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He sat at the other end of the couch.
He looked confused. “Um, for not telling me about the baby before the Olympics. I know how important winning was to you.”
I stood. My voice shook. “You think I knew about the baby?”
Now he looked pained. “Didn’t you?”
I couldn’t answer him and be completely honest.
He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
I found my dress, and put it on. “Is that why you left? You said you had training. And then you never even called me. I called you. I left messages and you never called me back.”
“I did have training. But when you told me in the hospital that the doctor said you lost a baby, that you lost our baby, I couldn’t process that you’d been pregnant. You never said anything. Then, when I thought it wasn’t mine…” his voice trailed off.
“Why would you think it wasn’t yours?”
“I came to Los Angeles a few weeks after. I wanted to apologize for leaving you, especially at that time.” He wrung his hands together in front of him. “I came to the stables and you were all snuggled up with your trainer.”
“Oh jeez! We were never together. I think your vision of ‘snuggled up’ was most likely him being a friend while I was crying over you, you dumb shit!”
He stood from the couch. “When you moved back here, you’d changed. You were all stuck-up and pretentious.”
I covered my mouth in shock. “Is that what you think of me?”
“How was I supposed to think of you? You went out with every athlete or movie star that came to town.”
I stood and went toward my room. “So, you can have a revolving door of casual hook-ups but because I date, I’m the one that ruined our chance of being together?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, frowning.
I was close to tears. “You don’t seem to even like me anymore, if that’s how you see me.”
He whispered, “I like you, Camille.”
“You don’t act like it.”
He stepped toward me and put his hand gently around my arm. “Tell me I’m wrong, Camille. Tell me I’m wrong about the baby. Tell me I’m wrong about your trainer.”
I shook it off. “I just did. But, if that is how you see me, it won’t matter.”
He followed me into the room. “Explain it to me.”
I turned on him and poked my finger in his chest. “Oh, OK. And in the meantime, why don’t you explain all your strange bedfellows. Then we can call it even.”
He groaned and pulled on his hair. “Can we please try and have a calm conversation?”
I pointed my finger at him. “Do not patronize me.”
“Camille, when I saw you in the hospital bed, I felt helpless. You looked so fragile. I hated that I couldn’t fix it for you. Before I even knew we’d lost a baby, I felt like I’d let you down.”
I started shoving my clothes into a suitcase, not even bothering to fold them. I knew I was being impulsive and irrational but I couldn’t stop the feelings of guilt that were bubbling up.
“Where are you going? Would you stop?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea that I stay here anymore. We’re running circles around each other. I’m going to the Community Foundation to tell them I can’t do the calendar, and then I’m going to Mia’s. She offered her new garage apartment, and I think that’s a better place for me.”
“Why are you cancelling the calendar?”
