I need to settle in, but I still feel restless…nervous. Things don’t feel right. And I’ve been in some beautiful places so far on this journey, many where I should have just put down roots, but they’re not the right place, because my heart’s not there.
But I know where my heart is, and I can’t go back there.
August 14
JESUS, YES. I know. I know. I really need to go to the doctor. This baby isn’t getting the care it needs, and I’m not taking good care of myself either. I didn’t even get out of bed yesterday, didn’t shower…couldn’t even make myself draw, the only thing I’ve been doing that’s kept my sanity intact.
I know I can’t keep putting it off. I’m a shitty mother already. Fuck.
When I draw, though, holy shit. I know…weird, but I think my art is the best it’s ever been. I’m starting to run low on supplies, and my car trunk is filling up. So, even though I’m starting to feel void inside, I’m breaking out artistically.
I’m going to call my parents tomorrow. I have to know everything’s okay. Something in my gut tells me I need to call them. I don’t care what I said before.
August 15
I CALLED MOM and dad and found out that Barry said he was going to call the police and report me missing. What the fuck? So I’m tempted to get back on the road again.
I should just call him and tell him to leave me alone.
Dad assured me they haven’t told Barry where I am, and he also told Barry I’m not missing. I could hear in his voice that dad’s disappointed with me, but he defended me anyway.
And then I lay down to take a nap. I had a dream about Scott and woke up knowing that I love him completely. But I also know now, having left, that I can live without him. I can live without any man. Why do women always think they need a man to fulfill them?
Dad said that Isabel called him. A couple of my paintings sold and dad deposited them in my account, so I have a little more money than I thought. That’s good. It’s bought me a little more time before I have to buckle down and get a job.
I’m considering calling Barry. I want to tell him to knock it off. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman, and he is my ex-husband. We’ve been divorced for several months. It’s time for him to move on.
August 16
I BOUGHT A TracFone and activated it, slapping sixty minutes on it so I could call Barry without him getting my real phone number. I got his voicemail, so I hung up. I guess I won’t worry about it. It’s not like I’m a fugitive. If the cops did take him seriously and found me, I could explain to them what was going on.
I actually looked through the Grand Junction phone book in the hotel room this morning. It’s a decent-sized place. It’s not a podunk town with nothing to offer. It has an abundance of jobs (I’ve looked at their paper), even if they’re just minimum wage—and I’m sure I can find art supplies here somewhere, everything I’ll need. There are lots of doctors to choose from too. And the anonymity of a bigger place…in some ways, I miss that. It’s not like Denver, not by a long shot, but it’s a hell of a lot bigger than Winchester. In a lot of ways, it’s comforting.
So, in the next few days, baby and I will begin our new life.
August 17
GRAND JUNCTION IS pretty far removed from the mountains I thought I wanted to live in, but you can’t tell shit about the terrain when you’re surrounded by city. That’s what I keep telling myself.
I’m going to start looking for an apartment, a doctor, and a job tomorrow, not necessarily in that order. I’ve decided to stay here. I can’t keep running.
And shit. I miss people. I’m feeling really lonely. I’ve almost forgotten why I left.
I hope I can afford what I need. Funds are getting low, but I think I’ll be okay.
I’m proud of the art that’s come out of me the last couple of weeks, though. I really have done some of the best work of my life. I may be able to sell more paintings here too. Who knows?
I’ve been cramping a little bit in the last hour, which worries me a little bit. I wonder if
August 18
I FEEL EMOTIONALLY void. I just spent the last several hours in the hospital. I’d started bleeding and cramping last night while I was writing. I considered taking a cab to the hospital but decided not to panic. I wasn’t helpless. I could still drive. So I asked the front desk folks how to get to the hospital, wadded up a washcloth in my underwear, and headed over.
Fuck.
I have no baby. Never did. NEVER did.
Yeah. No wonder I never felt pregnant.
So I’m back to thinking I can’t have children. I’ve been crying ever since they told me. A big part of me is relieved. But I feel sad and empty. I feel almost like I really did lose a baby. That maternal feeling I had? All in my fucking messed-up head. But even though I only felt pregnant mentally, I was starting to plan. I was thinking of names, thinking about holding and talking to a tiny baby, of bonding with that baby. Instead, during the past month, I’ve been bonding with my fucked-up imagination. I’m really glad I hadn’t gone completely off the deep end and started buying baby stuff. It would break my heart to see it now.
I asked the doctor about not having periods. I thought maybe it was related to this whole infertility bullshit thing. So I went through some more tests. He ultimately informed me that I wasn’t having periods because I was malnourished, and he gave me a diet to follow. He also told me there was counseling available for anorexia. Yes, he told me that.
But he did say something that gave me some hope. He said I appear to be as fertile as any woman could be, and he chastised me for having unprotected sex. He gave me a prescription for birth control. So now the ER doc in Grand Junction thinks I’m an anorexic nymphomaniac.
He said that when I decide I want to have children, I should talk to my doctor about having fertility treatments. I was still in shock, so I can’t remember for sure, but I think he said I could take pills for that. Really. He said it’s a lot less invasive that in vitro. Well, no shit. The only drawback would be that I could have a multiple birth as opposed to one child (he mentioned the octomom gal. Jesus…talk about extreme. From infertility to a fucking litter—I don’t know how I’d like that). But instant family in one shot.
I asked him what the hell was up with my body. Why was I bleeding? Well, guess what, dumbass? It’s your fucking PERIOD. Remember that? I hadn’t had one for so long, I’d forgotten what it’s like.
But then I asked him why two pregnancy tests would show false positives. He told me in his doctorly manner that no test is ever one-hundred percent accurate, but he also said that my at-home pregnancy test could have been easily botched by me. Yeah, me…the anorexic nymphomanical crazy—and apparently incompetent—woman. I was so emotional, it would have been easy to misread the results, especially if I’d been freaking out, expecting the worst.
Yeah, I guess I’d been freaking out pretty badly. Yeah…I was convinced of the worst. Fair call.
He didn’t know why the clinic test would have shown positive. Mistakes can happen, he said. But I’ve had time to sleep on it and retrospect is always clearer than being in the moment. Okay, so I haven’t actually slept at all, because I’ve been going over and over this in my mind. How could the clinic fuck up the test? They seemed to be pretty on the ball. And then I remembered when I put my cup in their cabinet. Would it have been possible for the nurses to get my results mixed up with that other girl’s?
Or…more probable…would that other girl have considered intentionally switching our lids or something like that? It would explain why she asked me what my result was. Why else would she care? It’s not like we’d bonded in the waiting room or anything…
It didn’t really matter, though. I wasn’t pregnant, never had been, and wrong or not, it was something I had to accept. And, in all fairness, the nurse had offered me the chance to test a second time at the clinic. But by that point, I’d been convinced I was pregnant.
Because I seemed doubtful, the doctor at t
he ER did another pregnancy test with me to show how what the hospital used worked. It triple-checked its own results, and all of them came out negative. Casey Williams was not pregnant.
So I came back here to the motel, and I’ve done nothing but cry and cry and cry. I’m still crying, but I’m better. And Jesus…I feel so stupid. I never had to leave Winchester in the first place, never had to leave him. What a fool I’ve been. And now I’m afraid to go back. But I have no choice. I have little money. I put the hospital bill on my credit card, and I’m sure there will be more charges in the future. It’ll take my whole life to pay it off. And I have too much pride. So what will I say?
I guess I’ll leave tomorrow and start heading back.
Or whenever.
August 19
I’M PROBABLY ABOUT halfway there. I’m in Salida again. I’ve tried to let go of all my emotional baggage, and I’m almost excited to be going back. I only ever told everyone that I was finding myself (not that I was pregnant). So have I?
Actually, I think so. Problem is I’m still that fucking insecure middle school girl, but I’m going to change that. And facing the music is step number one.
So…I’m going to find a place to park near the Arkansas River, and I’m going to roll down a window, then sleep in my car. I’m then going to head back into Salida, eat some breakfast (per doctor’s orders!), and hit the road again. I’m coming back, Scott…for better or worse.
Part III
Chapter Fifteen
I DROVE INTO town at daybreak. I hadn’t been able to sleep very long, so I left Salida in the middle of the night. Instead of eating breakfast, I ate a microwaved burrito in Cañon City in the wee hours. When I arrived in Winchester, the sky was a beautiful pale orange with filmy, cottony, thin clouds traced in red on their bottoms.
I pulled up to mom and dad’s house, tail tucked firmly between my legs. Could I ever tell them why I’d really left? I doubted it. I’d already sworn to myself that no one would ever know the real reason why I’d left (especially because I’d been so wrong).
They’d been expecting me. Dad walked out before I’d even gotten to the front door. He didn’t say a word, just hugged me tightly. “Come on in and have some coffee, honey.” He patted my back. “Sure is good to have you back.”
I knew what he meant. It didn’t matter that we’d been apart for longer periods of time when I’d lived in Denver. I knew what he was feeling…it was that sense of finality I’d given my journey.
“Wait a second, dad.” He followed me back to the car, and I opened the trunk.
“Wow, Casey. You could open your own art gallery with all these.”
I grinned, feeling better already just being around dad, one person in my life who had always accepted me for me. No strings, no condemnations. And he understood that I just wanted to show them off. We didn’t have to do anything with them right now. “Come on,” he urged again, and I walked with him up to the house.
“Casey!” My mom nearly screamed as we walked in the house. She hugged me, sobbing. I felt like the prodigal child—no questions asked, no shooing me off, just pure loving emotions and joy to see me. It made me feel even guiltier for having left in the first place. When mom regained her composure (bear in mind it was unlike my mother to lose it in the first place), she asked, “You’re not leaving again like that, are you?”
I felt a slight smile cross my face. “I don’t think so.”
We sat down at the table. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
I paused and thought. I had barely addressed the question to myself. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” It was the truth. I think, after almost twenty-seven years, I knew who Casey was. And even though Casey had a lot of problems and myriad imperfections, I think I loved her.
“Casey, forgive me for harping, but I’m your mother. You’re much too thin. I want—”
“I know, mom.” I wasn’t angry, and I understood why my mom was freaking out. I was way too thin. “A doctor told me the very same thing and put me on a diet to gain weight.”
Her eyes almost bulged. I actually left her dumfounded…probably for only the second time in my life. But not for long. She said, “We haven’t eaten breakfast yet. What would you like to eat?”
“Anything.”
“Casey,” dad said, “we won’t be offended if you want to live on your own again. You’re a grown woman and can think for yourself. We’ll support you no matter what you decide.”
I wondered if the body snatchers had come and taken my parents. In reality, though, I think we all three had a much better perspective of our relationship. And, bottom line, we loved each other. Looking back now, I see that—even more that that—it was because I had grown up. I’d learned to appreciate my parents for who they were and why they did what they did, instead of always resenting them and feeling bitter. It was me. I’d made the difference, not them. They were the same people that they’d been a year before, two years before, hell…my whole life. I was not. And, for the better, I think.
During breakfast, they let me know that Isabel had called the day before. She’d sold another painting, and she was planning to do a display of my art, as well as three other “up-and-coming” artists. Wow. Maybe I really could have a career painting, even in this place I’d once called a podunk town.
I’d surprise her. Tomorrow I’d take my trunk full of art and let her pick and choose. I guessed she’d like some of my new art, considering it was darker and more twisted than a lot of things I’d done. I still needed to frame most of them, but no big deal. I’d frame what she wanted and not worry about the rest for now.
Yeah, I’d missed getting in on the tattoo art show. Maybe I could still check with the Arts Center and see if I wasn’t too late. I wasn’t going to count on it, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.
I went to bed, even though it was morning, since I’d hardly slept the night before, and I woke up mid-afternoon. I showered and didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to go to the art gallery. I was excited. I started thinking maybe I could go to neighboring towns with some of my work. Hell, I could even check out Colorado Springs…or I could go to all the towns I’d visited over the last month. Many of them seemed like they’d be receptive to my art. But I started thinking about possibilities, and I figured the more I had out there, the better my chances.
Yes, I wanted to move out of their house again, but I wasn’t as desperate about it as I’d been when I moved in with them earlier in the year. This time, I’d stay until I was sure I could make it on my own.
Scott. I needed to see Scott. I was desperate to see him. I determined I’d go see him after swinging by the art gallery.
Isabel…she was a saint. She let me know that she was going to have her “up and comers” show in October. That would be me and a few other artists whose work she wanted to highlight. And, yeah…she dug a lot of my new stuff. She was undecided on several, so she just took a bunch. Yippee! She said we’d discuss details as we got closer to the date. This was it, though—my big break.
Then I drove to Bob’s Southern BBQ. I hadn’t been here since my last day of work. I was nervous but knew it had to be done. I didn’t see Scott’s black truck anywhere around the place, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. I walked in the restaurant. I saw Carla in the dining room waiting tables and waved. She came over and hugged me, but I could tell she was busy. I asked if she would mind going back to the kitchen to get David for me. While she was doing that, I heard someone behind me. “Hi, stranger.”
I turned around. “Hey, Ed. How goes it?”
“Fine. We miss you around here.”
“I’ve missed you guys too.”
He let out a breath. “You better now, Casey?”
“Much. Thanks.” He hugged me and then asked me to excuse him so he could go back to work.
David came out to the lobby. “Casey!” He ran over and gave me a big bear hug, swinging me around. I was really glad the restaurant didn’t have many customers yet, not that it w
ould have mattered. He stood back a second. “No offense, but you look awful.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you’ve been starving to death.”
I looked down, hit with the realization again that I was pretty thin. “Stress.”
“You all right?”
“Better. Thanks.” I paused and cleared my throat, feeling nervous. “Scott around?”
David’s eyes shifted, trying to hide…something. He avoided making contact with mine. “At our place maybe?”
“David…what are you not telling me?”
“I think you need to talk to Scott.” He gulped. “I’ve got to get back to work. Nice to see you, Casey. I missed you.”
“Yeah. You too.” The enthusiasm was gone from my voice. I was not looking forward to what I was going to find out.
I drove by their house, but Scott wasn’t home. I went back to my parents’. All night long, I wanted to call him, but now I was afraid to. What was going on?
Chapter Sixteen
I WOKE UP the next morning, still not feeling sure about what I should do. I was sitting at the table with mom and dad when the phone rang. Mom answered it. She had a look of apology on her face when she said, “Casey, it’s for you.”
I didn’t even ask. I lunged for the phone. “Hello?”
“So you’re finally back, huh?”
My heart sank to the floor. It was Barry. I hadn’t expected that.
It was time to slap him in the face. “Barry, you do realize we’re not married anymore.”
“Casey, do you realize that not one day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you?”
“Oh, come on, Barry. That’s bullshit and you know it.” My parents were staring, so I thought maybe I’d better lower my voice. I turned the other way.
Then Kiss Me Page 20