Left Hanging

by Cindy Dorminy

  She huffs. Typical. “Say you’ll give us another chance.”

  I close my eyes. Of course she wants me to give her another chance. That’s the right thing to do. The boa constrictor around my heart squeezes out the answer she wants. That’s what I know I should do. But I’m not sure I want to. I nod.

  She exhales and wraps her arms around my waist, while my hopes of a life with Darla drift away in the warm summer breeze. I want kids so badly, I would suffer through a loveless life to be a father.

  “How far along are you?”

  “Um, not sure. About a month.” She twists her necklace around her index finger, making the last joint of her finger beet red.

  I nod. But in my mind, I’m doing the math. I’ve been back in Nashville for a month, and it has been longer than that since the last time we were intimate. Maybe she’s further along than she thinks.

  “But we haven’t—”

  “Maybe a bit longer. I’m not sure.”

  I brace myself for the coming wrath. “Have you been with—”

  “Theo! How dare you ask me such a thing.” She sniffles. “That’s the meanest.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought we were being real careful. Condoms, birth control pills, you name it.”

  “Me too,” she whispers.

  “I need some time to process all of this. You know I will do what’s right for the baby, but… I can’t promise you anything more. Not yet.”

  She blinks at me as though she can’t believe I didn’t cave. She plasters on a thin-lipped smile. “Of course.”

  Mallory has the maternal instincts of a Tasmanian devil, so if this child stands half a chance of being nurtured, I have to be involved on some level.

  There has to be a way to make this right and still be with Darla. And if not, I might go against my no-alcohol rule and pour myself a stiff drink or two.

  Mallory kisses me on my cheek. “I’ll call you later.” She gets in her car and drives away.

  I stand at my car, consumed by the silence. I’m going to be a father. This is the one thing I didn’t think could ever happen. I should be thrilled, but I’m not.

  A few people shuffle out of the fitness center, and Darla locks the door. That’s why I can’t be happy. Because she still holds the key to my soul, and I don’t want it back. She notices me.

  I try to get in my car and hide, but it’s too late. From across the parking lot, she cocks her head to the side. No matter how I try to hide my pained expression, her maternal instincts must kick in, because she zones in on my emotions.

  She rushes over to me. “Hey, I thought you had an emergency.”

  I nod. “It’s being taken care of, for now.”

  “That’s good.”

  She slides an arm around my waist, but for once, I’m not feeling frisky. I move her arm away from me. She holds her hands out in defense.

  I lean over the roof of my car and rub my temples. Her baby-lotion scent wafts over me.

  “Do you want to talk?” Darla asks.

  We sit in my car for what feels like an eternity, neither of us saying a word. I swallow the massive amount of crap that has accumulated in my throat. I cannot believe I’m about to say this to her, but she deserves to know the truth. I would never try to keep anything like this from her.

  “The text was from Mallory.”

  “Is she all right?”

  I nod. “She’s uh… she’s pregnant.”

  I don’t want to see her reaction, but I have to; I have to face her.

  She stares out of the window on her side of the car. She bites her bottom lip, and a slight tear trickles down her cheek.

  “Congratulations,” she whispers and opens the door.

  She gets out and rushes away. Seeing her run off kills me. I know, at this moment, I have lost her for good. No matter how much I love Darla, I have to do what is right for this baby.

  If it is my baby.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Theo

  Dawn in Nashville is one of the prettiest scenes there is. When the sun rises over the Cumberland River, the entire downtown glows with shades of pink and orange. The blooming crepe myrtles in varying shades of pinks, reds, and purples line the sidewalks next to skyscrapers and honky-tonks. The AT&T building, known by locals as the Batman building, shimmers in the first light of day. Joggers line the streets, getting their miles in before the humidity makes the air too thick to move.

  I haven’t slept in days. In fact, I haven’t left my apartment except to go to the hospital. But I’m so sick of staring at the same walls, and Tommy is tired of seeing me mope, that I had to get some fresh air—fresh air and good, strong coffee. My brother has taken up nail-biting, and I’m afraid to tell him too much because he has always been on team anti-Mallory. He doesn’t need another reason to dislike her.

  I need my sister. Jennifer is my rock when the going gets tough, but she’s still away. Telling her about Mallory is not a conversation I want to have over the phone. I need a warm hug surrounding me, letting me know everything will be fine. And I’m definitely not getting my folks involved in this mess until I absolutely have to, so I’m on my own.

  So much for fraternity brotherhood. I thought my frat brothers and I would stay in touch, but I can’t think of a single person from college that I would want to talk to about this.

  I’m still numb from the realization that I am going to be a father. If the mother had been anyone else, I would have been jumping for joy. If it had been Darla, we would celebrate the announcement and have my father marry us the next day. With Mallory, there is no passion; there is no “’til death do us part” feeling. I know it. She knows it.

  Mallory isn’t a completely bad person, but we were always going in two separate directions. When I needed to sleep after sixteen hours of being on service, she wanted to barhop. When I needed to study, she wanted to go to a concert. When I wanted to go to church, she wanted to go shopping. We’re like oil and water, and the thought of being tied to her for the rest of my life raises my blood pressure to a dangerous level.

  I drag myself down the street to the local coffee shop. I used to spend a lot of time here when I was in college. It has an eclectic vibe to it. Along with tons of Vanderbilt memorabilia, it also has autographed photos of famous people who have been customers here. They are secured underneath the acrylic table coverings so it doesn’t matter if anyone spills a drink. I order two large coffees and find a table near the front—the Vince Gill table—when I see Isaac enter. I wave him over.

  “Hey, I got your text. What’s up?” He sits down, and I slide one cup of coffee toward him. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I need someone to talk to, someone not genetically linked to the issue at hand.”

  “Sure.” He takes a swig. “You know Darla and I are tight, but anything you say to me won’t go any further than here.”

  “I appreciate that. I guess you heard.”

  He clears his throat. I stare off to watch a couple saunter across the street, hand in hand, headed for the park. They act as though they don’t have a care in the world. Must be nice.

  “I don’t love her,” I finally say.

  “Who?”

  “Mallory. I don’t love her. She doesn’t love me. She likes the idea of me. I can’t give her what she wants.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Prestige. A fancy house. Nannies. Tons of jewelry.”

  “Ahh.” He takes a swig from his coffee. “She wants to be married to a doctor and all that that implies.”

  I nod. “It’s not who I am.” I take a gulp, not caring if it scalds my esophagus. This stuff sure is better than hospital cafeteria coffee. It costs a lot more too. I glance around the crowded coffee shop, making sure no one is paying attention to our co
nversation. “She’s like an eight-track tape.”

  “You mean that thing before cassettes?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah. My parents still have a tape deck in their stereo.”

  “I never understood why they called them eight-track tapes when they only had four tracks.”

  “Me either,” I say. “But this is what happened when you listened to the tape too much. One track would bleed over to the next track, and neither track sounded good anymore.”

  He crinkles his nose. “I hated when that happened.”

  “She’s not good for me, and even though she’ll never admit it, I’m not good for her.”

  We sip our coffee for a moment before Isaac breaks the silence. “Tell her she has the wrong guy.”

  “I’m supposed to be infertile.”

  Isaac drops his coffee cup. The lid pops off, and we both jump up and do our best to soak up the spill with napkins from the dispenser. Hot liquid spreads all over the table and drips down the side.

  A barista runs over to assist us. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it cleaned up and get you another cup.”

  “Sorry for the mess,” Isaac says to her. He focuses back on me. “I don’t want to be a jerk, but maybe it’s not yours.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind. And she could be lying, but that would be an all-time low, even for her.”

  “You could demand a paternity test.”

  I lean back in my chair. “No.”

  The barista returns and hands Isaac another cup before leaning down to sop up the mess from the floor.

  “That would make her seem like a slut and—”

  “Dude, you broke up… how long ago? She could have been sleeping her way across the city; you don’t know.”

  I clench my jaw. “She’s not like that.”

  He sips his coffee. “People deal with rejection in many ways. Maybe there’s no baby at all.”

  “Time will tell, I guess.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “I already told you—”

  “Darla,” he says. “Do you love her?”

  “Yeah,” the barista says. “Do you?”

  Isaac points to the barista as if to say, “What she said.”

  I take them both in. Isaac is usually a wisecracker, but right now, he’s as serious as a melanoma. And the barista waits for my answer as if she’s my new best friend.

  “Since the day I first saw her. It’s like I dissected my heart and handed it to her in the middle of microbiology class.”

  “Awww,” the barista whines, clutching her chest as she leaves our table.

  Isaac cringes. “A simple yes would have been good enough.”

  “Can I tell you something if you promise not to laugh?” I make sure the barista is long gone before I continue. We are not besties, no matter what she thinks.

  “First, let me put my coffee down. I don’t want a repeat performance.” He holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  I lean in close to him. “She was my first.”

  His eyes get big, and he cocks one eyebrow up so far that it’s hidden in his hairline. “Shut the front door.”

  “It’s true.” I can feel the heat rising up my neck and burning my face with a permanent flush. I probably look as though I have a gigantic port wine stain across my face. “Yep. Dr. Edwards was a frickin’ virgin until that little darling paraded into the frat party our senior year.”

  He giggles. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe. But two young virgins going at it? That’s… sweet.”

  “Well, I have a moral compass. It meant something to me.”

  “So where does that compass point you right now?”

  I crunch my empty coffee cup. “I think it’s broken.”

  He chuckles. “At least you got one. I fly by the seat of my thong.”

  I shudder at the mental picture.

  “Listen, I can’t tell you what to do. Nobody can. Obviously, I’ve never been in your situation. You have to do what you think you can live with. But you don’t have to marry someone to fulfill your moral obligation to a child.”

  He’s right. I know he’s right, but I would feel like a deadbeat dad if I didn’t marry her. That sounds like something out of a fifties sitcom, but I’m old-fashioned.

  “The only advice I can give you is to not make any hasty decisions. Every time I do, it always comes back to nibble on my ass.”

  Too much information.

  My thoughts go back to Darla. “How is she?”

  He swallows hard. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “I have to know. She won’t answer my calls. I even went to her house, but she switched off the front-porch light and wouldn’t open the door.”

  His dark eyes fill with tears. “She’s broken. I’ve never seen her so unreachable. Not even when she found out she was pregnant.”

  I cover my face with my hands. We were so close to having our happy ending, and I went and ruined it. I’ve ruined her. “Please take care of her for me.”

  “Of course. Shelby and I have been alternating staying with her at night. We don’t want her to be alone right now. The little kiddo will be back first of next week, so that will help her get back to the land of the living.”

  Isaac focuses on the couple at a nearby table. “It was really, really hard for her to let you in, and now—”

  “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  “I better get to work,” he says.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  We stand to leave. He gives me a big bear hug. It’s not one of those bro hugs where a guy wants to show affection for someone he cares about without being too sappy. This is an all-out “I care for you and don’t care who sees” hug.

  I hug him back. God, I needed that. I needed to know that someone cares about what I am going through.

  “Thanks,” I croak as a tear flows down my cheek. I wipe it away before he can see it.

  “Sure thing, brother.” He saunters away, and I notice him brush a tear away too. I still don’t know what to do, but I am certain I’ve ruined the best thing that will ever happen to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Darla

  My damn computer won’t type automatically. Stupid, stupid computer. I can’t get past the bomb that was dropped on me three days ago. Tears pour out every moment I’m alone and sometimes when I’m around friends. My trash can overflows with snot rags. I don’t remember the last time I ate. I think I took a shower this morning but can’t swear that I actually put soap to skin. If it weren’t for Isaac, my left shoe wouldn’t match my right one today. I glance down to make sure I have on pants because I don’t remember getting dressed this morning. My thoughts keep bouncing around in my head as if I’m in a pinball machine.

  I thought I would be the one to ruin my relationship with Theo. And I never thought it would hurt so much. But it’s definitely over now. Kaput. It’s finished before it could even get started. I guess this would be the worst possible time to tell him about Stella. One more revelation would send him straight to the psych hospital.

  I take out a little photo of Stella on her first day of school. She was so excited to carry her backpack filled with school supplies. I was able to hold my tears until I had dropped her off. After that, the floodgates opened.

  I keep this photo in my wallet for when I need a pick-me-up. And today, I need a huge pick-me-up. I wish she were here with me so I could smother her with smooches. She would help me get through the pain without even knowing she was doing anything significant. Less than a week to go until she’s home. I can make it. I know it’s still super early on the West Coast, but I can’t stand it any longer. I dial Diane’s phone, and on the fourth ring, my sister answers.

  “This better be important,�
�� she says. She switches the phone so we can FaceTime. Diane’s eyes pop wide open. “You okay?”

  “Having a bad day. Is Stella awake?”

  She yawns. “No, but I think you need to see her face.”

  I nod and wipe a tear away. “I do.”

  “Hold on a sec.” Diane slides out of the bed, and I see her husband in the background throw a pillow over his head. She meanders down the hallway, giving me a chance to wipe my tears and practice my faux happiness.

  “Stella, Mommy’s on the phone. She wants to say good morning.” Diane moves the phone so I can see my sweet little girl all curled up in a ball. I miss my sweet girl so much.

  Her eyes flutter open. “Hey,” she says, her voice soft and sleepy.

  “Hey, baby. Sorry I woke you up.” Already, I feel a thousand percent better.

  “K,” she says, closing her eyes again.

  Diane swivels the phone around until I see her face. “Sorry. It’s five o’clock here. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nod, trying to convince myself. “Yeah. I was really missing her. That’s all. Don’t tell her I was upset. I don’t want to mess up her fun.” I sniffle, and my voice catches in my throat.

  Diane doesn’t seem convinced. “Call back in about three hours. She’ll be up by that time.”

  I end the call and stare at the phone.

  “Hey, cutie.” Isaac leans up against my doorframe. “You look like hell.”

  “Nice to see you too.” I slide the photo back into my wallet and toss it into my open purse.

  He sits down on my desk. “I wish I could make it all better.”

  “Me too. But even my fairy godmother can’t fix this.”

  He pouts. “It will get better.”

  I put my head down. Even Isaac, Mr. Chatty Cathy, cannot find the words to make me feel better.

  “I really thought you two were meant to be together.”

  “Me too,” I mumble.

  He stands and looms over my desk. “I’m going to say this, and I might go to hell for it. I don’t think there’s a baby.”