Finding My Reason

by Claudia Burgoa

  On the fridge, there’s a magnet I haven’t seen in quite some time. It was from the first trip I ever took with Jade. A bottle opener magnet, metallic with a rainbow chrome color scheme, Cabo engraved onto the front side of it. We had taken to buying magnets during our first few trips as a way to commemorate each one. At some point, we got lazy and dropped the idea. The magnet holds a piece of paper.

  Hudson,

  Remember when we said we’ll be together until it wasn’t fun for one of us? I think this is it. It’s time for us to go our separate ways before we break each other into tiny pieces. Finish on a good note before we begin to hate each other. See, I can’t make you be someone you’re not. But I can’t live a lie either.

  I’ve tried. God knows I had done the impossible to get past wanting a family with you. But it’s hard to not imagine a little Drago, a home and a dog of our own. We’re on different paths, and I have to see where mine leads. I hope yours leads to happiness. It’s better off this way.

  All my love,

  Jade ♥

  She wants to leave on a good note? Leaving wasn’t an option. We had plans, didn’t we? Anger burns my insides at the realization she almost took off without giving me a chance to defend myself. Well, she can go and fuck herself. I crumple the slip until it’s unrecognizable, tossing it as far across the room as I can.

  Me: You were leaving without saying goodbye?

  Jade: I thought about doing that, but then, I... Does it matter?

  Me: The end result was the same. You left me.

  Jade: Please don’t hate me.

  Me: Fuck you!

  I throw my phone against the wall. Then I do the same with a dirty glass from the sink. It shatters against the living room wall. The echo is cathartic. I go ahead and grab another, throwing with more force. I scream in rage to accompany it’s dying cry before slumping onto the kitchen floor. Deep down I knew she’d do it. Leave, like my mother did my father. What now? How am I supposed to live without her?

  For the first time in years, I have no fucking clue what to do. The one person I trusted my heart to did the same thing my mother did.

  Abandon me.

  Chapter 22

  Jade

  February 15th, 2016

  “So do you have a plan?” Libby asks me over breakfast.

  “Plan for what?” I respond, genuinely confused. My head is pounding, my body aching, my heart broken and she wants me to follow her out of context questions. “Today? Work and search for a reliable car that won’t cost me more than what I have in my savings account.”

  Sharing Hud’s SUV for the past few years was convenient, until I realized we couldn’t split it after we broke up. I shouldn’t have offered to pay half of the down payment or help him with the monthly payments. Fuck, I was stupid.

  Don’t blame yourself, Jade, you were working towards a goal, I remind myself. Sharing your life with him. Being partners, and becoming a grown up couple.

  “That’s good but...well, you know.” My best friend waves around her left hand awkwardly like it’s carrying a plate while her right continues to hold her piping hot cup of tea. “You sort of dumped your longtime boyfriend and moved into my two-bedroom apartment with my teenage daughter and me. Was there a rest of the plan, or are you just making this shit up as you go? Because you barely change your pajamas, leave the apartment or even shower more than once a week.”

  I flinch at her bluntness. Leave it to Libby to have an overactive penchant for making everything sound like it’s straight off a soap opera. “You make me sound like a train wreck.”

  “It’s not that, Jadey.” A curly strand of strawberry blonde hair falls in-between her eyes. She blows it up in frustration. “You’re just here all the time. Making money, sure, I won’t complain about that. But what did you expect was going to happen after leaving? That he’s going to rush through my door demanding you come home?”

  “Of course not,” I assure her sternly. That never occurred to me, but obviously, he doesn’t care enough to even come in person and talk our shit out. He warned me when I left, once I closed the door, we became strangers. “I just need some time to get over him before finding my own place.”

  Libby bursts out into a loud, unmistakable laughter. I scowl, not amused.

  “Sorry, Jadey Wadey.” She pats my shoulder. She gave me that stupid nickname in elementary school, and she only adds “Wadey” when she thinks I’m being stupid or cute.

  I roll my eyes at her. “I don’t see what’s so funny, Libby.”

  “You clearly thought I was going to help you get over Hudson. But let me tell you something, honey,” she takes another gulp of tea, “I have tried numerous times over the years to set you up. Ever since the first time you met Hudson, you were screwed. You are incapable of being anything but in love with him, and I can’t count the number of guys you went on dates with to try to get him out of your head.”

  “What do you suggest I—” Before I finish my protest, a horrible wave of nausea sends me racing to the bathroom.

  You know your life has hit an all-time low when you expect your morning to start by choking on your own vomit. For the past three days, I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but puking my guts out. The coolness of the porcelain throne against my forehead has become oddly soothing. I’m fighting a bit to regain the normal tempo of my breathing.

  I’m still waiting for the nausea to pass when I hear knocking on the bathroom door.

  “Come in,” I croak.

  Libby pushes the door open gently like she’s worried about causing bodily harm to me on accident. “You look like shit, honey.” She bends down to pat my back sympathetically.

  “Gee, thanks.” I snort, glancing up from the bowl slightly. “So what are the odds of cancer topping off my fucked up year list?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Libby chastises. “There’s ‘sick’ and ‘I’m dying’ sick. You’re not dying, Jadey.”

  “But I feel like I am.” I moan pathetically. “I can’t go a single breakfast without puking up my coffee and eggs. I wasn’t even eating anything! I just caught a whiff of your food.”

  “Jesus.” Libby sympathizes with me. I know that much is true. “Thought about going to the doctor? Maybe you should try getting a change of scenery? You haven’t traveled in a while.”

  I get up slowly, steadying myself with the counter. I furrow my eyebrows suspiciously at Libby. I can’t tell if she’s trying to help or just kicking me out. “Nah, Ben talked me into taking a freelance position for the Post. I can work remotely from here. With everything I have to pay by myself, getting an extra gig is exactly what I need.”

  “Whose ass did he have to kiss for that?”

  “He’s his own boss,” I remind her. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover next month’s rent myself if money’s getting tight.”

  “It’s not about the money, Jadey. You know I get paid well. My problem,” Libby says pointedly, “is the sorry sight of seeing my best friend mope around all day in her pajamas. I just want to see you happy.”

  “And I’m working on it, Libs, don’t worry.” I let her usher me out of the bathroom and to the forest green couch in the main room—Also known as my current sleeping arrangement.

  “But you’re not being proactive enough,” the redhead insists. “You could do it...not here. You could get a fresh start in your. Very. Own. Apartment. How does that sound?”

  I’m dumbstruck. I feel the urge to yell at her for not listening to what I have to say. But then I pause, considering my options carefully. I take a deep breath and inquire, as diplomatically as possible, “As in move out sooner rather than later? But I need my best friend right now.”

  “Jadey, sweetie.” She smiles tenderly at me. “You don’t need to live here to have our support. You still have Heather and me right here like we always are.”

  I scrutinize Libby’s face carefully. Searching for some reasoning that isn’t as sugar-coated. I’ve made up my mind to bring in the voice of re
ason in this household. I yell unapologetically, “Heather!”

  A lanky brunette young woman comes out of the apartment’s other bedroom. At seventeen and five feet eight inches, Heather Clark looked more like her father than anyone. Her heart shaped face and downturned eyes framed her small, regal nose well. On many occasions, Heather had tried to convince Libby to let her drop out of school to become a professional model. Being the daughter of two engineers with Ph.D.’s, she’s never gotten far in those conversations.

  Heather looks bored and impatient with our squabbling. “What’s up?”

  “Why is Libby trying to kick me out?”

  “You ruined her date last night with all your puking,” Heather answers bluntly. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Libby’s daughter.

  “Thank you.” I reach over to grab my purse on the coffee table. I pull out a twenty and hand it to Heather on the other side of the table.

  Heather preens smugly, grabbing her backpack next to the front door, she heads out for a study session. Or at least that’s what her mumbling sounds like. I’m never entirely sure, but Libby seems to always understand what her daughter’s saying. Libby looks flabbergasted. “You pay my daughter to rat me out!”

  I shrug, feigning innocence. “Only when you won’t tell me things. And I keep offering to help more with the bills. She doesn’t get an allowance so I thought I could at least give her a little pocket change...”

  Libby rubs her temples with her right hand. “Regardless.” She ignores the lecture she’s dying to give me about “overstepping boundaries.” Heather has to learn how to pay for her own things, we shouldn’t be enabling her, blah, blah, blah. “There’s an apartment up for rent downstairs. It’s right under mine. I already leased it under my name. Security deposit and first month’s rent is already taken care of. All you have to do is grab your shit that’s taking up my entire closet,” she gestures with large arm movements, “and move it downstairs.”

  “You’re kicking me out, you bitch.” I sigh in resignation. She’s right. It’s better this way. I have to get my butt in gear and move on. Moping doesn’t look pretty. As I stand up, the waft of my own scent makes me want to puke. A bath. I need one of those before leaving this place. I voluntarily collapse back onto the couch, huffing in exhaustion. “Fine. But I get to keep my invitation to meal times and movie nights.”

  “Deal.” Libby nods. “All right, I’m going to work now. Try not to make too much of a mess downstairs before I get back.”

  • • •

  Although Libby had my best interest, moving downstairs wasn’t an option. I spoke to the landlord who returned her first month’s rent and deposit, and leased me an apartment in downtown Denver. If I am to become independent and take the reins of my life, I have to do it right. Like choosing the right area, live close to where my clients work. Living in Boulder is nice for a couple of months while wallowing in self-pity. Since that option is taken off my plate, I step into the next stage of my healing process.

  Goodbye, old life, hello... I’m not sure, but I’m heading there with my heart open and full of love and fond memories. Physically moving wasn’t hard; I rented a van to gather my stuff, which was mostly unopened and tightly packed into Libby’s walk-in closet. The more I think about it, the more I realize Libby probably wanted to kick me out about a week after she first let me crash at her place. Bless her heart.

  I save the heavy box for last— a fact I’m both thankful for and hating right now. The box has several books and knick-knacks that used to adorn the large shelf of our old bookcase—the one that’s probably bare in Hudson’s place right now. With everything going on the last few months, I’m not even completely sure what I grabbed. I knew the third shelf from the bottom had exclusively my stuff, so that’s what I packed in a hurry on New Year’s Day.

  I can’t help but ponder why I was stupid enough to pack an entire extra-large box with books and fragile items. I struggle to carefully creep down the stairs slowly while balancing the box in both arms with my right hip as support. It reminds me of holding Michael or Wyatt. I regret not making time for them this last month for fear of bumping into Hudson. I should offer to babysit this weekend.

  Anyway, I’m halfway up the stairs when my arms feel like they’re about to give out. I’m quickly losing grip of the box. I nearly trip over myself trying to rebalance it. Right as I’m about to fall, the motion’s stopped by something pushing against the front side of the box.

  “Need help?” a smooth baritone says in front of me. I look up to see this gorgeous man with sleek black hair and a chiseled alabaster jaw that perfectly frames the smirk on the man’s face.

  Why can’t I stop staring at his hot face? He probably thinks I’m some crazy cat woman or an inept fool. I clear my throat and smile politely. Keep it together, Jade. You’re single, not terminally ill...I think. “Please, I’d really appreciate that.”

  “Not a problem.” The man takes hold of the entire box and lifts it effortlessly. Is it weird for me to ask if he has a personal trainer? I wouldn’t mind some strength like that.

  I’m snapped out of this inner monologue by the cute guy asking, “Where to?” He continued down the stairs.

  It takes me a moment to think. “Uh, 204.”

  “Moving in the middle of a snow storm?” he inquires playfully.

  “Snow storm? You haven’t lived in Colorado for long, have you?” He shakes his head, turning a shade of red. “Wait until April. That’s when we usually have blizzards every day,” I try to joke.

  He doesn’t seem to get it and turns around looking perplexed. “Do they close the state?”

  The scent of his lotion revolts me I...don’t think I have the time or patience to explain the joke to him and keep myself from puking on his shoes. “Never mind, it’s this one on the right.” I point and walk ahead of him to unlock the door.

  He asks where he can set the box down, so I ask him to put it on the kitchen counter. I walk him to the door, trying to come off as casual as I can.

  “Thanks again for helping me out,” I say, holding my breath. Please, leave before I make an ass of myself.

  “No problem.” He grins. Then he closes his eyes and puts a finger to his temple. “Oh and I know what you’re thinking right now.”

  Ah, a psychic and a comedian. Thank goodness, I took a bath. Maybe we can talk about those powers over dinner. Should I ask him? No, wait... He stares at me, waiting for something. What? Maybe I have been out of the game for too long? I might as well play along for the sake of being neighborly. “Do you?” I try to sound impressed.

  He nods eagerly. “And the answers to your questions are, in order: Connor, 210 down the hall to the left, and I have every other afternoon off. So just let me know if you need any other box to be moved.”

  I laugh. He—Connor—is a bit charming after all. “Duly noted. I’ll let you know the next time I have a box-related emergency.”

  I wave at him and close the door softly, letting him know we’re done talking, run to the bathroom and puke one more time. Brushing my teeth, I check my phone. I have some time before my brother calls, so I don’t see a reason to put off unpacking. I start with the closest box, the one filled with books. On the kitchen island, it’s towering over me. Luckily the apartment came with barstools. I put on some indie band Heather’s been trying to get me to listen to for months.

  It takes me some time, but I’m almost to the bottom of the stack. I’ve started organizing the books by topic around the kitchen. I can’t believe how many biographies I’ve read. When I uncover the last book in the box, I gasp. Last year when I told Claire I was thinking about marriage and starting a family, she gave a giant book about pregnancy to show support. I feel my eyes welling up with tears. It’s like I’m still in my old apartment, listening to Hudson’s rejection of everything I thought we were working towards.

  I wonder if I should give this back to Claire? Or if she would let me burn it in solidarity. I shrug, mindlessly flipping through
the pages. I stop when I find a sticky note a third of the way through the book. It’s in Claire’s handwriting.

  I’m so excited for you, Jade. Once you have a date for the wedding, we’ll start organizing it. This is for you, so you can start getting ready for the baby. Having a child is a huge responsibility, but they’re worth every tear, sleepless night, a bout of heartburn or morning sickness. I know you’ll be just fine. Remember, we’re always here for you. ~ Claire

  I laugh to myself for a moment. If only she had known then, maybe she wouldn’t have leant this to me and tell me how beautiful is to have a children and how worth it is to...

  Wait...morning sickness?

  I go through the index looking for answers to this morning sickness that might not be cancer. Early symptoms of pregnancy. My mind races as my eyes skim the page.

  Shit.

  Chapter 23

  Jade

  February 19th, 2016

  Three at home pregnancy tests, one blood test, and a sonogram confirmed my suspicions.

  I’m pregnant.

  Libby suspected it but didn’t say a word because she believed I wasn’t ready. She didn’t explain much but reminded me that I had her. And like with Heather, we had each other to get through a pregnancy and raise a child. Not that I raised Heather, but I was Libby’s support during that time. Ben wants to kick Hudson’s ass, and for me to move with him to DC. Mom... I am standing on her porch, looking at the doorbell, wondering what I’m going to tell her.

  “Who is it?” I hear Mom’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

  “Hey, Mom.” I try to sound as excited as possible.

  Janelle Vance is the most professional human being on the planet. She’s sixty-four, but her idea of dressing down is jeans, a chiffon top, a statement necklace and heels. Case in point right now, she’s dressed better than most people.

  Her skin has always been on the darker side of the spectrum, but that makes it all the easier for her to flaunt her regal cheekbones and beautiful round nose. My mom always made it a point to make me stop and appreciate the body I was given. Even if people constantly give me shit for not “appreciating my culture.” Which is usually code for they think I’m of their ethnicity.