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“I know.”
“I understand your pain, I do. You wanted this baby, desperately; it was all over your face every time you came in. This has nothing to do with you or your husband or your body. When you do carry a baby to term, and I know you will, you’ll be a wonderful mother.”
I breathe out, then in again. “It hurts, I keep thinking… What if. That maybe—”
“You did something wrong?” She nods. “I’ve heard that. I’ve felt that. And it’s not true. I’ll give you some time to think this over, but the sooner the better.”
Then she gets up and leaves, too.
Leaving me alone.
I don’t know how long I sit there. It feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only a few minutes. Somehow I manage to slide the grief away to be unboxed later and I’ve never in my life been so grateful for numbness. It helps.
Maybe that’s nature’s way, too. I go to grab my bag and text Maya when I spy Travis’ phone. Lit up with a text.
J: Well?
One word and my heart plummets because it’s just a letter but I know who it is. J. Jessica.
And everything rushes at me. A tsunami I can’t stop and I think I stumble. But one thing is left behind in the maelstrom’s aftermath.
Relief.
That’s what was in his gaze.
Relief.
Relief that he doesn’t have to continue the charade of wanting me when we both know he married me because I was pregnant.
I’m aware, somewhere in the back of my brain as I grip the top of the chair in my hands, I’m aware this isn’t the time or place where anyone can think clearly, where the crash and bash of everything said, the fact the ex he was so wildly in love with he hated the very sight of me until he decided he could deal. Pretend. Whatever. The fact his brother spoke to me. The sheer fact that he hasn’t come after me to beg me back, hasn’t forced me to listen to what he wants or tried to wiggle into my good graces. Fact after fact, whether true or exaggerated or not, hits me. And I’m aware that they all might add up to something or nothing or I might be blowing my life up with homemade dynamite.
I’m dimly aware that my wants and needs and desires are jumbled with shock and pain and too many emotions to be rationally dealt with.
Yes. I’m aware of all of that.
I just don’t care.
I’m also aware of something else.
Something that stands like I am. Alone in the aftermath of everything I’m surrounded by.
One fact.
One I heard from his very lips.
He married me because he knocked me up.
He married me because he knocked me the fuck up and he’s a good guy doing the right thing and that’s the relief I saw.
He doesn’t have to pretend to be in love with me, hitch his life to mine forever because we mixed our DNA.
Oh, he’ll stay with me.
He’ll offer to make it work to do anything and everything for me.
He cares. I know he does.
He’s a good man.
