“You’re not,” he said. “Fuck, love, you have always been the prettiest girl… and now the most beautiful woman. And now the mother of-”
“How can you say that to me? I read that letter, Josh. That letter did things to me I never thought possible. I thought to myself that if I could find someone to love me the way the person who wrote that letter loved Delilah…”
I shook my head.
“Can I finish what I’m saying here?” Josh asked.
“You know what? No. I didn't know what to expect tonight. I’m pregnant. With your baby. This is our life now.”
“And I want this life,” Josh said.
“Where is the letter now?”
“I destroyed it. Like I should have done when I wrote it. I didn’t even want to write that fucking thing. I was supposed to write it and destroy it. To get rid of everything. But it didn't work. Because the second I saw you…” Josh put his head back. “I wrote another letter.”
“To Delilah?”
“Yes,” Josh said. “Because when I came back, and you were gone-”
“You know what? This isn’t my business. You should give her that letter. I’m serious, Josh. You and her should not go through life never knowing what could be.”
“That’s what you want?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. I want you to be happy, Josh. And if that’s with her, then fine. Go give her the letter you wrote.”
Josh stepped back. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”
My lips quivered.
That was the moment he was supposed to grab me again. My waist. My arms. My face. That was the moment he was supposed to tell me he loved me and nobody else. I was pushing at him out of jealousy and now he was… leaving.
“Josh,” I said as I slowly walked after him.
“I’ll take care of everything, Amelia,” he said. He looked me in the eyes again. “And I promise you, I won’t be like my father. You never have to worry about that.”
Josh shut the door behind him.
I touched my stomach and wanted to feel relief, knowing I wasn’t going to be alone in all of this.
But it wasn’t enough.
I wanted more.
I wanted Josh.
I needed Josh.
I ran back to the kitchen sink.
I felt like I was choking on my broken heart.
I sat on my bed, my legs crisscrossed with a notebook in front of me. I was writing a letter of my own. Except I was writing my letter to everyone. My memories felt raw and exposed. They refused to back away, so I sort of just stood in them for a while.
I thought about my father’s death. Knowing it was all eventual. So, getting the call that he was gone didn’t hurt me as much as it maybe should have. I thought about my mother, fleeing everything she knew in life, living a quiet and secluded life across the country. Seeing the positive pregnancy test was maybe a chance to talk to her again and bring her back into my life. But to me, I was nothing but a reminder of what life had been like for her. All the times she fought with my father, yelling for me - fly, baby, fly - wanting to keep me safe.
One thing I knew for sure was that this baby was not going to be born into a twisted world. This baby was not going to come home from the hospital to an apartment full of cat pictures. Or have to endure Grace’s speeches on life. This baby would not live through what I lived through. I would find a way to be everything this baby needed and then some. And if Josh was telling the truth that he wouldn’t do what his father did, then this baby would have the love from two people who knew what not being loved felt like.
Except I loved Josh.
I still loved him.
I couldn’t imagine not loving him.
It was impossible to not think about the way he had touched me. Kissed me. Taken me to his bed. The way our bodies felt together. Not just physically either.
And the entire time…
A soft knock on my door broke up the painful thought.
I wiped the corners of my eyes and turned my head as Grace opened the door.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Please…”
“Not sure what you want me to do. But Josh is here.”
“What?”
“He’s at the door looking for you.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Want me to tell him you’re sleeping or something?”
“No,” I said. I climbed out of the bed. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you sure? Your body can only take so much, Amelia. And now you need to think about the baby. All the time.”
“Grace,” I said. “Please.”
She opened the door all the way and disappeared.
I shuffled through the apartment in oversized black pajama bottoms and an oversized gray hoodie. I was the definition of a walking mess and I didn't give a damn about it.
Josh stood at the front door, hands in the pockets of an old and dirty black leather jacket. I hated that no matter what he did, said, or wore, he was gorgeous. Even hurting me, he made it so I wanted more. Which was wrong. I was mad at myself for that.
“What do you want?” I asked him.
“To do what you said to do, love,” he said in a soft voice.
“And now you came back here to do what? Rub it in my face? I told you I'm sorry I asked anything. I should have known better. You’ll never understand-”
Josh stepped toward me and gently touched my cheek. His thumb grazed my bottom lip. My eyes filled with tears.
With his left hand, he pulled something out of his pocket. He stepped back and took my hand and placed a piece of paper into it.
“There,” he said. “It’s done.”
“What’s done?” I asked.
Josh looked into my eyes maybe deeper than he’d ever done before. “I just gave the letter to Delilah.”
Chapter 44
All At Once
THEN
(Amelia)
“I have one card left,” Mom said. “Do I have to call out something.”
“Well, I think you can call out Crazy Eights,” I said. “I don’t care.”
Mom smiled.
I put down a red four of hearts.
“Shit,” she said.
She had to pick up from the pile and the game continued. It felt like the longest card game of my life, but in a way, I didn’t want it to end.
The kitchen table smelled horrible. The dishes overflowed in the sink. The fridge was half empty other than beer and days old milk. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but I wasn’t going to bring that up.
This was actually a calm moment in life.
Just Mom and I hanging out and playing cards.
“Have you been writing lately?” she asked.
“Not as much as I should be.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t know.”
“Writer’s block?”
“I guess you could call it that,” I said. “Do you really think I could become a famous writer?”
“Why not?” Mom asked. “There's no set path in anyone’s life, Amelia. Doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor or anything like that. I think you're a great writer.”