by Tory Jane
After two years of grunt work, I became his business partner. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. He believed in me, trusted me. He encouraged me to develop my style, to take on projects of my own. I began to rejoin society. I needed people to buy what I was creating. For the first time, I craved an audience.
I remember seeing you at a party that summer. A pretty, perfect princess. It must have been during your Republican lawyer phase (yes, you told me about him). I think you were wearing pearls? Is that possible? Oh, Bella, my actress.
I heard you ask one of your old high school friends who I was. You didn't remember me. Oh, you crushed me. We'd known each other since we were babies. Had I changed that much? I guess I wasn't a yucky, stinky boy anymore.
You made eyes at me all night. Admit it, you did. To punish you, I ignored you and flirted with every girl there but you. I wanted you to think I was some stud. I needed you to know that I'd made something of myself. It didn't occur to me that it would be another two years before we saw each other again.
By then, Billy had retired. I was running the business, designing and creating custom furniture from reclaimed wood, glass, and metal. One month, I built a replica of an antique spool bed. You have no idea how difficult that was. Belle, I had made it. I had more orders than I could fill. Even my parents' friends wanted original pieces from me.
I thought I had everything I needed. A simple life, hidden away in that shithole cabin, working in the woodshop, surfing whenever I got the chance. Little did I know that a mischievous sprite was about to re-enter my life and change everything.
I remember that weekend as if it was yesterday. I saw you the first night, dancing in the moonlight in a sheer, long white dress. Your beautiful hair blew in the wind. It was the first time I'd seen you in twenty-five years when I felt like I saw you, the real Belle. Your outside matched your inside.
My God, you were irresistible. I wanted you in my life, to feel your delight, your freedom. I had to touch you. When I took you in my arms and twirled you around, I heard you giggle. You were the personification of joy, and I desperately wanted to be within your orbit. Your happiness, your freedom, nourished my soul.
After three days together, I was madly in love. Yes, we were in love. Not a day has gone by since that night that I haven’t woken with you in my thoughts.
You came into my life and expanded my world. You opened my eyes to things I didn't realize I had missed. You lived your life without fear. You didn't give a shit what others thought. Within a week, you moved in with me and our parents didn’t bat an eye. They always knew.
My rustic cabin turned into a fairy-tale cottage (yes, despite the roach and rat problem). I know what you’re thinking. If I made furniture, why did we sleep on mattresses on the floor? You were a good sport about our living conditions. Freezing in the winter, hot as hell in summer. Unreliable plumbing and electricity.
You never complained. Next thing I knew, I had a home. Suddenly our parents were visiting, we had fabulous dinner parties, and we surrounded ourselves with music. Your gardens? My pixie was a farmer, happy with her hands in the dirt. It was a blissful existence. The Jack and Belle bubble of love.
Have you figured out the effect you have on others? You make people feel unique and beautiful like they can do anything, be anything. You have this gift, and you don't even realize it. It comes as naturally to you as breathing. It's why you're so successful. You had that effect on me. I began to dream again. To expand my vision of what was possible.
I applied to the Art Institute because of you. No, listen. As difficult as it was, I will be forever grateful to you. You gave me the support, the courage, and the strength to rethink what I was capable of accomplishing. Without you, I may have ended up an old curmudgeon like Billy, living on the marsh alone doing the bare minimum, never realizing the full potential of my dreams.
When I was accepted, I struggled with my decision. I almost turned it down. I didn’t want to be away from you. Ultimately, I couldn’t walk away from such an opportunity. I had a plan. We could survive the distance and the time apart as long as we stayed in contact and visited each other. We would both grow, but not grow apart.
Belle, I know we’ve talked about this and I’ve apologized, but I truly am sorry. You deserved more than I gave you. I was selfish. For five years, you put me first. I took without giving. You allowed me to be my best person. What did I do for you? I lied and hid things from you. I left. I made a declaration without including you and then I blamed it on you. I called you a child. I told you that you needed to grow up. I never should have blamed you or mocked you. I was a cold, selfish bastard trying to alleviate my guilt. I was an asshole. To learn that you were alone in your grief while I was living life on my own? It shames me.
I need another drink. Can I get you anything? Okay, hang on. I’ll bring ice and the bottle.
I'll skip forward. I know what you want to hear. Time for me to get down to it. You've read the letters from the first year. Jesus, they were all about me, me, me. How much I loved Chicago, school, exploring, and living my new life. If you'd received them, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd been furious with me. I didn't return for the holidays. I didn't invite you to explore with me. I never asked about you or your life.
I spent that first summer studying in Spain. You would have loved it. I wanted you with me, but a part of me was glad I was alone. I didn't have to worry about you. I had no responsibilities other than my selfish pursuits.
I promise I will take you there one day, and to Italy, where I spent the next two summers. Italy was a dream. I'd move there in a heartbeat.
The summer before my fourth year, I returned and spent the summer in northern Italy, in Florence. That’s when I met her. Charlie’s mother. How much do you want to know? Everything? Are you sure?
Her name is Sofia. She lived in Florence. As far as I know, she still lives there.
It had been three years since I'd heard from you. I hadn't given up hope, but I feared that we were over. I was lonely.
Sofia was the first woman I met who piqued my interest. She was in the same program as I. We studied together and we traveled together. Eventually, we gave in to our attraction.
I can see the question in your eyes. Did I love her? How do I answer that question? I've never loved another woman the way I love you. You and Charlie are the loves of my life.
I tried to love Sofia. She offered comfort at a time when I was lonely and hurting. I craved you. I needed to fill the hole in my heart.
She was beautiful, vibrant, elegant, smart, and talented. I tried, but she knew something was missing. I could not fully engage my heart. I held a part of myself back. I couldn't help but compare her to you. It was unfair to her and to you.
We never discussed it. I never told her about you and she didn’t ask. I suspected she knew about you. I had a feeling she’d snoop through my things to unravel the mystery of Jack. I think she found unfinished letters I wrote to you. Perhaps if I'd been honest, we could have had a genuine relationship. One without the ghost of you regularly between us.
She overcompensated, coming up with new ways to capture my attention. To watch a woman twist herself in knots to be whom she thought I wanted? I felt like a piece of shit.
I never told you or my parents about her. If you read the letters from that time, not once did I mention Sofia. I am a liar.
I was in a relationship with a woman who loved me, and I loved a woman who had become a ghost that haunted my days and nights. I dreamed about you every night. So what did I do? Dumbass that I am, I asked her to come to Chicago as a transfer student. We lived together; we worked together. We were partners. It was doomed to fail. I ended up failing two women.
I took everything Sofia had to give. She encouraged me, supported me. I really am a selfish bastard. She had money, but I paid for everything and she took it. I was in my fourth year of school by then. We both were. Her student visa would expire at the end of the school year. She started talking about
marriage. If we married, she could stay in the United States or, if she had her way, I could return to Italy with her.
Over Christmas break, rather than bring her here to meet my parents, we visited her family in Florence. She announced to her entire family over a Christmas feast that we planned to marry. I was shocked, embarrassed, and furious. We never agreed to that. The only woman I would ever marry was you.
We had our first real fight. I was honest and I was cruel. I finally admitted the truth to both of us. I did not want to marry her. I admitted that I loved another woman, a woman I left behind, but who still held my heart. I cried, apologized, and wallowed in my self-pity.
Remember how angry you were when I was packing to leave? Throwing dishes and screaming at me? Well, I hate to tell you this, but you have nothing on an angry Italian woman. After screaming at me in Italian, her family packed my things and kicked me out. How dare I hurt their precious Sofia?
Guilty, scared, but relieved, I tucked my tail between my legs and returned to Chicago. I hid in my apartment for a week before school began, haunted by two angry, disappointed women.
Bella, I yearned for you. I realized what a huge mistake I'd made. I began searching for you. I confronted my parents. I reached out to your parents. No amount of begging or pleading worked. Like Sofia's family, they were a united front protecting you from me.
Google is a useful device for stalkers. I found you, and I learned about Bella Boutique. You can’t imagine how happy I was for you. You named it Bella Boutique. The name I called you. I knew I was still in your heart. I convinced myself that leaving had been the best thing for both of us. If you’d found the courage to open a new business, you couldn’t be hurting.
Like the stalker I’d become, I called the store several times. Each time you answered, I hung up. What could I say?
The day before the final semester started, Sofia returned and moved back in as if nothing had happened. I came home and she was there. She stayed in the second bedroom, and we became roommates. I had no idea what to do. I should have told her to leave, but I didn't. I knew I'd hurt her. I deserved her anger.
Then she announced that she was pregnant. She was about six weeks' along. Very early. It must have happened around the beginning of December, before Italy and the big fight. I did not want a child with her. The idea was ludicrous. Then she issued the ultimatum. She would not disgrace her family as an unwed mother. “Marry me, or I will abort this thing.” This “thing?”
Sofia didn’t want a baby. I didn’t want a baby with her. I could have agreed to the abortion, yet something told me to fight for him. I had been feeling guilty for the way I treated her. I knew I was unfair. I didn’t feel remorseful enough to marry her, though. When she used her pregnancy as leverage, I saw her for who she was and I was disgusted.
I fought for him. No one needed to know. If Sofia stayed in the U.S. long enough for the baby to be born here, I would take care of everything. I would take him. I begged her, “Please, please do not terminate the pregnancy.” Begrudgingly, she finally agreed.
We were supposed to graduate that spring. She delayed her graduation date and enrolled in the summer semester to extend her student visa. The baby was due in late July/early August. He would be born in the United States, and she would return to Italy, her family none the wiser.
The next seven months were torture. I have never seen a more miserable woman. She hated being pregnant. Not once did I witness a maternal impulse. She complained that she was an incubator. The fetus (she never referred to it as a baby) was a parasite, draining her energy, sucking the life out of her. When he began to kick and move, she was disgusted.
If she hated being pregnant, she hated me even more. She spent most of her time in her room unless she wanted something. I think she stayed in the apartment to make my life miserable, to punish me. Also because it was a free ride. Even in the first year together, she never contributed anything. Never paid any rent, bought groceries, or handled utilities. For two years, she mooched off me. I was a sucker. She played me. She had plenty of money.
My baby was worth it. I honored her every demand. I rubbed her feet, fed her, and tended to her every whim. Of course, nothing I did was good enough. We both wanted it to end, to move on with our lives.
When I rubbed expensive maternity lotions on her belly and felt him kick and move, joy filled my heart. I ignored her bitching and sang to him, talked to him. I needed him to know I loved him, despite the negative energy she put out in waves. Sofia and I had stopped talking to each other, or even looking at each other. At that point, she was nothing but an incubator.
Charlie was born early. July 10th. One of the happiest days of my life. She had a relatively pain-free, easy delivery, but she cried and cursed the whole time. When the nurses tried to lay him on her, skin to skin, she shocked us all by screaming and shoving him away. It was aggressive, violent, and scary. The nurse gasped and I reached for him before he fell. I held him first, against my bare chest. When he opened his eyes for the first time, I was the one he found. He recognized my voice. God, I loved that kid. I also knew that I could never leave him alone with her.
Oh, God, no. Annabelle, it's not the same thing. I don't blame you or judge you for how you reacted. Bella, please don't cry. You loved our baby. You were grieving. You were in pain, alone and scared. You told me that you loved our baby from the moment you found out you were pregnant.
Shh. Come here, love. Please let me hold you.
I had graduated by then but delayed finding a job. I wanted to come home; but Charlie was so little, I couldn't risk the travel. I needed to stay to care for him.
Sofia never held him or touched him. I didn’t expect her to nurse him, but I asked her to pump for at least three weeks. She refused. I fed him, changed his diapers, calmed him, and rocked him to sleep.
During her follow-up visit, I talked to her doctor. I asked, “How can she not feel anything for a child she carried inside her for nine months?” I still hoped that she would bond with him. I told her doctor I was concerned she was suffering from post-partum depression. She questioned Sofia, even had a psychiatrist evaluate her.
Her doctor told me that she didn’t appear depressed, but that she felt nothing for Charlie. The psychiatrist speculated she suffered from some form of psychosis. They were both alarmed and warned me never to leave him alone with her. I assured her I would not take that risk. I reminded myself that her behavior post-partum was no different from when she was pregnant. She simply did not feel a connection to him.
Do you have any idea how many times I have wished Charlie was our baby? I can’t wait for you to meet him. I want us to be a family. I’m sorry. I’m rushing you. I know this is a lot to process.
I had one of those sling things I wore around my neck. You don’t see many men wearing them, but he was too small for the pouch I could strap to my chest. I carried him around with me all the time, even at home. Did you know women love men with babies?
When he was about three weeks old, I took him out for a walk in the park. Mothers told me I shouldn’t take him out until he was six weeks’ old, but I had to get out of that apartment. It was toxic. We weren't out that long, but when we returned, Sofia was gone. She must have been planning it, because she disappeared. I never heard from her again.
I have sent pictures of Charlie to her over the past year and a half. Someone has returned every letter.
When she left, it finally dawned on me that I was a single father with no clue what to do. A prestigious design firm in Chicago offered me a position that I couldn't turn down. I’d worked too hard to fulfill my dream. I’d sacrificed too much. They were one of the best, and I needed the experience. I was supposed to start in September. I couldn't go to work with a baby strapped to my chest. I broke down and called my parents. Up to then, I hadn't told them anything. I may have surprised them.
My mother swooped in and took over everything. My father fell in love with Charlie. You should have seen him. He held Charlie as often
as I did. We loved that baby while my mother went shopping. She designed the nursery, decorated, bought enough clothes and diapers for a year, and taught me how to care for a baby. When she wasn't speeding around making plans, she'd grab him away from us and sit in the nursery playing soft music. He never knew his mother, but he knew the love of the three of us.
My mother arranged for a nanny and told me it was time to get my shit together and build a career. At that point, I didn’t know if I’d ever return to Charleston. I’d accomplished my dream; I was a working designer, creating a line of furniture for an international design firm. I was desperate to be with you, but I thought I’d lost you.
Leaving him every day was torture. My parents stayed another two weeks to help with the transition. I suspect my mother also watched the nanny like a hawk.
During the past year, my parents visited once a month. It was excessive. Charlie and I were a team, and we were in a groove. Granted, he is their only grandchild so I can understand why they wanted to see him as often as possible. They also gave me support, and breaks.
I told my mother very little. My father handled the legal matters, so he knows everything. We petitioned the court to terminate Sofia's parental rights based on abandonment and, supported by affidavits from the nurse in the hospital and her obstetrician. We sent her certified mail with all of the documents. She never responded. The court granted me sole custody. It was as if she never existed. I don’t even have any pictures of her to show him. How will I tell him?
After a year on my own, I realized we needed to be with family. I needed to find you. I’d been stalking you from afar long enough. I was lonely. I'd always planned to come back to you. I may have had a fabulous job with a prestigious design firm, but I knew what my priorities were.