Bulletproof

by Maci Bookout

  I could have said that outright. But I didn’t. And maybe that was why he seemed to think it didn’t matter if he was around or not. Maybe he just didn’t know what to do, or he was afraid of screwing up, so he decided not to try. Maybe that was what fueled the distance between him and me and Bentley. It was possible. Unfortunately, we were both people who didn’t express our emotions freely. We didn’t communicate as well as we should have, and if that didn’t make it worse, it definitely didn’t make it better.

  My parents had stayed together when they’d been in this situation. I thought Ryan and I could do the same. We were struggling, but they’d struggled, too. They had made it, so there was no reason we couldn’t come out the other end. It seemed simple enough to me. If anybody else could do it, couldn’t we do it? Wasn’t that obvious? It didn’t matter. I started to worry that I’d pushed all the fear and negative emotions aside for so long, I hadn’t been entirely realistic with myself. I wasn’t prepared for how much of a change having a baby was. I wasn’t ready to see it cause such an ugly reaction. Certainly not from the father.

  There were a few months after Bentley was born and things had gone south where we had both acknowledged we weren’t in a good relationship, but we agreed we were going to work it out for Bentley. Unfortunately, things never got better. Eventually there wasn’t even enough of a connection for us to rescue. If we had still felt a bond and were still in love, I could have fixed things he didn’t like and he could have fixed things I didn’t like. But there was no mutual desire to build on.

  It got to the point where I didn’t recognize our relationship anymore. I didn’t recognize him. He seemed to be a completely different person. And I had changed, too, drastically. Both of our lives had changed drastically. But no matter what, I was still Maci. Where had Ryan gone? Where was the nice, easygoing, courteous guy who’d shown so much respect and interest? I didn’t understand what had fundamentally changed between us, or within him. But we were miserable together. And when Bentley was asleep and I sat down on the couch to zone out in front of the TV, I felt so alone. It started to settle in: Now it’s just you and this baby, and you don’t have anyone else.

  Whatever Bentley was doing, I was doing. I’d wake up and feed him, watch TV, and we’d just sit around. Babies sleep a lot. So it was just days full of feeding him and watching TV. I tried not to let myself get really depressed about it, but it was very, very lonely. Even when I did manage to see my friends once in awhile and hang out and do things, I just felt lonely. I had no one to share my experience with. I had someone I was supposed to share it with, but he was always somewhere else. There were times when I just sat there at night and thought to myself, “How did you get here? Why is this happening?”

  I had no idea how things had gotten so toxic. But it was getting to be time to face the facts and deal with it. There was no getting around it: Something had to give. I got to a point where it was bouncing back and forth in my head. It was awful. I could either leave and be out of it and not have to deal with it anymore. Or, I could accept that this was just how it was, and hope that it would get better, hope that maybe when Bentley was older, his father would be more emotionally available. I didn’t want to give up. I didn’t consider failure an option. I didn’t want Bentley to have parents who weren’t together. I didn’t think that it was serious enough for me to leave, but I also worried that I’d lost perspective.

  We were just miserable together. We fought, and that was it. That was literally it. That environment wasn’t good for me, or him, or anyone. It wouldn’t be good for Bentley in the long run. Pretty soon I went from not wanting Bentley to have separated parents, to not wanting Bentley to have parents who argued all the time. And on a different level, I knew I could do better for myself, too. It got to a point where I thought to myself, “You can’t live like this forever. This isn’t you. You’re not going to settle for this.”

  A failing relationship is the kind of weight that builds up so gradually you don’t even notice it until it’s completely dragging you down. It’s almost an unpleasant shock to lose that burden, as freeing as it is. Giving up on that relationship was a difficult decision. It was the first point in my life when I realized that no matter how hard I worked, things weren’t always going to go the way that I had planned them. I had to swallow my pride and accept it.

  In December, when Bentley was a little more than a year old, Ryan and I finally called it quits.

  ***

  Maybe if Ryan and I had communicated better, it could have worked. But I came to believe that we wouldn’t have lasted anyway. The most we could have hoped for was to keep it alive longer, patching it up and dragging it along until there wasn’t even a dead horse left to beat. But in fact, it felt like we’d done that already. Even if we had turned around and started doing everything perfectly, there was no love left to back it up. We had grown too far apart, and we didn’t like each other anymore. I did miss the person I knew before everything changed, and it was hard for me to understand how we went from being so in love and obsessed with each other to literally hating each other. But I’d almost forgotten what the good times were like. All I knew was misery with him, and I’m sure that was all he knew with me, too.

  At first, before it all sank in, there was a huge sense of relief when that weight fell from my shoulders. It was time for the next chapter. The sun was shining and the air was fresh. But that happiness didn’t last for long. A few days later, I started to feel uncertain about the whole thing. Maybe I didn’t believe we would be broken up forever. A part of me hoped that the breakup would jar him into realizing what he was giving up. I hoped he would miss me and want us to be back together. I hoped he would realize he wanted to be a part of Bentley’s life and start to make it happen. So I wasn’t happy when I saw him move on as quickly as he did.

  Then, of course, I started to hear things. About the girls he had been talking to, and the places he’d been. I didn’t seek the information out, but I didn’t have to. Sometimes when you break up with someone, that stuff starts to trickle into your hearing range whether you want it to or not. There were many things I heard that I didn’t care to hear. I wasn’t shocked, but it wasn’t fun.

  Still, I knew I’d made the right decision. Life didn’t get easier in general, but I was glad to lose at least one painful problem. The biggest improvement that came out of the breakup was not having to fight anymore. Not just in terms of arguing with him, but in terms of pouring so much of my energy into saving a doomed relationship. I didn’t have to worry about what he was doing anymore. I didn’t have to worry about asking him for help and dealing with his anger. I didn’t have to worry if we got along at all. I was glad to be back in the light after spending so long in that tunnel of anger and sadness.

  But the bad stuff didn’t all disappear. Some of it just evolved. Even though he and I were completely over each other, we were still connected in one obvious way. Because we had a child together, there was no chance of having a normal breakup, closing the book and never looking back. We would still have to talk about Bentley and where he’d be each day, or, as it turned out, each weekend. Even after breaking up, that was one huge argument that refused to die. When I thought Bentley was going to visit his father for the weekend, I would sometimes make my own plans to visit friends or have a night or two to myself. But when I’d take Bentley to his grandparents’ house, his father was never there.

  It was infuriating for two reasons. First, because Ryan wasn’t appreciating the chance to spend time with him. Second, because that left me feeling guilty about doing my own thing. If Bentley was supposed to be with his dad and then his dad didn’t show, it didn’t feel right to just leave the little guy in the care of his grandparents. And it hurt to see him being stood up over and over. The only comfort was that he was too young to realize it. But it drove me crazy to see the days going by, Bentley getting older and growing up, and no progress being made in his relationship with his father. I couldn’t understand what I was witn
essing.

  I tried not to fight what I couldn’t change, but I felt so helpless and frustrated at times I wanted to rip my hair out. That was the hardest part of the breakup. I’d withdrawn myself from the relationship, but Bentley couldn’t. And so Bentley’s father’s bad behavior didn’t affect me on a relationship level anymore, but it hit me on a protective parenting level. That turned out to be way worse.

  I wasn’t afraid of being single. But I was afraid of being on the journey of parenthood alone and the battle that it was sure to become. And for the first time in my life, I found myself horribly lonely. I was supposed to be good at letting go of negative feelings, but it wasn’t as easy to distract myself anymore. If I’d been a “normal” eighteen year old girl, I would have called up some friends to go out and do something. But I had a kid to take care of. I couldn’t just go out every weekend or random nights and have fun all the time. And I accepted that. I still enjoyed being a mom, and I loved being around Bentley more than anything. But your baby can’t be your only company, and when he was asleep, I was on my own with the TV again.

  What was I going to do? I didn’t want Ryan back, and I wasn’t desperate for the next romance. It wasn’t about that. It was my feeling of being isolated from the rest of the world, like this new life of mine was taking place on a deserted island. Sometimes those lonely nights seemed endless.

  CHAPTER 10:

  THIS YEAR HAS BEEN A TEST

  this year has been a test for me

  and through all the times of betrayal

  i lost the person i used to be

  i sold her to the people around

  because my effort was spent on loyalty

  maybe i let her run away

  i miss the girl i used to be

  or maybe i forgot to please her

  in the midst of all the royalty

  everything i have to give is gone

  is this the payback I’m supposed to see

  but what if I’m not to blame

  i don’t know who i’m supposed to be

  was i supposed to fall apart like this

  without a root there is no tree

  CHAPTER 11:

  DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER

  When friends and family heard I was single again, they were surprised by the suddenness of it. Or, at least, what might have seemed like suddenness from the outside. But they could not have been all that shocked. No one tried to talk me into working things out with him. No one said much of anything, really. Probably because, as usual, I didn’t say much about it either.

  Despite the cloud of loneliness that was hanging over the back of my mind in general, I was glad to be single. It wasn’t like I’d totally lost the strength I’d always felt in being alone. And as an eighteen-year-old mom with no idea of what to do next, I could definitely benefit from having the space to think for myself and focus on stabilizing my life.

  Before I got pregnant I’d planned on culinary school, but so much for that. One of the first things anyone in the restaurant industry tells you is that it’s impossible to establish yourself without dedicating loads of time to work. It’s a notoriously difficult career to balance with a family life, and so it was out of the question for me. I wasn’t going to devote all my nights and weekends to work now that I had Bentley. It was that simple.

  With that plan off the menu, I wasn’t sure what I really wanted do next in terms of a career. But I felt a strong desire to take forward steps, so back when Ryan and I were still together, I enrolled in college for a general business dream. I had particular passion for business. I was just doing it because that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. And everyone knows that if you don’t know what to study, that’s the one to go for.

  I spent my first semester on campus. I went to school, showed up for class, then went home and did homework. It wasn’t exciting. It wasn’t like I wanted to be there, and I wasn’t taking classes I enjoyed. I was just going and taking my requisites, then going home. My mom had started working from home so she could take care of Bentley while I was at school. I felt bad about it. I knew it wasn’t her responsibility to care for my child all day while she was doing her work, too. I felt like I was pawning him off on her. And frankly, I hated being away from him. At the same time, I was generally exhausted from being up all night with him. With my complete lack of interest and enthusiasm for school, my fatigue, and my desire to be with Bentley, it was only a matter of time before the whole college effort fizzled. After a month and a half I dropped my classes to avoid failing.

  I knew I would go back to school, but I wanted to find something I was interested in before I tried to go back. Instead of going to class, I spent that spring and summer working for my dad and taking care of Bentley. Most of my days consisted of spending time with my baby, doing nothing. After awhile, I started to feel like a loser for dropping out. I criticized myself for the decision, wondering if I hadn’t tried hard enough, if I was just making excuses. A baby is a lot of work, but you can still accomplish things. Knowing how important it was to get a degree, I should have stuck it out. I was claiming I was busy, but I could have done online courses from home. And I had the privilege of working for my dad and having control over my schedule.

  But emotionally, and mentally, I just wasn’t there. I was overwhelmed by everything I’d gone through since I found out I was pregnant. There was no way for me to succeed in school when I wasn’t able to mentally check in. So I settled into a safer routine. It was all I could do until I came up with a better plan.

  ***

  Before I met Ryan, I was happy without a boyfriend. I enjoyed being on my own and avoiding the drama that came with relationships. But my sense of independence was only part of the story. It’s possible that my lack of interest in romance may have been influenced by a relationship I already had in my life. And once again, it had something to do with motocross.

  My brother and I grew up riding dirt bikes and racing, although he was much more serious about it than I was. The more serious you are about racing and competing, the more you have to travel. Most people who show real talent for racing, and have the means to pursue it, are homeschooled from middle school onward. There’s no other way to get an education when you’re always on the road, traveling from state to state to compete. All of this plays into the culture surrounding motocross, by the way, and the kind of people who are drawn to it.

  Back when I was about nine and my brother was in his early teens, our family spent a lot of time at the motocross tracks in and around Tennessee. Over time, my parents made friends with a few other families that were always at the same tracks. They were always around each other and hanging out. One of the boys my brother hit it off with was a guy named Kyle. I saw a lot of him when I was a kid. Of course, we weren’t friends. He was my brother’s friend, and I was just “Matt’s little sister.” As we all got older, my brother and I both got heavily involved in school sports. I was totally committed to softball, and he was serious about wrestling. Eventually he quit racing, and we all stopped spending so much time at the track. We still saw Kyle and the rest of the motocross people once in awhile, but not nearly as much.

  One day when I was in high school, Kyle and I started chatting on MySpace out of the blue. I never had anything but a friendly impression of him, so I was happy to talk to him and catch up on what we’d been up to since I stopped coming to the track so much. The small talk led to more talk, and before I knew it we were becoming really good friends. Long-distance friends, but still.

  After I’d been talking to Kyle for a few weeks, I brought him up with my brother. “Do you remember Kyle?” I asked him, very casually.

  “Yeah, I remember.” My brother gave me a weird look. “We basically grew up with him.”

  Right. “Is he cool?” I asked. “Or is he a douchebag?”

  My brother laughed. He knew exactly what I was talking about. The money-and-homeschool combination that’s common with serious motocross kids doesn’t always result in th
e best personalities. It’s a well known stereotype of people who grow up deep in that world that they basically know nothing about life. But my brother said, “He’s cool. He’s not a ‘bro.’”

  It was good to hear, but I already knew that. It wasn’t like I was short on good friends, even guy friends. If I didn’t see something cool about Kyle, I wouldn’t get so much out of our conversations. But I loved talking to him. Kyle was really funny. He had a sharp wit, and not a mean one. He was the type of person who was always in a good mood. It was a strange relationship we had, spending so much time together on MySpace and on the phone, but he became my best friend.

  Still, even though neither of us referred to it outright, the “friendship” between Kyle and me quickly turned into a kind of long-distance romance. Or at least it would be hard to explain how that wasn’t basically what we were doing, at least in teenager terms. We talked all day, every day. And I mean constantly. Obviously neither one of us was spending significant time with other people in that way, considering the amount of attention we were paying each other. And so it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that part of the reason I wasn’t interested in dating was because Kyle’s friendship was already satisfying any need I might have had for a close connection with a guy I liked.

  The fact that neither of us came out and labeled it as romantic was part of the appeal. In fact, what I had with Kyle was perfect for my personality and the way I liked to go about my life at that time. It was easy. Since he lived in Nashville and we never saw each other, getting physical wasn’t an issue. Not that I didn’t find him attractive, but I was younger then, and any relationship between a girl and a guy is simpler when sex isn’t a factor. Not seeing each other also meant that we never had a chance to get on each other’s nerves. Since we never crossed the line into girlfriend and boyfriend territory, we didn’t even have to play the usual silly teenage relationship games like “you didn’t text me between classes so I’m not talking to you,” or whatever else couples usually harassed each other about.