by Kristie Cook
“She brought it up, but I was against it, and so was she. She talked about adoption, but I didn’t approve of that option either. I was going to take responsibility for my child. End of story. And then she dropped off the face of the Earth.” He shook his head, his dark hair flopping over his forehead. “I couldn’t reach her anywhere. Not at her place, not on her cell phone, not through email. I drove the two hours to her parents’ home every weekend throughout the summer, figuring she’d gone there, but could never catch her. I thought I’d never see my child. I was scared that she’d aborted him. Last semester started, and I tried to go on as usual. I was in my own place by then, hoping that I could get her to move in with me. If I could only find her. Her due date came and went, and I still couldn’t reach her. I hated not being there for her … for him. Not being there for his birth.”
“Wow. I can’t believe she did that to you.” My heart squeezed for Brock and what he must have been going through.
“Yeah, it sucked. When I still hadn’t heard from her a few weeks after her due date, I figured I wasn’t going to. I prayed that she hadn’t aborted the baby, but that she’d decided to keep him and maybe one day she’d let me into his life. Or, at least, that she’d put him up for adoption. Even if that meant she hadn’t put my name on the birth certificate, and I’d never know my own child, at least I’d know he was alive and well somewhere. It was that hope that got me through it. And then I refocused on my studies, trying to forget.”
“Which is impossible.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I tried to fool myself, but failed. But what could I do? I could only believe in what Mom always told me: things happen the way they’re supposed to.”
“Which they obviously did …”
“Right. So, she’d apparently received all of my messages and had tracked me down in my new place, because one day I was sitting at home, working on chem homework when I got a text from her to open my front door. My heart had gone crazy. I crossed the living room in three long strides. I was so excited to see her again, and, hopefully our baby. Or at least to find out what she’d done. I figured if she’d had an abortion against my wishes, she wouldn’t dare show her face at my door. So, I threw it open expectantly.”
He paused. His last words had come thickly, as though his throat had closed up.
“And?” I coaxed.
“And there he was. The most beautiful but tiniest human I’d ever seen. He was sitting in a car seat with a diaper bag next to him, sound asleep. A car engine gunned in the distance as it took off out of the parking lot, but I paid it no attention at the time. But then another text message came through: ‘I can’t do it,’ it said. ‘You wanted him. He’s all yours. His name is Connor. I hope that’s okay with you.’”
My breath caught audibly.
“Oh, my god! She just left him at your door?” What had she been thinking? How could any mother do such a thing?
“She obviously knew I was home.”
“But, still … What did you do?”
He shrugged. “I brought him inside, of course. It took me a while to process as I stared at his sweet little face, but when he woke up crying, reality hit. I was suddenly a daddy. And I had no clue what to do.”
“So you came home.”
“Yep. Mom and Dad were on their way back from Europe. I couldn’t get a hold of them, but I didn’t know what else to do, so I dropped my on-campus classes and only kept the online ones, packed the important stuff and moved back here. A buddy helped me make the drive, but he didn’t want to stick around for when I broke the news to Mom, so I dropped him off at the airport as soon as we were in town. The whole way here, I dreaded her reaction. But she took one look at us and promised I would never have to do it all alone. As long as I stayed in school, she’d take care of us. So … here we are. That was less than a week before you showed up to interview for a job.”
I thought back to that first day I’d met them. “Damn,” I breathed as I flopped against the couch. I hadn’t realized how tensed up I’d become from listening to his story. “So many things make much more sense now.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. We held each other’s gazes for a long time.
“So …” he said, and his voice trailed off.
“So …” I echoed. “You, uh, have a baby.”
“Yep. I do. He’s my world. That changes things, doesn’t it?”
I chuckled. “Uh, yeah, that changes a lot. I don’t … I don’t even know what to think right now, Brock.”
His story had distracted me, allowing my emotions to calm, but now we’d returned full circle to the subject of us. Trying to think of us—three of us—was impossible, because my brain went one way, while my heart kept traveling to different feelings and memories, and my soul wanted to pull Brock into my arms and tell him it’d all be okay. We’d be okay. We’d find our way through this.
He rose to his feet. “So, uh, you should probably take some time to think about this. I’ll take a rain check on our date for tonight.”
My heart sank, but I nodded. “Yeah, that’d be best. I definitely need time. What we have—had—it’s all different now. I … I just don’t know right now.”
A muscle in his face twitched, but his eyes turned distant. “I get it, Asia. Trust me, I get it.”
He left then, and I listened to his footsteps trudge down the stairs until I could hear him no more, and then I leaned my head back on the couch cushion and blew out a sigh weighed down with life. I stared at the ceiling again, and a single tear leaked from the corner of my eye and trailed down my temple into my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut to prevent any more from falling, but my heart was taking the rest of me down the path I didn’t want to go. To my own horrible summer of difficult decisions, hopes, and fear of the unknown. To a time I wished I could return to and do things differently.
But like Brock’s, my life was how it was meant to be.
Unlike Brock’s, it was completely lonely.
Along with my job, he’d filled the huge void I’d been living with since leaving my old life behind four months ago in October. Actually, since losing what was most precious to me last summer. For the past month or so, I hadn’t felt empty like I had before. And it wasn’t just his presence that filled the gaps, but the feeling that he appreciated me in his life as much as I did him in mine. He wanted to be with me. He’d called me his escape. He looked forward to seeing me every evening as though I were a luxury to enjoy. I understood more fully that I really was. He didn’t have time or room in his life for a girlfriend, but he’d made it for me. And he thought I was the exception to most girls our age who wouldn’t be so accepting of a pre-made family.
I didn’t know if I was, though. I certainly didn’t deserve to be revered as a luxury. Regardless, the real question was whether I was truly an exception to all the other girls.
Letting Brock go and returning to my empty life scared me more now than that same life had when I actually lived it. Something deep within me twisted painfully as I considered the idea, balking at the possibility of breaking up with Brock. But if he filled me, made me feel complete, what would bringing Connor into the equation do? Was there room? Could I make more space in my heart for him? He could never push out the piece of my heart held for the baby I could never have, but maybe there was another place he could fill.
I just didn’t know. I liked Brock. A lot. As in, I could easily see myself falling in love with him. Maybe I already had and just couldn’t admit to it, and that was why this decision came so hard. I’d never felt so lost and confused. Well, actually I had, but this took a close second.
Taking my time to figure things out, I avoided Brock for the following week and beyond. I pretty much knew his schedule, so I made sure I walked over to Hope’s office when he’d be upstairs showering and getting ready for his day. I made the quick journey home du
ring what I’d previously called his afternoon babysitting duty, but now knew was his father-son time. When he called, I let it go to voicemail. When he texted, I didn’t reply until I knew he was in class or sleeping and couldn’t text me back right away. I simply didn’t know what to say yet.
I spent my evenings with extra social media work for Hope, which brought me to Facebook and another message from Kami:
“Hi, Asia, Sorry it’s taken so long for me to reply. I’m still trying to get my ducks in a row, which is taking a lot longer than I thought it would. I dropped my classes for the semester, and I’ve been working full time to save up some money for my new life. I want to make sure I can be independent and live on my own, because you never know how things will turn out. I know you understand. After all, it was you who inspired me to do this in the first place. I hope everything is good with you, wherever you are. You never did tell me where you ended up. Anyway, thanks again for telling me to take charge of my life and to make things happen instead of letting them happen. I’m almost there. I mean, I’ve already taken a lot of steps, but sometimes it’s hard. I miss being a kid sometimes, you know? But I also hate the person I’d become before. So, yeah. I’m taking charge. Maybe by the time I can reply again, I’ll be on the road. Please keep in touch.”
The full conversation we’d had at the coffee shop came back to me now, and I dropped my head into my hands and massaged my temples. I remembered her telling me about how she’d always been able to coast through life, never having to make a big decision on her own, which had led her to end up in the same support group as the one I’d found on campus. Only, after we each left that one meeting we’d both been at, our lives had taken very different paths. She still hadn’t been able to decide her next step, and my decision was ripped away from me. Until that day when I’d made several life-changing decisions, including packing everything I owned, quitting classes, and driving to Florida.
She hadn’t told me what her ultimate decision had been that day in the coffee shop. We hadn’t grown that close in the ten minutes we sat with each other. But she did tell me she regretted it. Her eyes told me more—that it would haunt her until her dying day. And that’s when I’d told her that I’d finally made the decision to take my own life into my hands and suggested she consider doing the same.
“Stop letting others make decisions for you that you have to live with,” I’d said. “It’s your life. Own it.”
I rubbed the pressure points on my forehead for another minute, and then I wrote back to her:
“Hi, Kami ~ No problem on the delayed reply. I have to apologize, too. I only get on here for my boss and usually through her account as she dictates what she wants me to post. I’m glad things are going well for you. I guess they are here, too. I met a guy. A super guy. I thought he was going to be like all the rich, arrogant jerk-offs I’d grown up with, but he’s not. Just the opposite. Only, he has baggage. Pretty big baggage. As big as we have. I just found out last week, and I’ve put us in a holding pattern until I can figure out what to do. I mean, I don’t fault or blame him. I just don’t know if I can help him carry his load. I think I want to, but after everything I’ve been through, I don’t know if I can yet. You’re probably the only person I know who can understand that.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I realized the truth in that last statement. As I’d been typing, I’d wondered why I was even telling a near stranger all of this. I avoided giving too many details since everything stays on the Internet forever and a day. Even if it was a private message, I didn’t trust the Internet gods to keep it private into eternity. When I typed out that last sentence, though, I knew why I was spilling to Kami. We may have been mere acquaintances, but she really was the only person I knew in the world who would understand exactly where I was coming from with the Brock and Connor situation.
I wiped at my eyes before I reviewed what I’d already written and continued:
“Anyway, you’ve kind of inspired me now to take my own advice and make a damn decision. If I don’t, it’ll be made for me, and I probably won’t like it. That’s how things go, right? Let’s make a pact with each other that we’ll both stop letting others make all of our decisions. Sound good? Good luck with getting your ducks in a row. You keep in touch, too, and let me know when you start your new life. ~ Asia”
I signed off, closed the laptop, and set it on the coffee table next to Jacey’s old journal, which had remained there since the last time Brock and I had read it together. I picked up the book and ran my fingertips over the image embossed into the leather. I gasped as a tingling pulsed through my fingers. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, and I closed my eyes automatically, wanting to relish in the strange sensation.
By the time I opened them, my decision was made, based on something I felt deep in my soul. I felt the truth in it so strongly now, I couldn’t believe it had taken me as long as it had to figure it out. A knock on my door made me jump—it was nearly midnight—and when I opened it to find Brock on the other side, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d somehow sensed that I was finally ready to talk. Except I wasn’t quite ready. Although my decision was made, I hadn’t yet figured out the best way to execute it, and now here he was, all rugged and gorgeous as usual, making my mind wander when I really needed it to focus. At least he wore a shirt. I never thought that would be a positive, but at the moment, it was.
His gaze skimmed down my tank top and pajama bottoms and back up, where they caught for a brief moment on my boobs, freed from their confines of a bra at the moment. I crossed my arms over my chest when I realized I was totally nipping out, and not because it was cold.
“You, uh, want to come in?” I asked, and his eyes jumped up to mine.
He shook his head. “No, it’s late. I just couldn’t wait another moment to talk to you. I’m letting you off the hook.”
My brows scrunched together. “What?”
His gaze dropped as he rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow. “I’ve been thinking hard about everything, as I’m sure you have. I really thought you knew from the beginning, and I’m truly sorry if you felt led on.”
“I already told you—it’s not your fault. I was too blind to see the clues, and I didn’t ask enough questions. Please don’t blame yourself for this. It was a misunderstanding.”
He snorted. “A pretty serious misunderstanding.”
I nodded. “Kind of.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more that makes it bigger. See, not only did I think you knew, but I thought you actually were okay with it.” He chuckled, but I heard no humor in the sound. “That was stupid of me, I know. Why would you want to take on something like a baby? I mean, I know he’s mine, but that means he’s part of my whole package. And who wants that? You obviously don’t. I’d been living in a fantasy world, and I see that now.”
“Brock—”
“Please,” he interrupted, “just let me get this out because it’s been killing me for days.” He watched me for confirmation before he went on. “Your reaction, Asia, your need to take this long to think about it, tells me you’re not ready for this life. For what I have to offer. And as much as it kills me to say it, I’m letting you go. You can stop freaking out and worrying about it. I’m not going to beg you to stay in something you don’t want to be in. I did that enough in the past. I won’t do that to you. I care about you too much. I care about my son too much to be with someone who doesn’t really want us.”
I’d frozen in front of him, my heart folding in on itself with each word he uttered. I could only manage to stare at him. No words came to me. Only feelings, hordes of them, crashing down on me. So after a long moment, he turned and jogged down the steps and into the darkness.
“Fuck!” I said aloud as I closed the door and leaned against it.
I hadn’t been fast enough, and the decision had been made for me. Again. And as I’d suspected, it wasn’t the choice I
would have made. I couldn’t say that to Brock now, though. It had obviously pained him to come to this decision. Although he showed no evidence of a broken heart as he delivered his little speech, I could feel it. Actually feel his pain deep in my own soul. I also felt his strong belief that letting me go was the best thing for all three of us, and I could no longer argue with him.
My short stint of happiness was over.
How had I ever lived with such emptiness? Had I felt this hollow before I met him, when living on my own with no friends and family? I didn’t think so. I didn’t think I’d been so bare and vacant since last summer. How could I feel such a big void after such a short time with one person? I never thought I was this girl. Not even in the before. But here I was, letting the days and weeks pass by with little notice or participation from me except for my work. Depression and its endless pit of darkness began to take a stronghold in my life again. Like last time, when I wasn’t working, I lost myself in books—in other worlds and lives that were much worse than my own but somehow more enjoyable.
Except for the leather-bound book that still sat on my coffee table, untouched. I couldn’t bring myself to open the journal again. Reading Jacey’s story had been something I shared with Brock. It had no meaning any more now that he wasn’t here to listen, too. I should have tossed the book, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. It became part of the scenery.
Although we were often in the same house for hours on end, we managed to avoid each other for weeks. I could always feel him when he was nearby, however, like my soul was more complete. Still hurting, but at least not empty. When he was gone, though—at classes or taking Connor out—I didn’t feel exactly sad, especially as time passed, but somewhat hollow. As if something had perforated my soul and part of it leaked out, returning only when Brock did. As stupid as it all sounded, I couldn’t shake the feeling. It wasn’t a mental or emotional woe-is-me depression. It was physical, and not something I could help no matter how many times I told myself to get over it.