EVOL

by Cynthia A. Rodriguez

  “I called you because I needed to give you your daily reminder to tell him.”

  “Fine! But only to get you off my fucking back,” I tell her before I hang up. No Dunkies for me, no goodbye for you.

  I scroll through my photos and pull up the picture of the positive pregnancy test that I took two days ago. When I found out I was pregnant.

  Sabrina had been waiting outside the bathroom door and I was too afraid to open it and show her, so I took the picture and sent it. She ended up breaking into the bathroom anyway, volleying between wondering how the fuck we’d raise a child without its father in the country and complete and utter happiness.

  The psychopath.

  It’s all been a blur since, with Sabrina being the only person in the world to know.

  And she’s right. I do have to tell Gavin. Rather than handle this with a long and drawn out conversation, I opt for ripping off the Band-Aid. It’s always been my preferred method.

  Me: I have to tell you something.

  The text sits there, staring back at me like, so, are we gonna tell him?

  And before I can chicken out, I send the picture of the positive test.

  The man messages back instantly.

  Gavin: Is that real?

  Me: Of course.

  And then he calls.

  “Hello?”

  “You’re pregnant.” It sounds so simple, but the statement is only the beginning of complicated.

  “Seems that way,” I tell him as I maneuver through my apartment to get ready for my day.

  He breathes on the phone all while I curl my hair, pull my skirt over my hips, adjust my patterned tights, and push my hoops through the holes in my ears.

  “Are you keeping it?” he finally asks.

  “That isn’t even a question for me,” I tell him. “You know more than anyone in the world that if I got pregnant, I was going to keep it.

  His sigh sounds disappointed.

  “Take some time, feel it all out—”

  “How long have you known?”

  I close my eyes and figure out the best way to tell him that I hadn’t told him immediately.

  “A few days. Kind of had to wrap my brain around it first.”

  He’s silent again and I have to look at my phone to make sure he hasn’t hung up on me in anger.

  “I should’ve known as soon as you knew. As soon as you thought you might’ve been. There had to have been signs, something that made you think you were.”

  “Well, yeah. But you and I haven’t exactly been speaking these days.”

  Since you’re so busy now. I want to say it. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but it isn’t something that’s going to push the conversation forward in a positive way, so I refrain.

  I brush my lashes with my mascara wand a few times. He’s on speaker at this point and when I’m mulling over today’s lipstick, he starts breathing heavily again.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” he answers. “I just got here. My parents are under the impression that I’m going to find a Pakistani woman to marry while I’m here. They don’t even know that you exist.”

  His words hurt. To have been a part of his life and not realize just how small that part was . . . it hurts.

  “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do this,” I whisper. “Regardless of your situation. And . . . you are under no obligation to do this with me, if you can’t handle it.”

  I’m at this delicately balanced place in my life, where I can either do what’s best for me and for what’s to come, or I can do what’s best for Gavin and possibly live my life with immense regret.

  After all, it isn’t like we’re married. He could very well meet a Pakistani girl and fall in love and that would be that. While that wasn’t his intention, it isn’t like what we’re facing now was intentional.

  “Maybe it’s best you forget this and me . . . and marry a Pakistani woman. That could very well be your life. A better life for you.”

  I look at my reflection in the mirror. This mascara isn’t waterproof and it’s now running down my face.

  “I don’t want anyone else, Denise. I still . . . only want you.”

  But you don’t want what comes with me now, I want to say. I don’t know what keeps me from saying it.

  Other than the fact that I wasn’t just me anymore and that wasn’t going to change, it makes this whole situation feel like do or die. And I never want to back Gavin in a corner.

  I’d rather be his choice than his obligation.

  “Take some time and figure it out,” I tell him one more time.

  And then I hang up the phone.

  I message Sabrina.

  Me: I told him. And then I told him he didn’t have to stick around.

  Sabrina: Yeah right. I’ll kick his ass myself.

  I don’t respond.

  There were enough words said today; words that felt like little needles poking at my heart.

  Subtle shifts.

  Who knew that giving you my body

  Meant it would no longer belong to me?

  Day 314

  Deep breaths, Denise. Deep breaths.

  I’m sitting on my bathroom floor, wondering what in the fuck I did to get here. Actually, no. I know exactly what I did . . . in so many different positions.

  My hands go to my face, which I’m sure is pink.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  Nothing in this world will convince me otherwise.

  “Holy shit, it’s been way past the requisite three minutes. Are you dead?”

  Sabrina is hollering outside my bathroom door, not realizing I’m having a mental breakdown in here.

  “Calm your liver, lady,” I bark at the door. I stand up, and it’s like I already know what this damn test is going to say. I know it . . . damn it, I know it’s going to say . . .

  I look at the white plastic with the blue cap and sure enough, the word pregnant is looking back at me.

  Fuuuuuck.

  “Well?”

  I snap a picture, maybe hoping that the result will change in the photo and my brain is just playing tricks on me.

  I send it to Sabrina and once I hear the ping of an incoming message and her squeal of delight, I know I’m fucked even harder than what landed me in this mess.

  “Open the door,” she says, excitement in her voice.

  I don’t say anything as I sink to the floor.

  “Denise? Open the door, weirdo.”

  I’m silent as I wonder just how fat people get when they’re pregnant.

  “Open the damn door!” She kicks at it just when I remember I have to tell Gavin.

  What the fuck. We haven’t talked much in the last few days. It’s like he moved to Pakistan and forgot all about me.

  The doorknob jiggles and I’m so deep in fucked-up thoughts that I don’t realize she’s made her way until she sets the butter knife used to break-in on the counter.

  Sabrina squats down in front of me and pushes my hair from my face.

  “I don’t know what the fuck we’re gonna do about Gavin but we’re gonna have a baby!”

  And then I throw up right on her expensive strappy sandals.

  You only take me seriously when I reach for my bag,

  When I head toward the door,

  When I start the car,

  When I’m halfway ready to say goodbye.

  Day 310

  I don’t believe that long-distance relationships are for the faint of heart. They aren’t for the people who sit around and don’t have many friends. They aren’t for those who’d made entirely too much room in their lives for their relationship, that once the person is gone, there’s only empty space.

  In short, they’re not meant for someone like me.

  “Oh, lighten up,” Sabrina says, a little out of breath. “Here comes Draya!”

  I can see all of her curly hair bouncing as she rushes toward us.

  “My babies,” she shrieks, her arms outstretched to
hug us both.

  We’re all in workout gear, but Draya somehow manages to look cute and sporty in her set while I feel boyish and dowdy in mine. And let’s not even get started on Sabrina beside me.

  I welcome the hug with a grin. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, but it always felt like time never passed when we all got back together.

  “I know you’re sad about Gavin but I’m kinda happy because I get my friend back!” She squeezes my cheeks and hugs me again.

  I pout but I’m so happy to see her. Sabrina coordinated this hike of ours, figuring I’d need a busy schedule to keep me from obsessing over the fact that Gavin has been gone for a couple weeks and contact hasn’t been as frequent as we’d said it would.

  I check my phone and Sabrina glares at me.

  “No phones,” she says as we make our way up the trail. She holds out her hand, but I shake my head.

  “Only way you’re getting this is if you manage to push my ass over this cliff.”

  Draya laughs and my lips form a smile, despite my sincerity. No one’s taking this damn phone from me.

  “I love you two. Always makes me wish I had a sister.”

  “I know typical fashion is to offer your own, but you can’t have mine.” Sabrina’s response has me chuckling. “But I still love you, Draya.”

  Draya shakes her head and they get into shop talk. They work at the same design firm, but we’ve known Draya since we were all kids. Once her family had an idea about what’d been going on in our home, they opened theirs to us.

  “How’s Yiayia,” Draya asks and I choose this moment to check my phone. Not a conversation I want to be a part of.

  When I see a text from Gavin, I smile.

  Gavin: Just got in. Going to sleep. Night.

  And then my smile is gone. No call, no attempting to talk. Is this what things were going to be like between us now?

  The gravel crunches under our feet as we make our way higher and I tuck my phone back in my jacket pocket.

  Sabrina and Draya are still talking about my mother’s mother, so I remain quiet.

  “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to them?” Draya asks. I want so badly to tell her that this isn’t a topic I wanted to discuss, but it’s been so long since we’ve hung out that I don’t want to make it awkward.

  “Uhh . . . seven years?”

  More silence, but this time on their part.

  “Do you think you’ll ever—”

  “You know,” I interrupt her, “I don’t think so. And . . . I don’t really want to discuss this.”

  She trades a look with Sabrina and I feel like this was a setup.

  “Don’t be bullies, guys,” I say, having had enough.

  “Cut it out, Den—”

  “No, it’s bullshit. Stop using Draya for your own agenda, man. It’s shitty and it’s underhanded and I have a hell of a lot more respect for you than to accept that bullshit behavior.”

  Sabrina’s eyes widen the more I say until I’m done. Once I am, I start walking faster to get ahead of them.

  I wasn’t going to be anyone’s special fucking case. My life doesn’t need fixing and the fact that Sabrina thinks the cure for my melancholy is fitting shitty people into my life makes me wonder if she knows me at all.

  Me: I wish you were up and we could talk.

  Gavin is the one person who’d be able to listen and tell me exactly what I needed to hear, whether I wanted to or not.

  He doesn’t answer and by the time they catch up to me, I’m just sad.

  My phone is in my hand and I already have a message typed out, ready to send.

  Me: I feel like you don’t want to do this. And I’m not going to try to hold on to someone who doesn’t want to be held onto.

  I send it and just as they walk up behind me, I shove it into my pocket.

  “We’re sorry,” Draya says on my right, and places her arm over my shoulder.

  “Yeah. Sorry,” Sabrina mutters and takes my left hand.

  I sputter out a laugh at Sabrina’s sad little apology.

  “Whatever, guys. I’m just a little sensitive these days.”

  I rub my right boob with a wince.

  “Period coming?” Sabrina asks.

  “Yeah. When is yours due?”

  “Just got it yesterday.”

  I frown. We usually get ours on the same day, like clockwork. I’ve been known to get it a day before or afterward but still . . .

  My nipples are sore. Not something I’m used to.

  We keep walking and I don’t mention anything again until we’re in Sabrina’s car.

  “I might be late,” I tell her as I put on my seatbelt.

  “Could be stress. You’ve been stressing out about Gavin a lot since he left.”

  “You’re right.” I take a deep breath and nod once. That has to be it.

  We’re nearly home when I get a text notification.

  Gavin: What are you talking about? I’m just busy.

  Gavin: I’ll call you later, love.

  Gavin: Relax.

  Texts from him after he’d already said he was going to sleep. I want to send angry messages, asking him what he’d been doing and why he isn’t putting any effort into this anymore. But I only ignore them, intent on focusing on something other than him for once.

  His words offer no peace.

  “If you don’t get your period in a few days, just take a test,” Sabrina suggests, slicing through the silence in the car.

  My heart stops at the thought.

  “I don’t think . . .”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to do it, just in case.”

  I shrug but she has no idea what turmoil her tiny little suggestion has started within me.

  We weren’t careful before he left.

  We were fucking fools.

  Your heart is such a barbed thing.

  But I know it wasn’t always.

  You placed every thorn meticulously,

  As if you knew one day I’d come along,

  Willing to prick my fingers just to get a touch.

  Day 308

  “I’m sick of not hearing from you, Gavin.” I’m pacing around my bedroom in his boxers and T-shirt. It’s all I can do to keep me from falling into a pitiful state.

  I glance at my messy bed, at his blanket tossed in among the sheets.

  I’m surrounded by his things but where is he?

  Why isn’t he trying?

  “I have long days here. And when I’m not working, I’m taking care of my parents. That’s why they sent for me, Denise. Fahmida has a husband and young children. They’re running the restaurant, so I have to be here.”

  “You’re telling me things I already know. I know your mother can’t come here so you had to take care of your parents in Pakistan. I know about your sister.” I take a moment. “But what I don’t know is what you’re doing. I don’t know if you’re going on dates. I don’t know if you’re stringing me along like some sort of back-up plan.”

  “Come on, Denise. You know me better than that.”

  “I thought I did. But here we are.”

  “I’m trying to figure out how best to do this. To make everyone happy, including you.” His words sound so sincere. “I just need you to bear with me.”

  I sit on my bed and tuck my feet under me.

  “Bear with you while you search for the love of your life?”

  “Why are you being so difficult?”

  No amount of deep breaths can talk me off of the platform I’ve placed myself on. It’s a dangerous, teetering one. One that could easily cause me to fall and crush the very relationship I’m fighting for.

  “Because I love you, Gavin. And I’m no good at loving someone who doesn’t know how to love me back.”

  He’s quiet and I feel like maybe I’d gone too far.

  I never had the fear when he was here; that I’d gone so far that he wouldn’t follow. Our love didn’t work like that. At least, not when he was here.

  “
I’m scared,” I whisper. “What if you find someone? What then?”

  “Denise, I only want you. I keep telling you this. But the more we fight, the more I’m going to pull away.”

  His words make me want to cry. I’m being set up for failure because I’m a fighter. I’d willingly pull him from the trenches with only my bones as cover if it meant we could work things out. I’d fight him, anyone, to sustain the love we’d started right here in my apartment.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “Don’t pull away.”

  “Don’t push me away, then.”

  His words sound so callous, like loving too hard is a crime, something he doesn’t have a tolerance for.

  And here I am, apologizing for being who I’d always been; the woman he fell in love with.

  I call Sabrina after we hang up, crying.

  When I express my concerns to her, she asks me one question that makes me pause.

  “Did he assure you that he isn’t seeing other women?”

  I sniff and shake my head before telling her he didn’t.

  “He said he only wanted me. But not that he wasn’t going on dates and stuff. This is so good for my self-esteem,” I say wryly. “I’m competing with women I know nothing about.”

  Sabrina curses before taking a breath.

  “There will always be women who are prettier and smarter than you, Denise. It isn’t your job to worry about winning when faced with them. It’s his job to make sure you never feel like there’s a competition to begin with.”

  “I just don’t know how we even got here,” I say to myself, despite knowing full well Sabrina can hear me. “We were perfectly fine before he left. Even up to the day he left.”

  She chuckles.

  “The sooner you understand that most men can only focus on what’s right in front of them, the better off you’ll be.”

  There are no good or bad byes.

  There’s only the breath leaving my lungs,

  And this hand gripping yours,

  Even as I feel your palm starting to slide away from mine.

  There’s only the tears falling from my eyes,

  and my quivering lips that want to kiss yours one last time.