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I just don't know how to be with him right now, that's all. A week of thinking about it hasn't helped anything. I doubt a month would. Our entire relationship has been a puzzle. Why would things change now?
One thing I do know: I need to get out of the house. Acting like a hermit might work for Tatum, but I need something more than the same four walls, or I will start going out of my mind. It can't be healthy for the baby, either, lying around when I don't need to. Sneaking up and down the stairs while listening to make sure Callum isn't nearby. Dreading theslap slap slapof his shoes against the hard floor, knowing the second I set eyes on him, I'll want to give in. That's no way to live.
Yet, here I am, refusing to go. No matter how many times I turn the situation around in my mind, I can't get any closer to making sense of it. I should go. This should be the end. Nobody would put up with this sort of shit–and if I was on the outside of this situation and listening to a good friend tell me about the kinds of things I've been through, I might tell her to go. For good.
However, there's a difference between standing on the outside and being on the inside. I understand that better now than I ever did before. I understandhimand why he does what he does. And damn it, I love him. I can't walk away from somebody I love. Especially when I'm carrying his child.
Yeah, I definitely need to get out of this house. After pulling on a sweater and leggings, I add a pair of sneakers and go to the door to listen for any signs of him. I'm not afraid. That much, I know. He won't hurt me. No, I'm afraid, as I tiptoe down the hall with my heart in my throat, that if I see him, it's over. My anger will melt into a puddle. A puddle I'll slip in and inevitably land in Callum's arms. I get the sense that if I don't hold out and make him understand what he did and why it hurts so much, I'll never get another opportunity again.
The upstairs hall is clear, as is the vast, winding staircase. I remember back when this house felt foreign to me. It took forever to feel comfortable walking around on my own, no matter how many times Tatum told me I could. Compared to where I grew up, this is a palace.
Now, here I am, jogging down the stairs, leaning over the railing occasionally to see if anyone is coming my way. It's ludicrous, and I know it, but that's not enough to stop me. I don't need anybody asking where I'm going and reporting back to Callum. Besides, I'm not sure where I'm going. Away from here, that's all I know for sure.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, and my gait slows a little when I look toward the door leading to Tatum's wing. She used to leave it open sometimes, back when we were younger. Now, it's always closed. She lives in her own world of pain and loneliness. I don't even know if she's up or dressed or anything. I don't even know if she'd want to spend time with me if I asked. How is it that we've drifted so far apart?
When footsteps ring out, I have no choice but to either leave now or risk getting caught up with Callum and probably arguing about whether it's okay for me to go out alone. I'm not trying to take a massive risk. I know better than to parade myself around after what's already happened. That's not going to fly with Callum though, and I know it.
So instead of approaching my best friend and asking her to take a drive with me, I bolt, scurrying outside. It doesn't feel right, running from the house like this, even so, I can't face him now. I'm still too conflicted.
On the other hand… I can't risk anything happening while I'm out on my own. Already my conscience is plaguing me, but it's for the right reasons. There's a guard patrolling nearby, rounding the side of the house and approaching when he finds me standing by my car.
“Nathan?” I call out when I recognize him.
“Everything alright?”
“It's fine. I have to take a drive and wonder if you'd come with me.” When he glances toward the front door, I know what he's thinking. “I'm sort of in a hurry. We won't be long, and you're armed. Right?”
“Right.” But it looks like he wishes he hadn't found me out here, just the same. Better somebody else get in trouble.
“Come on. I'll drive.” When he scowls, I add, “It's been weeks since I had the chance. You can drive back if it makes you feel better… or you can stay here and be the one who lets me go off on my own.” Sort of a shitty thing to say? Maybe, but nevertheless, it gets the point across. He rounds the car and slides into the passenger seat while I text Callum to tell him I'm leaving and am not alone.
There's a sense of something close to confusion when I get behind the wheel. It's not like I forgot to drive or anything, yet the last time I did was the last time I went to work. The last time I opened the door, it was with the expectation of going out with my best friend and having dinner.
Instead, I was kidnapped, and from there, it only got worse.
I shake off my nerves and start the car, pulling out before there's a chance of getting lost in my thoughts. I still don't know where I'm going to go. I only know I love the freedom surrounding me, a freedom that I wasn't aware I had missed so much. I still don't have anyone to talk to, to honestly talk to, but at least I can choose my own adventure for a little while.
At first, it's enough to simply drive with a silent Nathan watching out for any threats beside me. I'm almost amazed at the way the world keeps turning. People are eating their lunches in the park the way I used to do sometimes. Kids riding on bikes, couples holding hands as they go for an afternoon stroll. I wonder how many of them understand how suddenly everything can change. It's almost enough to make me want to shout out the window and tell them to get as much out of the good times as they can.
It's not like my life is inherently bad or anything like that, but I know how it feels to lose. That nauseating shock when everything changes all at once. I've been through enough of that to last me a lifetime.
I don't know if my thoughts guide the car or what, but before I know it, I'm rolling slowly through yet another tall, iron gate. This time, it's not the gate in front of the Torrio compound. This place is much more peaceful and holds more meaning. Nathan only grunts softly as I drive along the wide, gravel road that cuts through the heart of the cemetery.
I can't remember the last time I visited Mom's grave. All I know is that she's the one person I wish more than anything I could talk to at this moment. All my questions and worries about the baby, and myself. About what to do next, and how to build a life with a man willing to go as far as Callum went and will undoubtedly continue to go. I've never wished so hard that I could sit next to her, maybe put my head on her shoulder like I used to, and have a good cry. I'm not little anymore, but I guess we all need to act like little kids sometimes.
It's a beautiful day, full of sunshine and the promise of a stunning autumn around the corner. The sky is so blue it's almost unreal, and there isn't a cloud to mar its perfection. The leaves are still green, but they won't be for long. I'm sure the towering yet graceful trees will burst out into a riot of color in another month or so.
I pull up close to Mom's plot on the south end of the cemetery and step out of the car, noticing the various bits of evidence that plenty of people visit their loved ones more often than I do. Flowers in different stages of decomposition, wreaths, and decorations adore the other headstones. Other graves sport weeds around the base of the gravestones. Some of the plaques in the ground are covered by overgrowth.Are those people forgotten?Maybe their loved ones are all dead and gone, too, or perhaps they never had any, to begin with. What a sad thought.
“I'll, uh, wait by the car and keep a lookout,” Nathan offers as I start walking toward Mom's grave. He seems even more uncomfortable now than when I strong-armed him into coming with me. Some people don't like cemeteries, I guess. Even big tough guys who carry guns.
My sigh of relief sends birds fluttering from the nearby trees when I find Mom's headstone in good condition. There are dandelions and clumps of overgrown grass around the base, but for the most part it looks alright. I wonder if Dad's been here recently as I drop to one knee and begin pulling the weeds. I feel like I need to do something to prove I care.
Once everything's cleared away and there's nothing to do but sit with my thoughts, I settle back on my heels with my hands folded in my lap.
“Hi, Mom,” I whisper, cringing at how awkward this feels. Do people usually speak out loud to their dead loved one's graves? It feels better than doing it in my head, plus there's nobody around to look at me like I'm crazy. “I'm sorry I haven't been here to see you as much as I should,” I continue. “I hope you know it's not because I don't think about you. I still do. I think about you all the time. Right now, there's not a day that goes by when I don't think of you and remember who you were and wish you were here. In fact, I think about that now more than ever. With a sigh, I look up, taking in my surroundings. “This is a pretty place. Some of the trees were just saplings back when we first buried you here. I was just a little girl then, right? And now look at me. Your baby is going to have a baby.”
A baby she'll never hold.A baby who will never know their grandmother–and Callum's mother has been gone for a long time. He rarely mentions her, but I know his father raised him alone.
