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My first instincts were to head into town and drink myself stupid before finding a woman to bury myself in. It’s what I’ve always done. Instead, I’ve thrown myself into my music to ease my pain.
Between Andrew and the band, my days are packed full. I don’t have time to think about her. It’s the nights when I can’t escape her. Sometimes it feels like she’s still here. I can feel her next to me. I can hear her breathing. I can smell her sweet scent. But when I look over, she disappears.
I glance at the clock. It’s six. I’m surprised I slept so long. Lately, I seem to sleep in hour-long intervals. I’d better get up and see if Andrew’s awake. When I roll over, paper crinkles under my arm. I sit up, looking at a white envelope with my name on it.
The flap isn’t sealed. I’m filled with apprehension as I slide the letter out and unfold it. It’s thick.
Dear Brady,
I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’re a good man. I feel terrible leaving, but I’m not ready for what you’re offering me. I can’t hack it. I want to be young and unattached. I always have. I can’t do that with Andrew.
I have some confessing to do. Starting with the night Andrew was conceived. We did use protection the first time. That’s right. It happened twice. After you passed out, I woke you up. You were out of it and I knew it was wrong, but I hoped I would get pregnant. My life was such a mess. You were heading to law school and from an affluent family. Plain and simple, I wanted to trap you. It almost worked. When I came to tell you I was pregnant, Sheila was home. I told her. She offered me a lot of money to disappear and never return. So I took it. I denied Andrew his father for what seemed like enough money to last a lifetime. It wasn’t. In three years, I’d spent every dime. Then I heard about Sheila killing herself, and I knew it was time for you to know your son, but not because I felt bad about what I did. No, it’s because I was broke. I learned what happened to you, and I thought if I showed up with Andrew, you would want to be with me, because you never knew either of your parents, and you wouldn’t want that for Andrew. I’m not in love with you, but I thought I wanted the financial stability for me and Andrew that you could provide. Now that you’ve offered it, I realize what I really want is to be free from motherhood. I’m too selfish to be a decent mother. I’m not a good person, Brady, but you are.
Andrew deserves you for a father.
He doesn’t deserve me for a mother.
So I’ve made a choice to leave and never look back. It’s the right thing to do. I love him enough to know that if I stick around, I will only screw him up, like my mother did to me. Attached to this letter you will find paperwork terminating my parental rights. I had them drawn up a while ago. All you have to do is sign them. He’s yours. He’s been through a lot, Brady. I’ve been a terrible mother. He’s slept in cars, been left home alone, and dropped off with whatever friend I could pawn him off on. It was wrong. I know that. I’m trying to do the right thing now.
I do love him, more than my own life, even. That’s why I have to do this. Take care of him and give him the family he should have.
You need to go to Minnesota, Brady. Don’t wait another minute to tell Tori how you feel about her, and don’t leave until she hears you.
She’s hurting, but she loves you.
The last of my confession concerns her and why she filed for the annulment. I heard her on the phone before she left, leaving a voicemail for her mom. She was going to stay. She wanted to work things out. It was the night I came to you in the studio. I knew she’d see us. I’ll never forgive myself for trying to come between the two of you. I know how much you love her.
She’s a good person.
She’ll be a wonderful mother to Andrew.
I’m sorry.
Annabelle
The letter drops to the bed. I can barely breathe. For a while, I just stare at the wall in front of me. I’m struggling to understand how Annabelle can be so self-involved and so immature, yet write something so completely from the heart. Because she’s devious. Everything is a manipulation. She’s whoever she needs to be to get what she wants.
I try to call Annabelle, but the number is already disconnected.
My pulse hammers away in my ears the more I think about it. I’m not sure who I’m more pissed at, Annabelle or Sheila. I can’t believe Sheila not only kept me from my real father but kept my child from me. Of course I can believe it. She was a sick, sadistic bitch.
The first thing I do is find Liv to ask if she can watch Andrew for a couple of days. Next, I make a long overdue phone call.
Chapter 22
Tori
It’s been a week, and I haven’t heard from Tug. I sent him a couple of texts, but he never replied. I was foolish to think we were good. He wants more than friendship. He wants my heart. It’s the one thing I can’t give him.
I can never erase the line we crossed. I’m not prepared to love him like he should be loved. He deserves complete devotion. I can’t offer him that when I’m still hopelessly in love with his brother.
I’ve lost them both.
Thankfully, I started school, and between that and work, I’m not left with much time to ponder how much Tug must hate me or what Brady is up to. I enjoy all my classes, except calculus. It’s the second time I’ve taken it, and it’s still impossibly difficult. Work is fun and easy so far. I like all of my co-workers. While I will always have a void in my heart, it’s not as large. Having my own life, my own identity, has helped me to heal. It’s taken a while, but I finally feel settled.
When my last class is out, I drive to my doctor’s office. I have an appointment with Dr. Engfelt for a therapy session. Her office is too white. It feels like I’m locked in a cloud. It should be inviting and comforting, but it’s not. It’s cold and sterile. I can never quite relax.
After Dr. Engfelt and I talk, she tells me she thinks I’m making significant progress with my postpartum. I feel it. The burdens that were weighing me down are lighter. I no longer cry myself to sleep. She wants me to continue the medication for at least another month. I agree because I don’t ever want to feel that lost again. I spill my guts about what happened with Tug. Although her disapproval is evident on her face, she explains how someone battling PPD typically engages in self-sabotaging behavior. I listen intently as she talks about how I should be careful. Using Tug to punish myself could be detrimental to our friendship. Where was this advice before I jumped in with both feet? Is that what I was doing? It didn’t seem that way at the time. I’m not sure if she’s right, but I nod politely until she’s finished.
