She mentioned to me that she has a house in Nashville and she comes there once a year. She might decide to stay there permanently. If she creates a safe and stable environment for Jenna, they will have no reason to refuse her guardianship.
The rest of the day, I stay in bed, grieving for everything I’ve gained and lost. I cry for every baby I carried and then lost. I finally grieve my marriage. I held on to it for so long and sacrificed so much only to be handed divorce papers at a time when I needed my husband most.
Alex called me several times since I spoke to him last. I couldn’t get myself to answer his calls or listen to his messages.
Talking to him last time was too painful. I don’t have the strength to do it again.
He’s probably calling to ask when I’ll sign the divorce papers. I still haven’t dug them out of the suitcase.
He can’t expect me to make a decision like that within a few days. Since I was a teenager, my life has been focused on him. For the longest time, my goal had been to stay with him, to build a wonderful life together, to create a family. Now all that has been taken away.
Lying in bed now, I feel awfully alone. I regret not having made more friends. I chose instead to isolate myself.
I need someone in my life right now, someone to listen and to lean on.
I pick up the phone and stare at it, scrolling through the contacts, until I find Alex’s name. I stare at it, spelling it in my head. Four letters that for many years have stolen my breath.
The first time I met him, my mother had taken me with her to work. She was needed urgently. Normally, she never wanted me to go to her place of work, claiming it was not professional for her to take her child. That day, I insisted. I offered to help her get done with her work sooner, and to my surprise she agreed.
At one point while she cooked dinner for ten guests, I asked to go outside for some air.
In the driveway, I spotted a black Honda Civic with the engine running. A guy was sitting inside, staring straight ahead, his hands on the wheel. Ten minutes went by, and he still didn’t drive off.
At first, I minded my own business, but when I came closer, I noticed the tears on his face. I knew I could get in trouble with my mother, but I knocked on the window, anyway. I wanted to check if he was okay. He asked me to go away, but then he apologized and we ended up talking.
He told me that he planned on taking his own life that night because he didn’t feel it had any value. I talked him out of it, asked him to give himself two weeks to think about it. During that time, I promised I’d check in on him to see how he was doing.
He accepted the challenge, and we exchanged numbers. For those two weeks, I called him every morning and every night, and we texted each other throughout the day.
When fourteen days were up, Alex and I had our first date.
We both fell in love without planning to.
I never told anyone that story, not even my mother. He asked me not to.
I don’t want to let go of what we have, not without a fight, not after everything we’ve been through. We both owe each other another chance to talk.
With my lips pressed together and eyes closed, I listen to one of his messages.
“Baby, please call me back as soon as you can. We need to talk.”
He’s a grown man now, but his voice reminds me of that boy I found sitting in the expensive car, broken around the edges. My stomach turns over. Something is going on, something I won’t understand unless I speak to him.
After taking a moment to gather my courage, I call him back. He answers the phone almost immediately.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask. Even though I’m ready to listen and want us to have a proper conversation, a part of me is still resentful of the way he had treated me.
“I made a mistake,” he mutters. “The things I said to you that day, I didn’t mean them. I was forced to say them. Do you understand that?”
“No, Alex. Actually, I don’t.”
“You know my mother had been pressuring me to leave you. From the moment she reentered our lives, that’s what she wanted.”
“Yeah, that was abundantly clear.” My words are harsher than I intend for them to be.
“What you don’t know is that she only agreed to help me get out of jail if I promised to divorce you. According to my father’s will, I would only get the money if I did.”
“And you agreed.” A battle of emotions is raging within me now, and doubts are swirling in my mind.
