”
“And obviously it didn’t work!” she shot back, not sure if she was angry about her situation or his reaction.
“Did you take a pregnancy test?”
“This morning.”
“And …?”
“What do you think?” she answered, tone acerbic.
“Okay. But we know those tests aren’t always accurate.”
“Actually, they are.”
He turned even paler. He remained quiet for an eternity of seconds, then …
“Okay, Hannah. I think, before assuming anything, you should make an appointment at the docto—”
“Ryan!” she raised her voice, releasing the tension that had accumulated waiting for his answer.
She looked at him in his spineless confusion. He was making her feel alone and abandoned. “What will become of me? Of my career?” she moaned, weeping now as he stood up. He stayed near her but turned toward the window. “This year started out so well! I finally found a job I wanted, and now I have to go to Alex and tell him and … just … I don’t wanna end up like my mother. Damn it! Now what am I gonna do?”
When he turned back to face her, something had changed in his expression. He took her hands again, tugging her up with him.
She followed his lead and let him hug her. She bristled with anger and the instinct to attack him, but at the same time she desperately needed his support. So she surrendered to his caresses and waited.
“Hannah, I’m sorry. I came to pick you up for the concert and just didn’t expect to become a daddy, hahaha!”
Had he really laughed? Sure she was calmer now, but from shock.
She squirmed around to look him in the face. His placid look stopped her.
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he told her in a mild but resolute tone of voice that confirmed what she saw in his eyes. “We’re going to the pharmacy to get another test and, if it comes out positive again, we’ll get you in to the doctor. But, Hannah, you don’t have to worry about anything. Whatever happens, whatever you need, however you want to go forward … I’m here with you. We can face anything together, right?”
And they’d only been dating for five months! It was in that very moment that she knew what a truly good man she’d found. Three weeks later at the doctor’s appointment they discovered she was losing the pregnancy, but during that time Ryan had shown her beyond any doubt that he really cared for her and she could always count on him. He wouldn’t leave at the first sign of stormy weather.
Enough, Hannah! You’ll never make it to tomorrow if you keep on like this, she told herself, reopening the guide book.
Going back to deliberating over the possible activities they could do together, she realized that it only kept her thoughts in orbit around Ryan.
She decided to write him a text message.
Hey, Ry. Have a great trip. Can’t wait till you’re here with me. I love you
That done, she resolved to find something unrelated to him to keep herself busy. Mindful of the idea she’d had after the morning conversation with Nico, she found a pen and notebook in her suitcase and sat down at the desk. She was confident in her ability to understand Italian and was convinced that, in spite of the confusion about ci, she’d be able to get by just fine. But some of the phrases Nico had used brought to the forefront some of the linguistic gaps that she’d been dragging her feet over for years. Already dedicated to improving her vocabulary and grammar—she used to have a hard time with the tenses but she got them now—she hadn’t really penetrated into the tricky world of idioms.
‘Have a hard time’ … how do they say that? she wondered, a smile on her lips remembering Nico’s laughter at ‘hard feelings.’ She reached for her cell phone to look up the Italian equivalents for some common sayings on her new app.
After almost an hour, between astonishment at some of the similarities and entertainment at truly bizarre differences, she’d filled up a good three pages with phrases. Then she went on YouTube.
Watching videos in Italian reminded her of some basics that she’d blanked on in her an
xiety to justify herself to Nico. She’d definitely do better next time she spoke to someone.
A knock knock interrupted her.
“Come in,” she called, placing her phone on the desk.
It was Susan. By her tight smile, plus the ensuing silence after entering, clearly something was bothering her.
“Everything alright?” she asked, standing up and moving closer.
“Um, no.”
She didn’t know how to react when Susan continued standing near the door, so she tried to look encouraging.
“Ryan called me a few minutes ago.”
“He called you?” she repeated, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to reach him since dinner, but he hasn’t ever answered. He must be at the airport, so I figured he has no signa—”
“He’s not at the airport, dear.”
Susan delivered this gently, but a veil of bad news shadowed her face.
“Did something happen to him?” She blanched, feeling her eyes fill at the tragic scenes that flashed through her mind.
“No, dear, no. No! He’s fine,” Susan hastened to reassure her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “He just had a setback at work. He said something about some software, an installation, programmers … I don’t understand very much about these things. The point is, he can’t come tomorrow.”
“What?” she cried out. The tears immediately dried, and ice began to spread through her heart.
“He told me he has to remain in Tacoma to resolve the problems.”
These words lit a rage that grew with supersonic speed to the verge of explosion. But she didn’t explode, because Susan’s presence dampened the fuse. Not from fear of being pissed off in front of her, but more because she simply couldn’t hold onto her rage with Susan there. If Ryan weren’t her son, it would have been the perfect occasion to test out the bond they’d built over the last two days by asking for some advice.
“He said to tell you that he feels horrible about it. So horrible, and knows he did something so wrong, that he didn’t have the courage to call you. But when he gets here, he swore to me that he’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
With the disapproval on Susan’s face and Ryan’s own admission of guilt, the fuse inside her reignited. However, it went out again right away and she remained quiet because, after hearing what he’d told Susan, she could smell the bullshit and didn’t feel like she could control the terrible words that threatened to overflow from her heart. She gritted her teeth to hold them back so Susan wouldn’t suspect the degree of her inner tumult.
“I can imagine how you feel, dear. But what can I do? I tried to reason with him, because in your place I’d be seeing red.”
“I know, Sue. Don’t worry, I won’t shoot the messenger.” She forced herself to be diplomatic and at the same time stifle the nonsensical thought of wanting to add that expression to her list. “It’s just that … I don’t know.”
“Hannah, I’m truly sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t understand why Ryan would have pulled me into the middle of this.”
She had an idea, but kept it to herself—no mother wants to hear her child insulted.
“I know him,” Susan continued. “He’s a conscientious guy and this isn’t how he usually operates. When he said that a lot of people are counting on him and he can’t leave them in the lurch, I put myself in his shoes. And I can see his point. But if I put myself in your shoes …” She trailed off with a quick shake of the head. “I think I’d better go now. You know, it might have been a long time ago, but I was a girl your age, too. So I can understand if you want to be alone for awhile. But if there’s anything you need, please, come get me. Promise?” Susan added, taking her by the shoulders.
“Okay. I promise, Sue. You’re an angel.”
After Susan left, she turned out the light and threw herself on the bed in bitter anger.
“ ‘You’re my sun … I was so wrong to ever choose work over you …’ What an asshole!” she muttered to her pillow, clenching her fists as if ready to start throwing punches.
She had an overwhelming desire to call Ryan and accuse him of being an insensitive and cowardly charlatan. But what good would that do? Only change the rage into frustration, because he’d still be in Tacoma. He wouldn’t be able to get his butt on that damn plane to Frankfurt, even if he wanted to.
Liar! Hypocrite! Con artist!
The streetlights cast eerie shadows across the ceiling. It seemed like a parade of monsters, but for how she felt at the moment, even if they’d been real monsters she wouldn’t have cared.
She was drowning in a whirlpool of emotions, each different than the others, but every one causing her pain. He hadn’t left with them, which was already unacceptable; but now to be putting off his departure another … how many days? She was so upset she hadn’t even thought to ask Susan when—or if—he would arrive.
Sue! Why the fuck did he call his mom?!
This thought was an injection of fury that boiled her blood.
He didn’t even have the balls to tell me himself!
The idea popped into her head of throwing in the towel and leaving on the first flight for Seattle, forget them all! She knew, though, that she never would have done it. Besides the practical and financial obstacles in finding a ticket, what would Susan think about her leaving? That just stressed her out more. Then she thought about how stupid she’d been to have planned out their Thursday with such love, carefully considering his fatigue for Wednesday … and what had he done? She was running through all those romantic dreams in her head and, meanwhile, he had betrayed her for work.
Fuck you, Ryan. Fuck. You.
Suddenly she felt something else as the tears began trickling down her cheeks; the upsetting thing was connected to the word ‘work.’ Ryan had shown with his actions that she was no longer his priority. Words had their charm and he’d used them masterfully to touch her heart, but only actions reflected the truth. And Doubting Thomas came to mind again …
But it’s also true that nothing like this has happened in the last two years, either.
Love’s survival instinct, frightened away by the torrent of recent events that drowned her reason, must have thrown her this life preserver. And she clung to it, finding herself unconsciously valuing the importance of the startup that he was planning to create.
She was still furious about his behavior, but slightly less than before, if she pictured him as her husband one day, with Susan’s blessing …
She looked at the clock on the nightstand. Ten fifteen.
Maybe venting these feelings would be better. But not to Susan.
Lauren! … No, she’s at work right now.
However, the main thing holding her back from that phone call was her sense of guilt. Lately she’d been self-focused in their conversations, saying much but listening little. So she considered the option of Keisha; surely she’d be comforted, possibly even get some useful advice. When she turned to the nightstand to reach for her phone, she stopped.
Keisha’s never bothered you with problems about her ex-husband! Buck up, Hannah. Handle it by yourself! Don’t bug anyone else. Everyone has their own problems.
She looked at the clock again. Ten seventeen.
Damn! she thought with sinking spirits.
Other than frustration at how slowly time moved, it depressed her to realize she would be overanalyzing Ryan and this situation until she at last fell asleep. And maybe later on, too, because ultimately dreams are like a hand of cards your mind deals out only after shuffling all of your feelings and memories.
10. Apathy
Roger sat at the kitchen table, browsing through the overseas news on his phone, and Susan was starting the coffee when Hannah came in.
She watched them, but felt distant, like she wasn’t actually in the kitchen. Instead, the despondent feeling of still lying in bed seemed more real, under the weak breeze of the air-conditioner, her eyes fixated blankly on the cu
rtains that filtered out the morning light. She felt the solitude of her room deeply, as if she’d sent a mindless clone to breakfast in her place.
The sleepless night had left her empty and deprived of all energy. She was only dressed because she hadn’t changed out of her shirt and shorts from yesterday. Her appearance seemed normal, but if it had reflected her state of mind, she would look blue and debilitated. Ryan had hit her with a right hook that, besides causing terrible pain at the time, afterwards left her in such a state of confusion that it would end a match—not by knockout, but because she was staggering around the ring and the referee didn’t think it should continue. She couldn’t call herself angry or devastated. “Apathetic” best described it. She didn’t even turn on her phone to check for new messages.
She sat and drank coffee with them, giving Roger the egg that Susan had fried for her. Both of them tried to impart their enthusiasm for the day they were about to have in the little marina neighborhood, probably to take her mind off of Ryan. That’s most likely why they didn’t say a word about him. She responded in monosyllables, nods, and fake smiles, hoping they couldn’t tell she had merely joined them out of politeness. The only thing she really wanted was to curl up on the bed, hug her pillow, and turn off her brain for a while.
“No, Roger. No. You can’t wear those socks with your sandals! You look funny.”
“But they’re comfortable. And my feet won’t get sunburned.”
“Then just wear your sneakers!”
“In this heat? No way. I’ll be more comfortable in sandals.”
“Oh, you are impossible! At least wear low-cut socks, those knee-highs look like you’re ready for some lederhosen.”
She sipped her coffee, feeling affection toward them. Clearly they were putting on an act to distract her. And it would have worked if the wound to her heart hadn’t been so deep.
After that, the anticipated showdown came right on time …
“Are you ready for the beach, dear?”
“No, Sue. I don’t really feel myself this morning. My head is spinning a bit, but it’s nothing that rest won’t cure. You two go. Enjoy the beautiful day and the sea. Don’t worry about me.”