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I close my eyes for a moment and then hurriedly grab the phone. I swallow hard as my fingers fly over the keys.
We should talk soon.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
“Pull off the bandage, Cherry,” I say aloud. “You can’t leave him in the dark. Best to get it over with.”
The phone vibrates just a moment later.
Nate O.: Yes, please. Anytime. I can call you right now if you want. I’m so, so glad you replied.
I should have realized he’d reply immediately. Though pulling off the bandage fast is always my preferred method for a healing cut, I’m not sure if I’m ready to tell him about the baby right this second.
“Maybe that’s the wrong approach. We have a lot of other things to talk about.”
I steel myself again and type out another message.
Give me about fifteen minutes, then call.
Nate O: Gladly, though it may be the longest 15 min of my life
For the next fifteen minutes, all I do is stare at the phone and wait for it to ring. I’d wanted to get my thoughts together, but suddenly, the time is up. The phone vibrates, and a picture of Nate and me at the Maple Syrup Festival appears on the screen. I reach out and tentatively tap the answer icon.
“Hello.” I barely get the word out.
“Hello, Cherry.” After a brief pause, Nate continues. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”
I have to stop myself from automatically echoing the sentiment.
“There’s so much I want to say to you,” he says, “but I want to give you a chance to speak first. I know I…I put you through a lot, and…well, you deserve to be heard first.”
“I appreciate that,” I reply. Just hearing his voice is making my eyes tear up, but I don’t know what to say. As the silence deepens, Nate speaks up again.
“Would you prefer that I go first?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you read my texts? I’ve been getting help—professional help.”
“I read them.”
“It’s been hard, but I think I’ve made a lot of progress. I know I can never apologize to you enough, but I hope you’ll give me the opportunity.”
“You hurt me,” I blurt out.
“I know I did. If I could take it all back, I would. I wasn’t sleeping at all. I didn’t even realize it, but I hadn’t had a decent night of sleep since…well, since Pops died.”
“But you didn’t realize he was dead, did you?”
“No.” I hear him let out a long breath. “I couldn’t let myself believe it, and I guess the circumstances were just right, and I had a bit of a…a breakdown.”
“A bit of a breakdown?”
“Well, all right, I had a major breakdown. It’s hard for me to acknowledge, even now, but that’s what it was. I like to focus on the physical—the fact that the lack of sleep was causing it—but that doesn’t change much.”
“Will you tell me more about your father?” I ask.
“He’s been the topic of a lot of my therapy. What do you want to know?”
