The temperature dropped with the sun and goosebumps prickle my skin. I climb to my feet, something I couldn't have done not too long ago. A fire is burning in the yard next door. Voices filter in from the open window, their words interrupted by the sound of kids' laughter.
I know this is where I belong. I can feel it in my bones.
But what does it mean to belong? Is this where I self-destruct? Is this where I become the old man yelling at neighborhood kids to get off my lawn?
Or is this where I finally open my eyes and embrace the man I am beneath the darkness?
Unfortunately for the kids next door, I don't think it's going to be the latter.
Chapter forty-four
Jade
From my passenger seat, the strip of photos stares at me. They've come a long way in eight years.
Ten weeks.
Much further along than I thought. I'd assumed it happened after I had strep because of the antibiotics. But my OB said that's mostly a myth, and only certain medications will alter the effectiveness of birth control pills.
But now that I know, I can pinpoint where I screwed up.
I haven't messed up taking the pill since I had Coop.
Until the week before Baltimore, when I missed two days because I forgot to pick up my script. The script that's been on automatic refills forever. The script I've never not picked up before.
Addie said I still have options, but the overturning of Roe v. Wade has hindered them. Fucking assholes.
Tennesseesucks.
At ten weeks, I only have a brief window of opportunity left to have an abortion, and it would require me traveling to another state if that's the route I choose. And I could. Choose that, I mean.
It's my prerogative. It's my choice.
But I could also choose adoption. I won't, but I could.
And then there's the last option. The one I would never consider if the father of this baby were anyone else. We could keep her. Or him? We could do this…together.
The car in front of me comes to an abrupt stop, and I slam on my brakes. Tears prick my eyes as I cradle my non-existent bump. Terror at the possibility of losing something I don't even know if I want curdles my blood.
What do I want?
I take a right down Kenmore, and then a left onto Brighton before passing the 'Entering Granger' sign. I'll drive by his house and see if it's everything he described in his first podcast episode. The one I haven't stopped listening to, if only to hear his voice. But regardless of the number of times I try to convince myself, it's not only that.
It's the way he says he loves rainstorms.
How they alter his chemistry.
The rainstorm is us. I'm the cloud, he's the rain, and together we're the motherfucking storm.
I thought he was the sun, the light filtering into my life, but I was wrong. He's the rain. He's the sigh of relief when things get heavy and the outpouring of love I hold too close. A storm cloud can't hold onto the rain forever; eventually it has to fall. And when it does…
God damn it.
Without the rain, there's no sun.
His car is in the driveway when I pull in. I don't bother with knocking. I turn the handle, and the front door opens with a groan.
"Hello?" I call.
