Desperately, I texted him to figure out what happened. I think I must’ve texted him every single day after the breakup asking for an explanation. The whole thing caught me so off guard that I wanted him to break it down for me and help me understand.
At Emely’s insistence, and under her supervision, I started messaging him less and less. But still, every time my phone pinged with a notification, my heart would soar at the thought that it could be him. That he would come back to me, apologize and tell me he was in the wrong for breaking my heart.
Every notification I got for months made me hope that my misery would end and the two of us would be back together. I hoped that he’d just gotten cold feet at the thought of the goals we had set together.
As the days passed though, I realized that the message or call was never going to come. It didn’t stop me from hoping every single day. Still, he never picked up. Never responded to a message. Never even bothered reading them. To stop myself from freaking out every time I got a notification, I changed my number. I did it partly because I was pissed at him. I gave him a long time to call and he didn’t, so changing my number would be my way of telling him I wasn’t going to wait on him any longer. The real reason for changing my number was that part of me wanted to believe that at some point in those six years he realized he was wrong and called me. I think it would’ve hurt more to have kept the same number and for him to never have called. This way, I could convince myself that he was calling me every day hoping my phone would be connected again. That he would be the one waiting by the phone for the day it would ring and my name would pop up on his screen once again.
Now I know that he wasn’t.
While I was mourning our dreams, he was building his family. Raising his daughter. Doing God-knows what else.
I sit on my bed with my phone in my hands and the past on my mind. It isn’t until I get a message from Emely that I realize how long I was lost in my thoughts. I need to start getting ready for work.
Emely: Got the weekend off! I’m coming your way soon.
Emely: Wow. No response.
Emely: You didn’t even read the message.
Emely: You probably fell asleep, didn’t you?
Emely: Gosh you’re so old.
Emely: I feel like this is making me look desperate, so I’ll let you go for tonight. Send me signs of life in the morning.
Emely: Love ya!
I smile at the chain of messages my best friend’s left me. The smile leaves my face the moment I realize I’m going to have to tell her everything. I didn’t want to talk about it last night because I wanted to forget. But there’s no way I can forget all of this with him being so close. With his daughter being one of the kids I work with.
Maybe he’ll pull her out of school now that he knows I’m teaching there… maybe his girlfriend, wife, whatever, will not want her daughter at the same school as Christian’s ex-girlfriend.
Then again, maybe she doesn’t care. I clearly wasn’t as important to him as I thought, so maybe he never bothered to mention me.
Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I walk over to the shower and start getting ready for work. I have a job to do. I’m a big girl and I promised myself I would never let a guy come into my life and tear it to shreds. Not again. Not like before.
I thought about calling Emely on my way to work like I did yesterday, but I opt against it. Her last message came in at 2 am and she’s probably still asleep. That’s the reason I tell myself, but the reality is, I’m a coward and don’t want to break down again. I know that if I call her and tell her what happened, I won’t be able to stop myself from falling apart all over again and I refuse to do that. Instead, I choose to run through my daily routine like nothing’s happened. Like yesterday didn’t come bearing devastating news.
Every time Hannah walks into my office, she gives me a questioning glance. She lingers at the door. She looks back twice every time she’s about to leave the room. I can tell she’s worried. She doesn’t know me, but she knows I’m barely holding myself together. I hope she’s just really good at diving deep into people’s emotions and not that my misery is written on my face. I can tell she doesn’t know what to do with me. Without even knowing me, I know she cares enough to want to make sure I’m okay, but she isn’t going to push me for answers.
To let her know I won’t fall apart, I smile at her every time she comes in and out of my office. I meet her questioning looks with reassuring nods. I try to show her that I’m okay, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Still, I’m hoping that the more I smile in her direction the more she’ll start to buy my act… the more I start to feel like I’m actually going to be okay.
Finishing some of the paperwork on my desk, I look at the clock and realize it’s already noon. I’m making great headway, which is a product of not wanting to have the space in my mind to think about him. At this rate, I’m going to be done today with all the paperwork I was hoping to get done next week.
A slight knock at the door grabs my attention. I bet Hannah’s checking on me again… “Come in,” I instruct. Hannah pops her head in.
“You have someone here to see you,” she tells me.
I swear I feel my heart stop beating. “Who?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“It’s me,” Ari’s little head pokes in through the door as well.
Hannah opens it the rest of the way and Ari lets herself in. “Hi,” she starts walking herself in and plopping down on the seat she occupied yesterday. I take her in and I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. Before Christian walked in. She looks just like him. Carbon copy. Her eyes are his eyes. And her confidence as she walks reminds me of him. No wonder I was immediately taken by her. No wonder I felt she reminded me of someone I knew.
I clear my throat when I realize I’ve not responded. “Hi Ari. How are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?” she asks. She doesn’t crack a smile, just sits on the other side of the desk like this is a business meeting. I can’t help but feel like I was the one called to the principal’s office, like I’m the one in trouble here.
I want to round the desk and sit next to her, but my feet are glued to the ground. I can’t move. I can’t get closer to her because my heart can’t take it.
She could’ve been my kid. Our kid.
If only.
“You haven’t gotten in any more fights, have you?” I ask, pushing away my emotions and doing my job.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Sure as ever, Ari crosses her arms in front of herself. “I’m wondering if you handled it,” she says. I wrack my brain, but for the life of me I can’t remember what I’m supposed to handle.
“Handled what?” I ask.
“You said you’d handle the pushing situation. I’m just wondering if you talked to him already.”
Oh yes! The other kid. I definitely did not talk to him yet. I can’t even remember what his name was right now. So many other things have been taking over all the space in my mind. Well, I guess not many things, just one. Her father. “I haven’t yet. But I will,” I tell her.