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Izzie
Tears continue to blur my vision as I reach for a t-shirt, using it to wipe the rivulets off my face before tossing it into the suitcase. I circle the room restlessly, the room echoing in its emptiness my racing emotions. With each step, I remind myself that I'm doing the right thing, making the prudent choice. The current life I lead has turned stifling. Yearning for a man who can't reciprocate my feelings, feeling like an outlier in my father's picturesque, new family - it's a chapter I'm ready to close.
Engulfed by a whirlwind of emotions, I cram items into my luggage haphazardly, a symphony of necessity and despair. Amid the frenzy, I grit my teeth against the wistful thoughts that recollect yesterday's painful encounter with Zak. Like numerous times before, he had, with a few casual remarks, chipped another piece off my already fragile heart. Our relationship has morphed into a relentless vortex of yearning and heartbreak, a cycle where he persistently asserts that we are nothing serious. Yet, each time we knit back together in the guise of authenticity, only for him to unravel it again, my heart plummeting in the wake of the destruction.
Regardless, I have a plan. Drive back to California, rekindle the friendship with Charlotte, and confide the turbulence brewing within me. Together... we'll weather through it.
I emit a frustrated groan as I rummage through products, only to find that Luke has emptied out my cherished purple shampoo. Even after my cautionary advice on its futility and expense, it seems he decided to use it anyway. It has absolutely zero effect on his hair.
As I cast the empty bottle aside, a wave of reality slams against me. The luxuries I have taken for granted might become rare commodities once I get back to California. Am I ever going to be able to afford to buy myself such nice things? I shudder to think how much a newborn child would cost, let alone the daunting task of having triplets. I shake my head - such worries can wait their turn.
Returning to packing, I shrug off the financial burdens looming in my future. What's important is I escape this town, away from the embarrassment suffered at Zak's rejection. The art lesson, designed with love and hope, had only worsened the sting of his indifference.
Last night, dad and Mel attempted to persuade me against leaving; little did they know the storm brewing within me. I glance down at the evidence of my current predicament concealed beneath my loose clothing, demanding the sanctuary of solitude.
My father and Mel might be oblivious to my condition, but I can't shake off Mel's probing glance. A woman's intuitive gaze is harder to fool. I wonder if her suspicions were related to my barely-there baby bump or if she has gleaned information about Zak and me. Her veiled comments every time I left to work at Zak's were too subtle for Dad to notice, but they always made me wonder how much she really knew.
“Have agreatday Izzie,” she’d coo while smirking. Maybe I’m reading into it. I clearly read into Zak’s gestures, fabricating an entire relationship between us and a potential future that clearly didn’t exist. Maybe I am just a bad judge of character, or maybe I am going insane.
As I make my exit, my departure is marked by melancholy emanating from Mel and Luke. Luke is oddly upset, considering our summer-long arguments. But I reassure him with a hug and a promise to return soon. More lies, spilling out of me. This town is full of lies. Mel and I, having started on the wrong foot, manage to part ways amicably, a small victory in the midst of chaos. I still can’t say we’d ever love spending time together, but after that day at the beach I think we have a new understanding of each other.
As I secure myself in the car, a surprising sense of tranquility engulfs me. The turmoil of tears has ebbed, replaced by a peculiar numbness. Cast free from the summer and all of its twisted tales, I feel an immense relief, despite the compelling reminder of my predicament concealed beneath my shirt. I rub my belly on instinct, a habit I had picked up but ensured to only do in the privacy of my own space.
As I process the reality of my escape, it dawns on me that I'd left my laptop behind. A profound curse echoes in the confines of the car. As much as it pains me to return, my laptop is an indispensable extension of my life. It is a repository of my college work, a digital scrapbook spanning years of moments captured in pixels. I silently berate myself for constantly pressing "remind me later" and ignoring the desperate pleas from the cloud to back up my life. From now on I vow always to use the cloud. I laugh to myself at that thought, yes, one should ensure to back up their laptop in case they ever find themselves running away from their summer fling, who also happens to be the father of their unborn triplets.
The sight of Zak's ostentatious car parked outside the house jams my heart into my throat. A bitter realization runs its course, reminding me once more that to him, we were simply a summer affair, a fleeting season of romance now gone. Drawing in a deep breath, I steel myself and advance towards the house, my gaze never faltering from the door, my mind refusing to wander into the depths of heart-wrenching memories.
The squelch of brakes makes me tense, and the air seems to thicken, prohibiting any further movement. Fear knots my stomach as I hear footsteps cautiously approach, Zak’s presumably. Anxiety bubbles within me, but the newfound resolve pushes me forward. The last vestiges of the old Izzie, the naïve, inexperienced girl who would've succumbed to Zak’s charm, are squashed. The woman I've become, steeled by former betrayals and newfound responsibilities, stands her ground. Though my heart begs me to turn around, to look at him and ask him just one last time if he truly had no feelings for me, my head knows better. The girl who would’ve done that is long gone, she was pre-Marcos Izzie.
The house's thick wooden door offers temporary sanctuary as I hurry upstairs, Mel's voice a distant echo questioning the ruckus. But her enquiry is interlaced with the relentless knocking on the front door - Zak, I presume. Finding the laptop on my bed as anticipated, I can feel the clamor of the house recede.
Suddenly, the room wavers as the onslaught of sudden dizziness disrupts my focus, my body crumbling as a wave of nausea overwhelms me. I reason it’s the stress, or worse, a symptom of my condition, and I have to sit before the impending vulnerability can harm me or the precious cargo I carry. I need just a moment to gather myself, then hopefully I can figure out a way to slip out of the house unnoticed and return to my car, get back on the road, back away from all this.
Unexpectedly, the door creaks as Zak steps into the room. Despite my heightened senses dulling as the room spins, his query rings out clearly, its import searing through the disarray. A question I haven’t anticipated, but one that I know would ultimately be asked.
"Is it true, Izzie? Are you pregnant?" His words linger in the tense air, awaiting my response.
Zak's question seems like an unwelcome reality now given voice. I pause, finding the strength to look up at him. Tears well in my eyes - less from the fear, and more from the exasperation. I almost whisper my response, as if speaking the truth out loud would make it harsher.
"Yes, Zak... I'm pregnant."
The room falls into an unnerving silence that is abruptly shattered by his stunned gasp. His facade of composure wavers, and a flicker of anger flashes through his eyes - an anger directed not at me, but perhaps at himself, maybe even the situation. But still, instinctively I shuffle back and fling a protective arm around my stomach.
"You're... How... why didn't you...?" Words stumble over each other as he grapples for coherence.
"Why didn't I what? Tell you?" I challenge, rising from the bed to meet his gaze. "Was I supposed to reveal something so personal to a man who, by his own admission, had no feelings for me, Zak?" My voice is soft, yet filled with a burning defiance, the bitterness of his rejection still raw.
His face mirrors the shock coursing through his veins. He shifts uncomfortably, mouthing words that refuse to form. As if the absurdity of the situation has finally caught up to him, he runs a tense hand through his hair.
“Izzie, that's not what I...” His words trail off, overridden by the ominous sound of approaching footsteps. The door flies open, revealing my father. His face is a cool mask, his eyes, however, betray a storm of emotions.
"Did I hear right, Zak? My little girl... you've..." His voice barely conceals his rage, each word heavier than the last. A deafening silence hangs in the room, so thick it threatens to strangle us. Before Zak can process or react, Dad's fist meets Zak's face with an impact that echoes through the room.
My world turns to slow motion as Zak stumbles back, crashing into the dresser behind him. His shocked eyes lock with mine amidst the chaos. But soon, I am alone again, this time nursing the aftermath of not one but two revelations.
The room is a tableau of shock, with raw emotions seeping into its every crevice. Before I can wrap my stunned mind around the sudden punch, a shrill voice slices through the deafening silence.
"You disgusting whore!" Mel's accusation echoes through the room, her figure looming at the door. Her face is contorted in disgust and unmasked outrage. The woman who once warmly invited me into her home now regards me as an intruder.
