“You okay?” Marie asked. I let out the breath that I had been holding and relaxed my hands that were fisted around the shoulder strap of my seat belt that rested across my chest, noticing the sting where my nails had broken the skin of my palms.
“Yeah,” I answered and closed my eyes feigning sleep, hoping to avoid conversation that might give away what I had been holding on to deep inside.
Marie had the week off from work, so we were driving home together. I hadn’t yet decided if I was driving back to Seattle with her before the New Year or if I was going to endure the entire break at home. I was going to play it by ear. I was nervous about going home for the first time in months. Knowing that I would be surrounded by memories of Adam and the idea of someone discovering the huge secret that I was trying to conceal left me feeling anxious. Luckily I had yet to produce a bulging belly like the ones that I saw on television.
Sometimes I worried that something had happened and maybe I was not really pregnant anymore. I felt tired all the time though, sometimes barely able to keep my eyes open during class. And I had easily gained ten pounds; my face felt puffy, and my joints hurt when I ran. I had been living in sweatpants, leggings and baggy shirts, unable to button my jeans anymore. I tried not to dress in front of Tabatha, afraid that she might notice the small changes in my body. Although she had gained a few pounds herself, she could contribute it to her binge drinking and love for junk food. I ate rather healthily, didn’t drink and ran nearly every day. I wasn’t sure what excuse I could use.
When I walked into the only real home that I had ever known, I was immediately engulfed by the familiar smell of cinnamon, coffee and my mother’s perfume. The warmth radiating from the house almost dissolved the cold that had taken residence in my heart, a result from the distance that I had placed between myself and everyone that I loved—a necessity when hiding a painful truth. My mother embraced me before I had a chance to put down my bag. Feeling her arms around me brought tears to my eyes as I realized how much I had missed her. She was teary eyed as well.
“How are my girls?” she asked as she hugged Marie. Scott bounded down the stairs at the sound of our voices. He looked so grown-up, and it seemed longer than the nearly three months that it had been since I had seen him last. He pulled Marie and me in for a group hug, and we both commented on how tall he was. It was hard not to notice that his voice was deeper than before as well.
“Wow, Kendi, putting on the freshman fifteen, huh?” he said, laughing.
“Scott!” my mother objected. “Kendall, you look good with a few extra pounds on you. You’re always so skinny. You’re almost glowing,” she said, gently rubbing my cheek with her hand. I felt my face flush, immediately worried about their observations.
We spent the next hour catching up, each of us taking our turn sharing the new happenings in our life. Marie told us about work and the big promotion that she had just been offered. She blushed as she told us about how serious things were between her and Reid. He was spending Christmas in New York with his family, but they were meeting up for New Year’s Eve in Seattle.
Scott told us about the end of the football season. He had been a starting running back, and they had nearly won the state title. He was taking the season off from basketball—it really wasn’t his thing—and was getting ready for track season in the spring. After a little prodding from Mom, he told us about his new girlfriend, Lexi.
Mom told us about work and all the latest gossip that was floating around town. She was not really one to gossip, but she knew that Marie and I loved to hear all the ridiculous rumors.
I talked about how well I did on my finals and the new classes that I had registered for. Scott asked how Adam was doing, and so I shared the contents of his last letter. The truth was that his letters were coming less often as time went on. His last letter had contained a thin colorful tribal necklace, a Christmas gift, that I was wearing under my shirt. He had written about the latest crop that he was able to implement and how he was learning the language. He had shared how strongly he felt the Holy Spirit as he continued to teach the people about his church. He had told me how much he missed me and that he still loved me, but those words were mentioned less and less, the majority of his letters focusing on his faith.
I could feel every mile, every ounce of ocean that separated us in his last letter. I had sent him a care package of Christmas cookies and hard candy, a leather-bound journal, and a picture of Tabatha and me that had been taken in front of the campus rose garden in September, while it was still warm and sunny. I had told him as much truth as I could. The depth at which I missed him, the detailed memories of our relationship that I thought about nearly every day, the vivid dreams that I had about him and the disappointment that I felt when I awoke only to discover that I wasn’t really in his arms just moments before. I focused on my emotions rather than the physical part of my days, hoping to somehow close the distance that I felt from him. Deep down I knew that it wasn’t just the miles or his growing faith that separated us now; it was the weight of what I wasn’t saying in my letters.
Christmas was busy and fun, as always. We spent Christmas Eve at my grandparents’ house as we had every year that I could remember. On Christmas Day, we opened presents in front of the fire, and my mother’s family came for dinner. The phone rang constantly, always my high school friends wanting to get together. I told everyone that I was sick and needed to stay home, and then we would end up chatting about the last few months over the phone. It was hard not seeing Liz and Tracy—even Chase had called—but I just couldn’t face anyone. I told my mom that I felt like I was coming down with something and spent most of my time in my room, staring at the wall of pictures that I had missed.
I ran my hand over the pictures of Mo and me, wishing that she were here to talk to. I knew that I could trust her with the mess I had made of my life, and she would know exactly what to do. She had always known what to do in a crisis; she had prided herself on that. I looked at the pictures of Adam as well, cataloging every detail in my mind. His dimples framing his smile of perfect white teeth, his deep blue eyes—so intense—his crazy dark curls that I longed to run my fingers through... He was perfect, and I missed him so much.
I missed the way that he made me laugh without saying anything at all and the way he made me feel so small engulfed in his long arms, yet so safe at the same time. I missed feeling his lips against mine, the warmth from his skin, the way he played with my hair—twirling it around his fingers and then smoothing it out with his hand. I decided in that moment that I was going to tell him in my next letter and let him decide for himself what he wanted to do. I couldn’t keep it from him any longer.
I decided to spend the rest of my break at home, relishing in the comfort of its familiar walls and my mother’s cooking. I spent my days playing video games with Scott on the new system that he had got for Christmas, reading my new book and sleeping. I spent an afternoon with Morgan’s family, sharing all the details of college life, trying to ignore their pained expressions as their thoughts drifted, no doubt, to the fact that Morgan should have been there sharing the same stories.
The weekend before classes were scheduled to start, my mother drove me back to Seattle with Scott in tow. We all spent the night crammed into Marie’s small apartment, Mom and Scott returning over the mountains the following morning.
Marie dropped me off at the dorm, but, before I could get out of the car, she asked, “Is everything okay with you, Kendi?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I responded a little too quickly.
“Because you know if you aren’t fine, you can talk to me. I’m always here for you.”
“I know, and I love you for that.” I tried to smile but I was reeling inside with the idea of telling her everything in that moment. Instead, I gave her a brief hug and stepped out into the freezing rain. I needed to tell Adam first, and, as I made my way up the stairs to my dorm room, I decided to write him a letter that instant and actually send it.
&
nbsp; I sat down and wrote the most difficult letter that I had ever written, knowing that he would actually read this one, my resolve to finally come clean unwavering. I told him what I should have told him that day I took the test and every day since then. I begged him not to hate me, hoping against all odds that he could forgive me. I sealed the envelope, which was the closest that I had ever come to actually mailing him a letter containing the truth and left it on my desk, as I started to unpack my bag full of clean clothes.
Tabatha came barging into the room, breathing heavily from the two flights of stairs she had just walked up, dragging her huge suitcase behind her.
“Hey, Kendi, you’re back,” she said, running over to give me a hug.
“How was home, Tab?” I asked as I hugged her too.
“Great. You’ll never guess what happened.”
It was amazing how her tiny body could fill the entire space of a room, her strong presence exuding confidence and enthusiasm.
“What?” I asked, a million ideas running through my mind.
“I hooked up with my ex. I ran into him at a party, and he told me that he can’t stop thinking about me and that he still loves me, and then I went home with him.”
“Wow, so are you guys back together?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I told him that I needed time to think about whether or not I wanted to have a long-distance relationship. I told him that I would write to him. Watching you write love letters to Adam and seeing how excited you are when you read his letters is inspiring. It seems so romantic,” she said, raising her shoulders and opening her eyes wide and dreamily.
I wanted to tell her how depressing it could be and how not romantic it was, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble, so I just smiled.
“Speaking of letters...I stopped at the mailbox, and someone had a love letter waiting for them already.” She waved an envelope in front of me, and I recognized my name written in Adam’s handwriting.
I snatched it out of her hands before she could tease me with it any longer and sat down on my bed to open it.
Tabatha started to unpack her suitcase, hanging her clothes up piece by piece in her overflowing closet.
I lay back against my pillow and started to read Adam’s letter.
Kendi,
I hope that you had a wonderful Christmas. We tried to show the people here a traditional Christmas, but it wasn’t quite the same. I miss the snow and the smell of the Douglas firs, but mostly I miss you. I miss you so much. I hope that you got everything that you wanted, and I hope that you had a good time with your family and friends from home.
I need to tell you something, and I hope that you can be understanding and open-minded, because I am not sure that I could survive without your support.
I have been called to serve as a minister of faith here in Ghana. This is a huge honor. I will be studying to become a minister while I am here, and I will be serving as one when I return. I am not sure where I will end up yet, but I have plenty of time to figure that out. I hope that this doesn’t change the way you feel about me. I still love you so much, and I want nothing more than to share my life with you, but this is the path that I have chosen, and I hope that you can live with that.
There is more.... Because of the schooling that I will be going through as well as fulfilling my mission duties in the fields, I will be here an extra twelve months. I know that this is a lot to digest, Kendi. I can just imagine your shock as you are reading this. Please don’t give up on me. I am really excited about this new calling, and, even though I miss you like crazy, I am so happy right now.
I hope that you can find it in your heart to be happy for me too!
I love you, and I will be waiting to hear from you.
Always,
Adam
I was in shock as I stared at his letter. I wasn’t expecting that at all. I read it again and again, trying to comprehend what his words really meant. The letter changed everything between us. I wanted to feel angry that he was making this choice, but it wasn’t fair, knowing that I was struggling with my own choices and keeping secrets that could destroy him, destroy us. But I couldn’t deny how much it hurt that I was not his first choice, that he was not desperate to come home to me. That he was happy with his decision, the decision to become a minister without anyone forcing his hand.
“Are you okay, Kendi?” Tabatha asked as she sat beside me on my bed.
“Not really. Adam just told me that he’s staying another year, so he’ll be gone a total of three years,” I said, without looking up from his letter.
“Oh, my God. That’s like an eternity. What are y’all going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I think I’ll go for a run.” I folded Adam’s letter, reinforcing the folds over and over again, still stunned from his news.
“I’m sorry, Kendi. Do you wanna come with me to the café for dinner later?”
Tabatha was not fazed by my sudden need to run. She knew that running was my outlet; just like I knew that chocolate was hers. She usually kept a few Hershey bars under her mattress for emergencies.
“Sure, I won’t be long.” I was already in my running clothes, planning to go for a run at some point that day. I had missed running during the two weeks spent at home in the freezing, snowy weather. I laced up my running shoes, grabbed Adam’s letter and the one that I had just written to him and headed down the stairs.
It had stopped raining temporarily, but I zipped up my windbreaker just in case. I tossed the sealed envelope addressed to Adam in the large trash can outside my building and stuffed his letter in my jacket pocket. I started to run, heading for the nearest path. Tears were already clouding my vision before I reached it. My life had just become so much more complicated. I could not send that letter to Adam. He was happy, and this would crush him. It would completely change his life and the path that he had just chosen for himself. I couldn’t tell him.... I just couldn’t.
I was starting to feel winded and my side was cramping up, a result of taking two weeks off. I stopped to catch my breath and decided to sit on a bench for a few minutes. I felt an indescribable movement from inside, a subtle flutter at first, followed by something pushing against my belly from the inside. I instinctively reached under my shirt and jacket and held my hands against the skin of my abdomen, just in time to feel it again. This was unmistakably the baby moving inside me. I gently pressed my hand against the tiny movement, and it pushed back again a moment later.
The reality of this pregnancy finally hit me, coupled with the fact that I was alone, and I suddenly felt scared, more scared than I have ever been in my life. I started walking, lost in my despair. At some point it started to rain again, and I pulled my hood over my head, still walking without any real destination in mind. I eventually found myself outside Marie’s building and realized that I had been walking for over two hours. I was drenched and cold as I pushed the button for her apartment.
She buzzed me in, and I rode in the elevator to the fourth floor, knocking on her door a few minutes later.
“Oh, my God, Kendi. You’re soaking wet and shivering. Did you walk here? What’s wrong?”
Her questions came at me rapidly, as she took in the sight of me. I couldn’t speak. The thoughts were there to answer her questions, but my brain wasn’t connected to my mouth at the moment. She brought me inside and pulled my wet jacket off me, wrapping me in a warm blanket. She removed my shoes and socks and set them aside.
“Kendi, talk to me. You’re scaring me. What happened?”
She sat next to me on the couch, holding me like a small child as my body shook uncontrollably. Slowly my body temperature returned to normal, and I tried to speak, but the words were barely a whisper. “Adam’s...not...coming home...for three years.”
“What? Is that what this is about?” She seemed confused by the state that I was in.
“I’m...preg...pregnant.” Just saying it aloud for the first time left me in uncontrollable sobs.
Ma
rie didn’t say anything; she held me tight against her and let me cry for what felt like hours.
When the tears finally stopped coming and I was able to catch my breath, she walked me to the bathroom and started the shower for me. “Take a hot shower. You’re still shivering. And then we’ll talk. I’ll make some hot tea. Everything’s going to be okay, Kendi.”
I just nodded and started to undress as Marie left the room. The steaming-hot water felt good on my cold skin. I stood under it until I felt it turn cold. Marie had set a towel and some pajamas on the counter for me. I slowly got dressed and brushed my hair, pulling it up into a bun. I felt so tired. I just wanted to sleep, but I knew that Marie was probably ready to explode with questions. I sat back down on the couch, covering myself with a blanket and waited for the inquisition to begin. Marie handed me a steaming cup of peach tea, my favorite. I wrapped both of my hands around the cup, trying to draw as much warmth from it as I could.
Marie was so motherly. She always had been. She was nearly five years older than me and looked more like my father, while I had more of my mom’s features. Marie had thick strawberry-blond hair, always cut at chin level, with light blue eyes. Her skin was pale but smooth, like porcelain, and she stood an inch taller than me. She was always a little more curvy than me but in all the right places.
“I called Tabatha to let her know that you were here. I didn’t want her to worry,” she said as she sipped her tea. “Kendi, tell me what happened.”
I told her about that night in August in Adam’s bedroom, the pregnancy test, the lie I told Adam, the letter I got from him today and feeling the baby move for the first time.
When I was done, she was speechless. She sipped her tea in silence.
“Say something,” I pleaded, afraid of what she thought of me.
“What should I say, Kendi? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“I don’t know. I was scared.”
“Well, you need to tell Adam. You can’t keep this from him. He will find out eventually, and, the longer you wait, the worse it will be.”
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