Hate to Love

by R. S. Lively

  There's a pause and Shane gives a deep laugh.

  "It was completely stupid. I think I saw one reporter there the whole time. Julie put pictures up online and everything, but I don't think being there had anything to do with the new endorsements or looking good in front of people again. Now that all that Vanessa shit has died down after she admitted to lying, my reputation was bound to bounce back. I know what the PR guy said, but I don't think he really knows what he's talking about. He's used to dealing with delicate little celebrities and struggling businesses. It's obvious he doesn't know anything about how football fans worship their favorite players. It doesn't matter how much good I do. I might even have come out of this looking even better than before because of all the sympathy I’ve gotten for being screwed over by Vanessa. Now that it's all over, dealing with her might be the best thing that ever happened to me."

  Irrational, blinding anger explodes inside me, and I burst out of the bedroom and stomp down the hallway to face Shane.

  "Just a second," he says. "I'll be right with you."

  He starts to lean down as if to kiss me, and I duck out of his way.

  "Hang up the phone," I say again.

  Covering the phone with his hand, Shane lowers his voice slightly to speak to me.

  "I need to finish this phone call," he says. "Just go back in the bedroom and strip down. I don't even mind if you get started before me."

  This is the first moment of my life I wish I was violent. I reach out and snatch the phone out of his hand. Ending the call, I resist the urge to throw it through my window, and instead toss it across the room onto a chair.

  "I said hang up the phone," I say. "What about that did you not understand?"

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demands. "You've been acting like this for the last two weeks. You wouldn't stay with me at the hotel. You had Joe bring you to the field rather than letting me pick you up. You've barely let me touch you."

  "What's wrong with me?" I shout. "Are you seriously asking me that? Don't you think I heard every word you just said?"

  "So? What's wrong with what I said?"

  I step back from him, stunned.

  "How could I not see it?" I ask.

  "See what?"

  "That you haven’t changed at all. You are still the same arrogant, self-centered dick you always have been."

  I start to walk away, but he grabs me by the wrist and turns me around to face him.

  "You can't just walk away. You need to tell me what you mean by that."

  "I worked myself to the bone for you. After everything you did to my brother, after you screwed him out of that interview, took his place on that training squad because you didn't tell him he was the one who was selected, and then just dropped him when he had to drop out of college. After all that, I still took you on."

  "None of what happened between me and your brother has anything to do with you," Shane snaps. "And even if it did, you need to get your facts straight. I didn't screw him out of that interview. He had the same exact opportunity that I did. He decided not to go, so I went at the same time. Then he suddenly changed his mind and showed up. But I got there first, so they took me. That's not my fault. That's his. The training squad, yes. I did that. I'll admit it. When I found out he had been selected for the squad and I didn't, I was furious. My entire life was riding on getting a scholarship and catching the eye of a scout. I'm not like you and Joe. I didn't have a cozy little upbringing, and I didn't have money to rely on. All I had was myself, and I wasn't going to have a future if it wasn't football. So, no, I didn't tell him he got selected for the squad. In my mind, if he was actually interested, and had anywhere near as much a dedication to it that I did, he'd ask our coach, or he could call the squad organizer. But he didn't. He just assumed someone would tell him. He didn't take the initiative, so I took his spot. It's not one of my prouder moments in life, but it got me to where I am."

  "I do know what you went through, and I understand you were in a really hard place. I can even understand you taking the opportunity that was given to you. But what about after that? Once you already got into college and were already on the team? Joe had to drop out of school, and you just abandoned him. What do you have to say about that?"

  "He's a grown man, Julie. He's not some little boy I left standing in the rain."

  "No, he was a man who had to give up on his dream, so he could get a full-time job, come home and take care of his little sister because they had just been orphaned. You never even fucking checked on him, Shane. You never came to help. You never did anything. You just disappeared into your college life, got signed and rode off into the sunset without a second thought about Joe or what you two had been through together. You have no idea how much you hurt him, but I still worked with you."

  "You took me on because you didn't have a choice," Shane says. "Mr. Slidell told you that you had to work with me or you weren’t going to have a job anymore."

  I'm trying to get myself under control. I don't want to have this conversation with him. I'm not ready to have this conversation with him.

  "That's true. The only reason I agreed to work with you is because I wanted to be a PR rep. But I got turned down from the firm back home, and humiliated when I came here thinking I had a job. I wasn't about to give up the opportunity to actually work in public relations, even if it meant having to look at you every day. But that doesn't mean I didn't put everything into it. I might have had to accept you as my client, but it didn’t mean I had to work as hard as I did. I didn't have to go to the extent that I did. I could have done the bare minimum and hope for the best, but instead, I went above and beyond for you. I'm the reason you have the endorsements. I'm the reason you're back to being the Golden Boy. Yet all you can do is stand here, in my apartment, and badmouth not only the work I've done, but the opportunities I arranged for you. You're so fucking arrogant, and so full of yourself, that you honestly believe people would just turn a blind eye to anything you do. You seem to think you were in just some sort of time out, and that soon all your adoring fans would come rushing back to you. You can't come to terms with the idea that your star has been fading, and that it was possible you were going to get cut."

  "So, you're this angry with me it because I was having a stupid conversation with one of my friends?" Shane asks.

  "No, I'm angry because I was so blinded by what was happening between us to see that you're never actually going to change, and that all the ridiculous thoughts I've had are just that – ridiculous."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm just your PR rep. Even if you try to say you were just joking, that's what came out of your mouth, because that's what you want people to think. You've never referred to me as your girlfriend, or even properly asked me on a date. The most you've ever talked about our future is when you were figuring out when to pick me up at Joe's the next day."

  "I didn't think you wanted to talk about anything like that. You seem to enjoy people seeing you as an individual entity who doesn't need anyone else. I didn't think we needed to define anything."

  "I never said I don't need anyone else. I said I've never cared about dating."

  "And that's different now?"

  "It might have been. I might have started thinking about the possibility of there being more between us when this arrangement is over."

  "That one conversation changes everything?"

  "Yeah, it does," I say.

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm pregnant, Shane."

  This is not how I meant to tell him. I've been thinking about it since I first found out, trying to decide the perfect time and way to deliver the news. Standing in the middle of my living room screaming at him wasn't one of the options, but I can't turn back now.

  "You're what?" he asks.

  "I'm pregnant," I say again.

  "How long have you known?" he asks.

  "Three weeks."

  The fury on his face has lessened, but now his face is strained with
shock. He opens his mouth to say something, but I take a step back and hold up my hands as if to ward off whatever it is he's starting to say. I don't want to hear his bullshit right now.

  "I think you should leave," I say.

  "Hey, I'm not leaving until we talk about this," Shane says. "You just told me you're carrying my child."

  "I know," I say. "But I need some time to think about this."

  "You had time to think about it. You've had three weeks to think about it and you haven't told me."

  "I know," I say. "But I need time. I need some time away from you and this whole situation. I'm not running away from you. I'm not pouting or having a temper tantrum. I just need to figure this out. Alone."

  "We can figure this out together," Shane says.

  I shake my head.

  "I need to figure it out for myself. We knew our arrangement was going to end. All of this has been temporary. The project is almost over, and we accomplished what we wanted to. You look fantastic to the public, and you have a lot of really good things ahead of you, so you need to focus on that. And I need to focus on myself right now. I wanted you to want to be with me because it was in your heart, not because of a baby. I obviously didn't plan this pregnancy, and it's as much of a shock to me as it is to you, but the difference is this is my life. I need time to really think about it and decide what I want. I was offered a job back home, and that's where I think I need to be right now. It's really hard to leave the firm I'm at now, and even my apartment, but being back there really reminded me of how much I love Virginia, and how homesick I've been. I just need to go home."

  "Julie, it doesn't have to be this way. I'm sorry if you feel like I don't respect all you've done for me…"

  "That's not what this is about, Shane. This is about me figuring out who I am, and the life I want, and about this baby. I just need you to respect the situation and give me the time and space I need."

  "I don't want to give you time or space," he says.

  "You don't have a choice. With all the appearances and events coming up, your new endorsements, and the season starting, you don't have the time or freedom to relocate. Your life is here. You need to just go ahead and live it. And I'll live mine."

  He takes an imploring step toward me.

  "Julie, I'm falling –"

  I stop him.

  "Please. Don't. I need you to not finish that, because I don't believe it's true, and I can't bear to hear you lie to me. And even if it is true, I can't accept it. Not right now. Please, Shane. This shouldn't have happened between us. Both of us were in vulnerable places and we fell into each other because it was easy. It was convenient, and it distracted us. It doesn't matter what either of us thinks or feels right now. What matters is a few weeks from now, and then a few months from now, and then a few years from now. When we're not in the trenches together and we're facing the reality of life, what are we going to think, or feel, or want?"

  "I don't know," he says.

  "I don't either," I say. "And I need to know I can handle whatever happens when the time comes. That's something I have to do by myself, and you should, too. I need you to go."

  I know I'll never forget the look on his face as he stares into my eyes for a few heartbreaking seconds, then turns and leaves.

  It's only seconds after he walked away that the door opens again, and Mrs. Livingston rushes inside. She doesn't say anything, but gathers me into her arms, and holds me while I cry. I feel like my heart has been ripped out, and I'm already questioning my decision. Mrs. Livingston helps me to the couch and sits me down.

  "I'm sorry," I choke out.

  "Don't you be sorry," she says softly. "You cry as much as you want to. Never listen to someone when they tell you not to cry. I promise you there are a lot of tears to come, but the first ones are the hardest. They're the ones that hurt the most because they're the ones that cut. Every tear you cry after this will help to wash it all away. It'll still hurt for a while, but you'll be healing. So, it's alright. You cry. I'll be here. You just cry until you're done."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Julie

  "It's good to have you home, little sister."

  I look up from the box I'm unpacking to Joe. He’s leaned against the doorway, a huge smile on his face. Unfortunately, I can't bring myself to be so happy. I've been back for almost a week and I'm still struggling to finish unpacking my final boxes. It's not like I have a huge amount of stuff to unpack, but I can’t bring myself to pull all my belongings back out of the boxes and bags and find places for them in my room again. It's almost as though if I do, I'll finally be admitting I failed.

  I try to tell myself that I’m being ridiculous. I didn't fail. This isn't crawling back home because I couldn't make it in Pennsylvania. I did make it in Pennsylvania. I have a bonus-padded bank account to prove it. There should be no embarrassment in coming back and facing everyone. They know what I was able to do with Shane. I made sure of that during the weeks we were here for the football camp with Joe. I paraded him around town, revisited his old haunts, and let people watch him enjoy his hometown again.

  Nearly all the people we met were thrilled to see Shane and be able to talk to him. The few moments of bitterness we encountered were quickly forgotten in how much we fun we had. There was another reason behind to the reunion tour, though, that I wouldn't admit to anyone. There were also selfish motivations to me escorting him around town. Being seen with him and talking about what we were doing was a way to let all those who told me I'd never accomplish anything that I had done exactly what I said I was going to do.

  Remembering the happiness I felt back then makes me feel even emptier now. I shouldn't let it. That's not what I should be thinking about. My thoughts need to be focused on readjusting to life back home and my new job. Supposedly.

  The problem with the job is that it doesn't exist. I lied to Shane when I told him I was moving back home to take a new job and think about my pregnancy. Instead of having a job at the local PR firm lined up for me, I’m going to rely on the bonus I earned from Mr. Slidell. When I told him I was leaving, he was upset, but he agreed to give me my bonus a little early. I came back here with what I originally left with, a few things I acquired in the months I was in Pennsylvania, and the bonus. Until I think through everything that’s happening with the pregnancy, and Shane, that’s all I’ll have. Getting pregnant was something I never gave any thought to, and definitely didn't plan. Now that it's happening, I'm overwhelmed.

  "You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Joe asks, stepping into the room.

  I nod sadly.

  As hard as I've tried, I haven't been able to keep my mind off Shane.

  "Julie, you have to let it go. I know telling you that isn't actually going to make a difference, but you need to listen to me. Shane isn't good enough for you. More importantly, he could never be the type of father your baby deserves. He just doesn't have it in him."

  "I thought the two of you were starting to get along better by the time the camp was over," I say.

  "We were. Comparatively speaking. But that was before I found out he knocked up my sister."

  I cringe.

  "You don't have to put it that way."

  "I'm sorry. Shane used to be a good guy. Or maybe, he used to be better at acting like it. I don’t want you to worry yourself sick thinking about him. What you should be thinking about is yourself, and your baby. He would just disappoint you if you tried to include him."

  "I'm going to be fine," I say. "I can handle this."

  I say it to stop Joe from continuing the talk I've heard from him several times since getting back. Logically, I know he’s right. In my heart, though, I'm just not sure. I don't know if I can handle being pregnant or being a mother. I know I’ll also have to provide for my child, and that means finding a decent job. The bonus Mr. Slidell gave me was extremely generous, and it's enough to rely on for a while, but it's not going to last forever – especially now that I’m preparing for a baby.

&nbs
p; I look around my room. It feels like reality is finally settling in. This is home. Again.

  Letting out a long sigh, I walk over to a box sitting under the window in the same place I put it my first night back. I rest my hand on top. It's time. This will make it official. Most of my clothes are still packed away, and I can't figure out where I packed my underwear. I had to go buy new ones in fear of having to go commando. My knickknacks are still wrapped. They can all wait. This box can’t.

  I open the box and pull out what's inside. Holding it, I walk across the hall into my bathroom. Stepping into the shower, I run the faucet just long enough to fill one palm with water. I wait a few seconds for the droplets to glide away, before unfurling Rubber Duckie and pressing him to the dampened surface. He had greeted me as soon as I entered that apartment, and I wasn't about to leave him behind.

  One month later…

  "I still don't understand," I tell Bump. "I've tried, but I must have some sort of block against understanding football. No matter what I do, it just won't click."

  Bump doesn't respond. That's a good thing considering at only three months along, it's barely visible yet. I can tell the subtle difference, but no one else has seemed to notice. It looks like I ate a few too many of the caramel apple cookies I've been baking recently. It's a recipe I haven't used in years, but for the last two weeks, these cookies have been one of the only things that don’t make me sick. As much as I hope the erratic waves of nausea end soon, I'm fine with people continuing to assume I've downed a dozen too many. I haven't told anyone in town yet other than Joe. I even chose a midwife almost an hour away in the city, just to avoid raising eyebrows. I'm not ready for that just yet.

  The doorbell startles me, and I press my hand to my chest to quiet my heart as I make my way to the front door. Glass panels on either side of the door blur the image of the person on the other side, but I immediately know who it is. I pause partway down the front hallway, not sure if I want to open the door. The doorbell rings again, and Shane's fuzzy silhouette waves at me.