“But when you look at me, it’s like you know everything about me,” I say. She lets out a light breath. My nervous energy seems to be gone. I look away from her and at my hands. Hands that have done things—I have enough trouble with one life. How am I supposed to deal with one I don’t know anything about? One that isn’t really mine?
“When your parents told me about you,” her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced—the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to listen to,” her hazel eyes glaze over, tears covering them. I was hurt and confused. I didn’t even believe them. I didn’t want to believe them. I’m still hurt. I’m still confused. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to…” she trails off, her voice breaking. She looks down at her feet and continues, “To you,” she pauses, and I feel like my heart is on the verge of stopping.
“I can’t compromise with someone I don’t know, either,” she shrugs and smiles, even though tears are falling from her eyes. Then she looks up at me, and the smile leaves her face.
“When you look at me, it’s as if I’m a burden, a problem, and you have no idea how much that hurts, “she says, her voice shaky, and I feel like the biggest ass in the world. I’ve never wanted more in my life to be able to say something to make all of this better, but I know whatever I say will probably make things worse.
“I don’t blame you for it,” she adds quickly. She should. “I can’t, but you have to understand that you have Cal’s…” she drifts off and chuckles through her tears. “You have his smile, his voice, his eyes. When I look at you, I can’t help but see him. And it hurts knowing that you weren’t the one who stole my heart when you first smiled at me, the one who took me bungee jumping on our first date. That you weren’t the one who told me I’m the only woman you have ever loved. But you…you’re not him, and you’re in love with someone else.” It’s the first time I’ve heard someone speak about this guy without using jerk, asshole, or problem in the same sentence. For the first time, it hits me that she really experienced things with him; they had a life together.
“So, I’m sort of having a hard time with this,” she continues, chuckling as she wipes away the tears on her cheek. “Even knowing all of it, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past it,” she explains. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with this, or if I even can, but I’m willing to try, because of that little girl in the picture. I’d do anything for her, including giving up the only person I’ve ever been in love with.”
That’s when I realize: she’s somehow come to terms with this, and I feel like a load of bricks have been removed from my brain.
But then she starts to cry. I can tell she’s trying to be strong but it’s like whoever just took the bricks off my brain just fastened them to her heart. “I-I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”
She walks towards me and takes a deep breath. She looks at me almost and I can tell she’s trying to see me for a new person. Tears are still pouring from her eyes. I search my pockets and find a napkin, and offer it to her. She takes it and wipes her eyes.
“I know that this isn’t your fault. And I know that you want to believe none of this is your problem, but it is, and it’s mine too...but it’s not Caylen’s. I’m willing to accept that you’re not Cal, that you aren’t my husband. I can learn to do that. But I can’t relieve you of being Caylen’s father. You’re part of her.” Her voice is shaky but stern, and the look in her eyes lets me know she means business. “That’s all I’m really sure about. That’s all that I can think of to say to you,” she says with a sigh, as she takes a seat on the sofa.
Wow, what is with this girl? She seems fragile, yet so undeniably strong. How the hell did a guy like him make a girl like this fall in love with him? I walk over to the sofa and sit down in the same spot I was in before, the requisite inches between us. I look over at her and remember Cal’s message.
“My parents say that he’s—they describe him like—” I’m trying to think of a way to describe him without offending her, but I’m coming up blank
“Oh I know, your father didn’t hesitate to tell me what he thought of Cal,” she replies.
Good old Dad. “Is he—was he…?” I ask hesitantly. I’ve never hated anyone before, but I can imagine this is what I feel toward him for what he’s done to my life, my relationships. His disregard for the beliefs and values my family taught me to hold dear makes my skin crawl. That monster—he’s inside of me.
“The person your parents describe isn’t who Cal was to me. Don’t get me wrong, he could be arrogant, mean, and snide, a lot,” she sighs. Arrogant, mean, and snide; that's my first impression of him.
“He’s so much more than that,” she continues. “He could be kind, caring, and protective,” she adds, and I feel my eyebrow rise. I don’t see how a guy who ruined my life could be kind, caring, or protective, but I try not to let my expression show my disbelief.
“He’s extremely intelligent, confident, and persuasive. He could talk anyone into doing what he wanted. He was handsome, and incredibly sexy.” I try to hide the smile growing on my face. I know she’s technically not referring to me, but well, physically we’re the same.
Chapter 24
The meeting with Lauren went better than I expected. I don’t know what I expected, really. But it could have gone worse, way worse. It’s weird thinking about how a part of me had this whole life with another person. That’s something I haven’t been able to grasp.
At least she seems nice. I wasn’t there long, but it went better than our first meeting. Then again, it couldn’t have gone any worse than that. I’ve gained a lot respect for her. She was able to hold it together, aside from the crying, but I can’t blame her for that. I can’t imagine being in her place. My own place is screwed up enough. I feel lighter, though. Like the heaviness that I carried is gone. I know things are far from fixed, but knowing that Lauren isn’t a screaming psycho, and she recognizes me, or at least is trying to recognize me for who I am, helps a lot.
My first instinct was to call Jenna and tell her that this isn’t going to be some awkward love triangle, and that Lauren and I are more concerned with being parents to this little girl. But I know she’s still fuming, and I can’t blame her.
I pass most of the day silently doing chores around the farm with my dad. He hasn’t said much, and I don’t have much to say to him, either. My mom cooked dinner: homemade macaroni, fried chicken, and green beans. I grabbed a plate, and headed to my room. It’s the first time I can remember since I’ve been home that we haven’t eaten dinner together.
I’m not mad at them. Well, I’m trying not to be. But to sit down and act like everything is fine, and nothing has changed, would be a sham. The next time we have dinner together, I want to make sure I’m genuine. We’re all genuine, and not putting up facades. I’ve had enough of that. Today is a day I wish I was called in for work, but there’re no classes to teach on a Sunday. After watching an old football game and showering, I ended up where I am now, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. I never minded being alone before all this, just with my own thoughts.