to please everyone. It seemed I never could measure up. I spent a lot of time with babysitters, who definitely didn’t want to spend time with me. My parents seemed to always be busy, working, cleaning, doing yard work. It seemed like I needed to entertain myself. I got good at doing that. I loved reading. I would grab whatever books I had available to me and I would read. My mom encouraged it, except she wanted me to read my schoolbooks and study. My dad, well, as long as I was quiet, he didn’t seem to care what I was doing. I spent time with my grandparents. There, I could run and play outside as they lived in the country. My grandfather would give me the world. He let me snuggle in his lap, he kissed me and smiled as soon as I walked through the door.
There was no one else I wanted to be with when I was with him. He was the sweetest man in the world. He made me feel like a princess. We’d take my grandmother to work, then pick her up. I’d ride with him through the country, rolling up and down hills where he’d say, “tickle belly.” When the road would dip, he’d speed up and my stomach would flop into my throat. I’d laugh and giggle and he would follow suit.
My grandmother loved me too. She would snuggle with me and play silly games with me while my grandfather watched. Everyone said I was the apple of their eyes. I felt like it too. My grandmother would have serious talks with me, like I was a grown-up, only I wasn’t. If I was sad, upset, or angry she would say, “Time for a conference.” I didn’t always like the things she said but I always listened and eventually did the right thing.
We would sit and talk. I would hold her hand and rub my finger over a spot on the top of her hand. It always drew me to it and it was one of my favorite things about her. Her hands were always soft and always welcoming to me. She and my grandfather were so important to me. I felt like I could just be me around them. I didn’t have to impress them. I didn’t have to study. I didn’t have to be the best at anything to please them. They just hugged me and loved me the way I was—awkward, confused, and lonely. That’s who I was or what I was at that age.
I wasn’t popular at school, but I went and did what I needed to do. I hated gym class because I was never good at it, especially running. Seriously? Why did I need to know how to run? Was I going to be attacked later in life that I needed to be prepared? God, I hated it. The gym teachers picked on me because I had no coordination and no drive to do the stupid things they wanted. I mean, this was elementary school for crying out loud. Let’s face it, I wasn’t going to be the greatest athlete the world ever saw. No, I was more likely to be a librarian or American Literature teacher, only I hated school. I did have one function outside of school, I twirled batons. I found that to be special because I could control it. I had been doing that from the age of four. I marched in parades, practiced, and had more bumps and bruises doing that than an athlete had from their sport. Did I mention how uncoordinated I was?
One night, while I was at practice, which my grandmother took me too, my grandfather got ill and was taken to the hospital. I wish I could say I understood what was happening, but I was maybe eight. I know that I saw him in the hospital and he had machines and tubes everywhere. He didn’t talk to me or open his eyes. I was terrified. There was nothing that prepared me for that.
Every morning though, I would bounce out of bed, ready to go see him in the hospital, until one morning my grandmother pulled me in to have a conference. After that, I never wanted to have another conference again. The first man that I ever loved whole-heartedly had died in his sleep. He was gone, never coming back. Never hugging me and kissing me again. No more tickle bellies in the car, no more snuggling on the chair, and no more smell of Old Spice when he held me to his chest. It was all gone.
I didn’t fully understand the concept. I mean, my grandmother explained it to me. She told me he’d be watching me from Heaven and he’d always be with me in my heart, but he would never be here with me again, physically. I cried when she said that. I mean, how was I going to live without him? Who was going to make me feel like a princess? Who was going to look at me like I could do anything? Who would take someone so important away from me? I cried and cried and then cried some more. My heart was broken into a million pieces. All I wanted was to feel him hug me one more time. Kiss my cheek and forehead as he snuggled me in his lap, rocking me on his rocking chair. I felt alone. I felt deserted. I felt like I couldn’t take a deep breath. It hurt.
After a little time passed, my parents moved us in with my grandmother. She enjoyed having me there with her and I didn’t have babysitters anymore because she was there. We played our silly games. We listened to music together and we would sing loudly and off-key to everything. I still missed my grandfather and we would talk often about him. She explained that it was the way life was. We would be here doing things and then as we got older, we would eventually come to never exist except in the hearts of those who loved us. I told my grandmother that I would love her so much that she would never go away. She would smile and say, “I know you would but, honey, unfortunately, one day, I will go away too.” I didn’t want to believe her. I didn’t want to think about not having her in my life.
As I got a little older, school became harder. My parents were unhappy and they would fight whenever they were together. My grandmother would meddle and that didn’t make things better. Eventually, my grades slipped and my mind would run far away from life. I didn’t want to live in reality. I had friends at school and even a boy who said I was his girlfriend. It was silly, really, but I liked him and let it go. He would hold my hand in the hallways and kiss my cheek once in a while. It was all very innocent and carefree.
One day, my parents sat me down and told me they were getting a divorce. I had just entered my teen years. Talk about hormones raging and confusion. This news sent me into a real spiral, and not a good kind. My mom was moving out and wanted me with her. I was terrified. Where would we go? What school would I go to? Would my dad and grandmother miss me? I cried. I didn’t want to leave. I loved my grandfather’s house and the country life. I loved my school and I liked that I had a boyfriend there.
Eventually, although it broke my mom’s heart, I stayed with my dad and grandmother. I needed to be there. Getting older really sucked. Junior high school was hard and kids were mean and cruel. Growing up without brothers or sisters was tough because you were all alone with no one to stick up for you. Eventually, my boyfriend lost interest because I was sad all the time.
I missed my mom, and I missed my family the way it was. Why did things have to change? I didn’t understand. It was painful growing up. I felt like nothing mattered anymore. I felt like I could never do anything right. I didn’t want to be close to anyone, and I didn’t want to love anyone either. It hurt too much. First, my grandfather, now my mom left, my first ever boyfriend lost interest in me, what next? It was all too much.
Things got crazier the older I got. I enjoyed my anchor, which was twirling. I had a friend who I knew would be my lifelong friend. She made me laugh and I could confide anything in her. I shared my pain and the things that I didn’t understand, and together we grew up and went through the boy crazy phase that most teenagers went through.
I was gaga over a drummer from one of our competitors. She was gaga over her high school sweetheart. Together, we could laugh and joke and dream. We didn’t live close, so we only saw each other at events, school, and practices but we were forever friends. We just clicked and knew that the other would always be there to lean on.
Heartbreak happens. That’s what everyone says. For me, heartbreak was just happening all the time. I fell hard for the boy drummer. He had a name, but I will never utter it again. It hurt too much to even think of him. He was everything to me. He made me feel special. He made me smile and he let me be a part of his family. He had a little brother and sister who adored him and I adored them. We would take them with us roller skating, walking through the neighborhood. Wherever we were, it was a lot of fun.
Of course, we weren’t of driving age, so everywhere we went, our parents had to pick us up and drop us off. Sometimes, it would just be him and I. Those times were special to me. That was when I had my first kiss. We were roller skating, and the night was almost over. My dad was due to pick us up at any moment and we were taking our last skate around when he slowed down and let me skate into him. He leaned in and kissed me. It was magical. Give me a break, I was thirteen or fourteen. At that age, ice cream was still magical. But talk about awkward… my dad saw my first kiss. He didn’t look all that happy about it either.
After that encounter, my dad wasn’t quick on letting me spend time with my boyfriend. But we carpooled to parades and events, so I still got to see him. One day, we were going to a parade. We met up with him and his mom. We were taking him with us because she had to work. When he got out of his mom’s car, she waved and I waved back, smiling.
I absolutely loved her. She cracked me up and was so sweet to me that I couldn’t help but like her. When my eyes moved to him, I saw he was carrying a stuffed bear. When he got into the car, he handed it to me. My heart was beating wildly out of my chest. I thanked him and hugged the bear tight to my chest as a tear rolled down my face. I was so happy. My dad, not so much.
We used to talk on the phone and meet at the local mall. Anything to spend time together, although he didn’t hold my hand and we only kissed that one time. He would smile at me and sit close to me in the car to events, and at the mall when we’d sit and people watch.
He would hold my hand when we’d go skating. Well, when his sister and brother weren’t there, because if they were along, he didn’t have an option of holding my hand. I had both kids on either side of me from the beginning of the night to the end. I never minded, but he never looked really happy about it.
Eventually, he stopped calling as much. He made excuses to not go skating or go to the mall. Even carpooling to events stopped. His mom, brother, and sister would look for me at the events and would always hug me and kiss me. I would ask about him and his mom would say, “You never mind about him. You are way better off without him.”
I always found that hard to believe, but I would tell her, “I miss him. Please tell him I said hello.” She would always look back at me with a tear in her eye just like the tear in mine.
The years went by I started driving, and I never saw him or heard from him. His sister, brother, and mom would find me at every event and hug and kiss me every time. I never stopped looking for them. In fact, I loved my time twirling and the parades and shows, but I loved them more, knowing that I would get to see them. The kids grew up and still they watched for me. One day, I told them I would not be attending any more shows. This was my final year. They cried that they wouldn’t get to see me and I cried as well. His mom didn’t cry, but instead, handed me a note.
I had to tuck it away to read later, but I hugged her as I knew it was from him. My unit was moving out, and I had to go perform. I smiled through my performance. I couldn’t wait till the end to watch the kids perform. I rarely got to watch their performances, and I knew they’d be happy to see me at the end of the parade.
Since I was old enough to drive, I took myself to the parades as my parents were tired of the years and years of it. It was fine with me. I never tired of it. Usually after every parade, we’d hustle to the car and get out of there, but this night, I got to enjoy the parade. I watched his sister and brother perform then hugged them at the end. His mom asked me if I’d read the note. I shook my head no. She smiled at me, pulled me into a hug, and kissed my cheek. We said goodbye, and I headed off to my grandmother’s car. Once in the car, I debated on reading the note and decided I wanted to read it when I got home instead. I drove home, happy for a change, singing to the radio.
Once I arrived home, I ran into the house, changed my clothes, and sat on my bed to read the note.
Dear Abby,
I’m sorry for not facing you before, but I needed to do some things, and I wasn’t sure where those things would take me. Forgive me for not telling you in person, but if you would give me a chance, I’d like to explain. Please call me tomorrow after school. I’d like to meet up with you to talk.
Love,
Me
Tears were in my eyes and I was too excited to sleep. I kept imagining what tomorrow would bring. Eventually, I fell asleep. I got up for school and asked my dad and grandmother for permission to go out later that night after school. My dad agreed as long as I wasn’t out late. My grandmother said I could use her car.
After school, I couldn’t wait to call him. As soon as I got home, I did the little bit of homework I had for the night and then called.
His mom answered and said, “Aww, hi, love. He’s here. Let me get him.”
As soon as he got on the phone, my heart started beating wildly and I could barely focus on his voice. He didn’t say much, just that he’d like to meet up. I told him I could pick him up as I had my grandmother’s car. He said that would be fine.
An hour later, I pulled into his driveway. I heard his sister and brother yelling to me, but he warned them to stay in the house. He came out and got into the car.
“Where are we going?” I asked him.
He grinned. “I really don’t know. Just drive.”
I backed out of his driveway and hit the road. We just drove around for a good half hour. He reached over at one point and took my hand. I was soaring.
“You said you wanted to talk.”
I felt his eyes looking at me but I couldn’t take my eyes off the road.
“Yes. We’ll talk. For now, I just want to enjoy being next to you.”
I pulled into a parking lot, turned off the car and said, “Where have you been and why did you stop calling me? Did I do something wrong?”
He looked over at me. There seemed to be pain in his eyes. He reached out his hand to touch my cheek.
“Please know one thing. You never did anything wrong, ever. It’s been me.”
I looked at him as though he was crazy. “I don’t understand.”
He shook his head, then pulled me to him and kissed my lips. It was a soft meeting of lips, lingering for a few minutes, but then he pulled away, resting his forehead on mine.
“I have missed you.”
We sat in that car, resting our heads against one another, neither saying another word. He twined his fingers in mine and we sat for a while. Eventually he said, “We better head back. It’s getting late.”
I looked at the clock and realized it was getting close to my curfew. I started the car and headed out of the parking lot to go to his house. Once there, I turned the car off, and he opened the door and got out. I got out too.
He came over to my side of the car. His eyes held the pain again.
“What is happening?” I asked him.
He shook his head. He crushed his lips to mine and kissed me again. This time, it had an urgency to it and he slid his tongue into my mouth. I was shocked at first as this was my first real kiss. I followed his lead. When he pulled away, I felt like I was floating in the air until he spoke.
He pressed his forehead against mine, his hand on my neck, and said, “Abby, none of this is your fault. This is all me. I shouldn’t have met you tonight. I shouldn’t have sent you that note, but I had to see you one last time.”
My heart stopped in my chest and I gasped. Tears filled my eyes, and he pulled back to look in them.
“Abby, I’m not going to contact you again. I can’t. It’s better this way. Please know that my heart will always be with you, but you deserve better than I can give you. You deserve better than me. Take care of yourself, Abby. Goodbye.”
He kissed my cheek and ran toward his house. I hollered after him, not recognizing the agonizing voice that came out of me. Tears ran down my face, I watched as he hit the front door. He turned one last time, and there was agony on his face. He turned and moved inside the house.
I was frozen and heartbroken. I didn’t know what to do. I turned to open my car door, not sure exactly what had just happened. I sat in my car and cried. Once I was able to pull myself together, I started the car, backed out of the driveway, and headed home to cry myself to sleep.
When I arrived at home, my grandmother met me in the living room as I tried to move quickly to my bedroom. She stopped me.
“What’s wrong, Abby?”
I burst into tears and ran to my room. She followed me. Once she came into the room, she found me lying across the bed, crying my eyes out. She came in and sat next to me. “Honey, what happened? Do we need a conference?”
Those words made me cry harder.
How did I explain to her that I was in love with someone who didn’t love me back? I had loved him for as long as I could remember. I can’t say that we broke up because we weren’t really together, were we? Evidently I meant nothing to him or how could he have treated me that way? I was so confused and unsure of everything. My grandmother just sat there, rubbing my back, letting me cry until I cried myself to sleep. She moved me over in the bed and crawled in next to me. She slept with her arm around me all night.
When I woke up the next morning, she was still there, waiting to see if I was okay.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I looked at her and said, “No. I never want to talk about it.”
She nodded her head. “If you need me, I’m here.”
That was the end of it. I never spoke of him again. I never wanted to let anyone in again.
I buried myself in my books. I read everything I could, but I didn’t focus on my schoolwork. I dated here and there. I allowed myself one more serious boyfriend before the end of high school and that ended even worse than the first. That pain I guarded and never talked about with anyone.
My dad and I drifted apart, only to drift back together when he went through a bout of health issues. He was very sick, and we were scared, not sure he would get better. You had to understand, I loved my dad. Never did I drift away from him on purpose, but we were on different wave lengths. We were different, but yet the same in many ways. We were both lonely creatures. We wore our hearts on our sleeves and we just wanted to be loved.
The difference was I wanted to find happiness in my books and guard my heart. He wanted to be happy finding love again. I wasn’t willing to risk that. During my dad’s health issues, my grandmother and I would be with him as much as we could, but I was now out of school, in my mid-twenties working and trying to save money for college, as I didn’t want to go to college right out of high school. My dad’s health got better after several surgeries but he needed my grandmother and I to take care of him. They sold the house I grew up in which was hard. My grandmother moved into an apartment and my dad was with her for a while till he was well enough to move into a small home that he could take care of himself.
My mom, by this time, had moved on. I spent time with her. I had a room at her house and she remarried. She and her husband were talking about moving out of state and I told them I’d visit if and when I could, but I encouraged her to follow her dreams. She and I talked a lot, but we did better in short doses. We tended to fight when we were together for long periods of time. My dad and I were a lot alike, but still, he and I did better in short doses as well.
I just felt better alone more often than not. Curled up in a book and lost in my head. I liked the peace of just me. Odd, because I say I’m lonely, but I get tired of hearing people telling me to put myself out there. Why?
I spent a few months on my grandmother’s sofa until I found a small apartment of my own. I lived there for a while, then one day, I got a call from my dad. My grandmother was in the hospital. She wasn’t going to pull through. She was very sick, and I needed to get there. I had just seen her the night before. I didn’t understand. She was giving me cooking lessons, teaching me recipes and how to pair things together.
Since she’d moved into the apartment, we had standing dates to cook together. But most of the time if I wasn’t working, I was with her. I spent nearly every free moment with her, talking, reading books together, cooking, laughing. I loved spending time with her. She would often ask me, “Why are you here with an old woman. You should be out with friends, going on dates. You should be enjoying yourself.”
I would smile and say, “I’m right where I want to be and where I need to be.”
I didn’t really date, anyway. I didn’t have it in me to spend time with someone and risk feeling something. It just wasn’t who I was anymore.
I arrived at the hospital and I sat by her side. She talked to me and seemed to be fine. What was Dad talking about? I cried, telling her that I loved her and I couldn’t wait to have our next cooking lesson.
She shook her head and told me, “No, my dear. You will have to cook alone from now on. I am not going to be going back home. This is the end for me. It’s time for me to go be with your grandfather. I’ve been sick for a while now. This is the final stage.”
I cried and laid my head on her shoulder on the bed. “I don’t understand. Please don’t leave me too.”
My grandmother ran her hand through my hair and said, “I will always be in your heart. Please don’t cry. You will be okay.”
I cried and told her I would never be okay again. She talked with me while she could. She told me to open my heart again. Don’t stop believing in love. Give myself a chance at happiness. Someday someone would be worth the risk. Someday, life would surprise me and take me on a journey worthy of my heart and soul. I didn’t want to believe her. I couldn’t believe her because I hurt too deeply in this moment. The pain of not seeing her anymore was too much to bear.
A week later, she was gone. My dad tried to comfort me, but he couldn’t. How was this happening? Everyone I loved left me. What was I doing wrong? No more. I couldn’t take anymore. My dad remarried. I worked several jobs. I had a waitressing job early in the morning. I worked in a grocery store in the afternoon and then I worked at a bar waitressing in the evenings. I needed the money to keep my apartment, food, and pay the bills. My dad and I would talk on the phone between my shifts, and on my days off, I would go see him. My stepmother was not who I envisioned my dad with but he seemed happy enough.
My mom’s new husband was much easier to get along with and so when I would talk to her or be able to visit her, I felt more comfortable. They had stayed local but were planning to move within the next year. I would miss them when they moved, but I was happy for them. They needed this and deserved it. My mom took a chance and found love a second time, but was I that brave to take the chance? For now, I was happy enough seeing that she was happy. I knew that when they moved, I wouldn’t get to see them much because I wouldn’t have money for traveling. At least not right now. Maybe eventually, but for now money was tight.
I worked hard and spent every free moment I had reading or writing poems for myself. It was my way to release my thoughts. My forever friend and I would grab a bite to eat once a month and catch up on what was going on in our lives. She married her high school sweetheart and had a baby on the way. I envied her and her ability to love someone. Time was moving on. I dated off and on, never giving my heart but taking time to be with people.
My dad was my priority. Spending time with him was my first priority, then dating. I wanted to be sure he was doing okay. His health scare a few years back scared me, then losing my grandmother, well that worried me too. But he seemed to be doing well. He would come to my apartment, sometimes fixing things here and there for me, but he never pushed me into dating.
I would go visit my forever friend and play with her daughter. I would babysit for her so her husband and her could go out and I would love every minute of it. That little girl was the light in my darkness. So brave, so fearless, and so innocent. My friend was a lucky woman. She was pregnant again. I was happy with spending time around her and her family. Luckily, her husband and I were close as well. We were able to spend time together and not feel uncomfortable with each other. He was caring and wanted the best for my friend, and I was grateful that she had someone who loved her so much. I had wished that one day, I would have that too. But for now, I had enough. At least that was what I had told myself.
I had been dating a man for a few months. We were close and I was even letting him into my heart. Piece by piece, he was inching his way in. He would take me to the movies or to dinner when I wasn’t working. He complained that I didn’t have enough time to spend with him, but I told him I needed to work when I could to afford to be on my own. He understood but hated that I wasn’t always available.
My dad seemed indifferent to him when he met him and I just took it that he wasn’t used to having to share me. After a few months of dating, we were sitting on my sofa, listening to music, eating pizza and just relaxing. He told me he loved me and my heart soared. I wanted to believe in love again. I wanted to just embrace it. I turned to him and told him that I loved him too. He kissed me and we ended up making out on my sofa until we both needed more. We headed to my bed, and we made love. It wasn’t the first time for me, but it was the first time that I allowed my heart to believe.
After that night, he was at my apartment all the time. We spent every moment together. We made love every night, and we were happy. At least I was happy. One week, I had been feeling sick, and I called off from my morning job, which never happened. I felt better later after drinking some hot tea and taking a warm shower, so I went to work in the afternoon, and in the evening, I worked my shift at the bar. Halfway through my shift at the bar, I started to feel sick again, and I left early to head home.
Driving home, I figured I must have the stomach flu or something so I grabbed some ginger ale and crackers at the store. I got home, and the apartment was empty. I figured he was working late. I crawled into bed and fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, I was still alone and thought it was odd. He still had his apartment and he knew I hadn’t been feeling well, so I figured he was just staying there to let me rest. After I had been up and out of bed, getting ready for work because I couldn’t afford to miss anymore shifts, I ended up running to the bathroom and threw up. This was not a great start.
I pulled myself together and headed to work. I was feeling worse and worse during the breakfast rush. My coworker asked me if I was okay. I told her I wasn’t feeling well and told her what was going on.
She laughed, then said, “Girl, are you sure you’re not pregnant?”
I looked at her in shock. I shook my head. “That’s impossible. I mean, we always use protection, but…” My thoughts wandered and I remembered, shit. One night he begged me to let him go bare. He promised he’d be careful. Could it be possible? Damn! I left my morning job, headed to the pharmacy, bought a pregnancy test, then headed to job number two. I made it through the other job and went home. I arrived again to an empty apartment. I called him and left a message, asking if I would see him later. I never received a call back.
I fell dead asleep that night and woke early in the morning when I felt him crawl into bed with me. He pressed himself up against me and I felt his naked body against mine. He pushed all my buttons, waking me to his touches, his caresses.
“I missed you, Abby.” I moaned as he touched my body, making me want more.
“I missed you too.” I rolled over on top of him and we came together, hotter and harder than I ever remembered. There was so much passion, so much desire. I had never felt that before, well other than the one night we made love without a condom. Again, we didn’t use a condom, but he pulled me off him, flipping me to my back before he came all over my stomach.
I went to the bathroom to clean up and when I came back to bed, he was fast asleep. I lay on the bed, unable to fall back asleep. Where had he been the night before? Was I pregnant? If I was, what the hell was I going to do? I could barely afford my apartment now even working three jobs. There were no more hours in the day to work and babies were expensive.
At some point, I must have dosed off. I woke up to an empty bed and a note.
I’ll see you later, had an early shift, Love, Me.
I had a sick feeling in my stomach and I ran to the bathroom and threw up. What the hell was going on? I took the pregnancy test and read the directions. I peed on the stick and I went to the kitchen, making hot tea instead of the coffee I so desperately wanted. Then I went back to the bathroom to check my results.
“Fuck! No, this wasn’t happening. I’m pregnant.”
I fell to my knees on the bathroom floor and cried.