“Oh, I know. Your father didn’t hesitate to tell me what he thought of Cal,” I say with a sigh.
“Is he—was he…?”
“The person your parents describe isn’t who Cal was to me,” I tell him, busy looking at my hands. “Don’t get me wrong. He could be arrogant, mean, and snide… a lot. But that isn’t all there was to him. He’s so much more than that. He could be kind… caring… protective.”
I smile as I reminisce on the earlier part of our relationship, how infatuated I was with him, like I was in high school with a crush on a teacher. He had me wrapped around his finger, for God’s sake. I laugh at the ridiculousness of it.
“He’s extremely intelligent, confident, and persuasive; he could talk anyone into doing what he wanted. He’s handsome, incredibly sexy…” I say with a laugh before I realize what I just said… oh God, I did not just say that out loud!
I glance over and see that his cheeks are bright red. He’s blushing! I realize that in my entire life, I’ve never seen him blush. I’m staring; staring isn’t good, not good at all… Say something!
Thankfully, his phone rings and breaks this embarrassing silence. He takes it out and looks at it. “Excuse me.” I nod, and he walks a few feet away and answers it. “Hello? Yeah, I know, something came up.” I can tell by his tone of voice it’s her. “I’m on my way right now… I’ll see you then… I love you too.”
I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Well, more than a twinge—a lot more. More like someone just kicked me in the stomach and is standing on my chest. The man I love—well, this man who resembles the man I love—in the exact same voice, is professing his love to another woman. Knowing it’s her he holds, her lips he kisses… oh God, I have to stop thinking like this.
“About the other day… I-I’m not usually like that.” I rub the back of my neck.
“No, it’s forgotten,” he says sincerely.
“Does she know about all of this?” I ask, but my focus is on the ceiling fan.
“About some things,” he says, letting out a deep sigh.
I nod. I don’t know what kind of answer that is, but I decide not to push any further.
“I-I have to—” he begins to explain.
I smile weakly, letting him know it isn’t needed. I walk with him to the door.
“My mom says you’re from Chicago. How long are you going to stay here?” he asks hesitantly.
“Well, I’m from Saginaw, but I live in Chicago,” I correct him as we walk the small distance to the door. I scratch my head and realize I only have enough money with me to pay for another day at the Inn, and I left my credit cards. “I have to get back to Caylen, most likely tomorrow morning.”
“Oh.” He frowns slightly, as if he thought I would be staying longer.
“I have some things to take care of back home. It’ll take me a couple days, but I can come back, and… let you see her. We can start to work something out,” I say, almost incoherently due this unwanted situation we are in.
“That would be good. I’d like that since we have a lot to work out,” he says.
I’m not sure if he’s joking or not.
“Um, let me give you my cell phone number,” he says.
I turn to get my phone and hand it to him. After a few seconds, he puts it in. He hands me his, and I do the same.
“You have my home number too,” he says after I’m done.
We exchange phones awkwardly, almost as if we’re trying to avoid touching one another. He opens the door and steps outside. It’s an awkward moment, and we both laugh at our obvious discomfort.
“I just realized we never got a chance to really… uh…” I look at him, confused, as he extends his hand.
“I’m Chris,” he says with a soft smile.
I let out a small laugh, realizing we never really did get a chance to properly introduce ourselves. I take his hand. “I’m Lauren.”
Chapter 17
March 10th, 2013
It’s funny how one day can change the whole course of your life. Not even a day really—just a few seconds. The moment you find out you’re having a child or the day you receive a bad medical report. Those life-altering moments when you know your life will never again be how it was before those few seconds happened.
I’ve walked through the door to the penthouse over a thousand times, each time secretly hoping he’d be there, sitting on the couch, his eyes giving away so much and so little. And then time would freeze, and in that moment, it wouldn’t matter where he’d been, or who he’d been with—just that he was home and that he loved me and couldn’t stay away. I hoped, of course, that there would be a reasonable explanation, circumstances beyond his control that kept him from me, from us, our family.
Each scenario I imagined played out differently and vaguely. Deep down, I never cared what the explanation was, just that he was home and that my family would be complete again. That longing feeling of missing him so much that I felt a part of me was missing, gone. That part of me would be returned in pieces, but not quite broken.
I think back to the days in the house alone, when I returned after finding out I was pregnant. Even then I was trying to run away from the memory of him, hating him with every fiber of my being. Yet each day, my stomach grew larger as a part of him grew inside of me. Love and hate crashed together in a never-ending battle that I fought within myself. I wanted to erase his existence from my mind, but each and every day, I walked through the door, returning home from some mundane task, and still secretly hoped he’d be there.
I know how ridiculous an idea it was to try and keep my hope a secret—even from myself. The thought of wanting a man back who had walked out on his pregnant wife was too pathetic for my own subconscious to comprehend. Well, he didn’t know about the pregnancy, but still… I held on to some quixotic hope. It was unwarranted, almost incomprehensible. But I did; I still had hope for Cal and me.
Now there is no hope. It’s the first time that I know for a fact he won’t be there. That the man I’ve loved and loathed all of these years is a mere figment of the imagination of a man named Chris… or not—my mind is too exhausted to cope with the logistics of this entire situation.
On my drive back from Madison, I imagined this all going differently. After all of my convincing words that this is an opportunity for me to start anew and leave the past where it is, making myself see this as a freeing experience, I pictured myself walking through the door, taking a deep breath, and a weight being lifted. All of the days which went before, when I was left not knowing if he was alive or not, if he was hurt, who was he with, if he thought about me, if he knew about Caylen… the burden of all that was gone—liberated from me.
But now, as I actually walk through this door, the feeling is overwhelming, almost as overwhelming as the day he left. I thought I had convinced myself on the long drive back home that I could exorcise him from my life, from my mind, and from my thoughts. I convinced myself that I could deal with this and that the reality I have now has given me the closure I need to move on. But walking through this door now, in real time, I feel as if I’ve been punched in the chest, the wind gone from my body, and I can’t breathe.