The following morning, after ignoring more phone calls, Leigh shows up at Oyster Cove. The sun hasn’t begun to rise, but I can tell she’s been crying. Her cheeks and eyes are swollen, and her nose stuffy when she speaks.
I lead her out onto the deck so we can talk alone. “If you have something to say spit it out. I have to get ready for work.”
“Brant,” she whispers. “Please don’t do this.”
“I can’t look at you the same, Leigh. It was wrong to go through your phone, but I was worried after the hospital called. How do you think it felt to read text messages talking about this being the second time you aborted?”
Her voice cracks, while she continues to plead. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t tell you. It’s my body and I’m not ready for it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you don’t want children? Why string me along?”
“I’m not.”
I clench my jaw to keep from saying something my parents wouldn’t be proud of. I was taught to respect people, even in the worse of situations. This is by far one of those times. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about this.”
She nods. “I get it. I do. Just tell me it isn’t over. Tell me we still have a future, Brant. I love you so much. I didn’t tell you because I knew it would hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
She reaches out for me but I step away. “Don’t. I need time.”
“How much time? There’s something you should know, though.”
“Spare me the details. I need time. As much fucking time as it takes, Leigh. If you don’t like it then walk away. I have nothing to say to you right now. I’m pissed and hurt, and even being near you makes me want to do things I said I’d never do to a female. I need you to go.”
“Okay, I’ll leave.”
I watch her start walking down the wooden stairs. “Please forgive me, Brant. I love you. If you’d just let me tell you...”
I motion for her to go away and enter the home without a further goodbye.
I love her too. That’s the problem. I feel like she’s taken a knife and stabbed me in the heart. A few days ago we were planning our future, and now I’m not sure if I can be with someone like her any longer. She cheated me out of being a father, and this probably wasn’t the first time.
My family is aware something is going on between us, though none of them have asked. I’m certain Alice has mentioned things to my dad, but he’ll wait until I go to him to talk about it.
The following day I’m in no better shape. I haven’t slept. My mind wouldn’t let me rest. I kept thinking about the could have been possibilities, not to mention everything I now have to deal with. It feels as if I’ve been living with a stranger. The loving caring girlfriend that I fell in love with has a wicked evil side she refused to display. Now I’m stuck reaping the consequences of her betrayal.
I feel like a moron. Who doesn’t notice these kinds of things? I thought living together before marriage helped couples see those other sides. Now a decision needs to be made, and I hate to have to do it.
The bottom line is that I can’t trust her. Looking at her makes my skin crawl and blood boil. She’s the epitome of a good person in my eyes right now. How would our relationship continue to prosper with that type of negativity hanging over our heads?
After work, I head over to the apartment. I know she’ll be at school, so I quickly gather all of my belongings and leave a note explaining how I feel. It’s better this way. I don’t want to break her heart, and I know it’s happening, but I also can’t face her. It’s a lose-lose situation. Neither of us are going to walk out of this happy, and it’s her fault.
Leigh:
I know this isn’t how we saw our relationship going. When you came into my life I felt joy for the first time in a while. You were caring. You made me feel like the luckiest man. Trust is a big deal to me. My mom always told us kids that trust is how we survive. It’s knowing who our friends should be, and determining who to steer clear of. Right now I can’t trust you. What you’ve done has broken my heart. I have nothing but ill feelings regarding our current situation, so I need time to myself to reflect on where we go from here. I’m not writing this to give you false hope. As much as it pains me, I don’t know if forgiveness is possible. Please don’t call or stop by. I meant what I said about needing time.
Brant
With all of my things packed high in the front and back of my pick-up, I leave the apartment not knowing if I’ll ever return.
––––––––
It’s been another week. My back is killing me from trying to sleep on the couch. I toss and turn having explicit dreams of Leigh and Jamie, nothing erotic or fun either. The longer I go without seeing Leigh, the more my mind wanders to Jamie. I was so elated about her agreeing to be my friend again that I’ve been unable to react. I want to stop by, but something keeps me away. Maybe it’s my conscience.
It’s not really about a friendship. It’s never been that easy when it comes to her. Being around her makes it feel like time stands still. When I look into her eyes I see the pure love she exudes. Giving her up has always haunted me, so of course I fantasize about having another go, yet it’s not as simple as I’d like it to be.
I crushed Jamie. I’m lucky enough to have something in common with her to bring us back to a good place. I can’t jeopardize that by throwing myself out there and making it awkward if she doesn’t feel the same way about me. Unlike myself, Jamie didn’t leave our relationship totally happy and in love. I was the first person to devastate her. Things like that aren’t forgotten. They’re what the next relationship is based on, and how to weed out the asshole who could potentially do it again. Unfortunate for Jamie, she happened to marry a real scumbag. If I ever met him in person I can’t begin to imagine the horrible things I’d like to do to him as payback for the way he treated Jamie.
Not that my way of breaking things off with Jamie was any better, but at least it was because I didn’t want to drag her along as I self destructed. I wanted better for her, because I loved her that much.
I wait three more days before I conjure up the nerve to go see her. With a bouquet of daisies in my grasp, I knock on the door and wait. I ring the bell again after a few minutes. Noticing her vehicle is parked in the driveway, I head over to the animal hospital next door to see if she’s over there, but it’s locked. At this point I should probably assume she’s gone somewhere close, but her bicycle is leaning up against the house.
Then I feel like she’s purposely avoiding me. I walk back to the front of the house and sit the flowers down on her steps, proceeding to get back in my truck and drive away. That’s when I hear yelling. It’s coming from the back of the yard. At first I listen, but only hear one voice – hers.
Rushing to make sure she’s okay, I find Jamie sitting next to a small pond. Her knees are brought up to her chest, her phone still in her hand, while she’s in tears sobbing.
I creep up beside her so I don’t frighten her, but in turn do exactly that. She jumps and places her palm on her heart. “Jesus, Brant.”
“Sorry.” I throw up my hands. “I heard yelling.”
“Yeah,” she adjusts the way she’s sitting. It’s fall, but she’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts that hug her curves. My eyes draw her in, while my heart reminds me she’s fragile.
“Want to talk about it?”
“My parents aren’t coming for Thanksgiving. It was a tradition for mine and my ex’s families to spend the holiday together at my parents house, and since they’re all still friends they expect me to come home and be cordial.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope,” she says in a flippant tone. “I’m not joking. My parents want me to put on a smile and be thankful.”
“You going to do it?”
She leans her chin against her knees. “No. I’m going to stay here.”
“Can you go celebrate with your uncle?”
She shakes her head. “No. He’s going to his new lady’s daughter’s house. I’m sure I could tag along, but I don’t know them. I’d rather stay here. I’ll get an oven roaster and watch Christmas movies all day. I might even break out some decorations from the attic and make it look like Santa threw up all over the house.”
“That sounds lonely.”
Jamie shrugs. “I’m used to being alone. I think I need a dog or maybe a cat.”
“How about a roommate?”
She gives me this look like I have five heads. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, I moved out of Leigh’s apartment, but Oyster Cove is too full of people. I’ve had to sleep on the couch for weeks. I’m getting old, so my back is taking a beating. It would be nice to have my own room, with a real bed, maybe some posters of trucks and hot women plastered all over the walls, some cheetah sheets. You get the idea.”
Jamie shoves me. “I can’t take you seriously.”
“Okay, some of that may have been exaggerated. I am serious about the room though. I’d pay rent. I have no problem helping out with utilities, and you know I’m good for it. I’d even stay out of your way.”
“Did you really come here to ask if you could move in with me?”
I smirk and then laugh. It’s probably a terrible idea. “Well, you said you were lonely and I’m homeless. Why not?”
“You know why.”
We stop bickering and stare at one another for a few seconds. I smile and she does the same. “Just as friends Jamie. I’d never take advantage of you.”
“You have before.”
My guffaw doesn’t help plead my case. “Look, back then was different. I didn’t take advantage of you. We need to call a truce, once and for all. No more talking about our past. Let’s pretend we just met. We’re both grown adults. We’ve changed.”
“True, but a leopard doesn’t ...”
“Don’t you dare give me one of your ridiculous analogies.”
“It’s not.”
“Whatever it is,” I argue. “Let’s not go there.”
She’s quiet as she stares at the little pond full of murky water. “I don’t pay much for rent, but it would be nice to have some help with utilities, because I’d like to save up enough to continue making improvements to the house. It’ll be mine one day, so I’d like it to be in top shape.”
“I could lend a hand.” I think she’s pretty sold on the idea, but I need to keep giving her reassurances that it’s a good plan.
“Okay. We’ll try it out. You can take the room at the far end of the hall from my room. It’s the one with the adjoining bathroom.”
“I was hoping to share a room with you,” I tease. Waiting until she give me a reprimanding look, I continue. “Kidding. Just messing with you.”
“I’ve decided to be a lesbian, anyway, so don’t get any ideas of sneaking in my room and taking my breath away. I’m not interested.”
“That’s a shame, because from what I can remember, I’m pretty good at taking your breath away.”
Jamie shakes her head. “This is a terrible idea.”
“If it doesn’t work out I’ll leave.”
“When are you moving in?” She asks.
“Well, most of my stuff is in the truck.”
Her body swings in my direction. “What? You brought your stuff?”
“It’s been in my truck since I left. No furniture, just random crap I’ve accumulated.”
She stands and crosses her arms over her chest. I feel like she does it when she’s uncomfortable. “I’m going to regret this, but come on. I’ll help you carry stuff in. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”
I start to put my arm around her and remember I’m not allowed to do that. This isn’t a relationship. Jamie doesn’t want me like that. I know it’s been years, but it feels so damn natural I don’t know how I’m going to keep from messing up. Being in the same room with Jamie for five minutes makes me think of what we used to have, that burning fire that ignited each time we touched. Now that I’ve walked away from my engagement the fidelity blinders have lifted. My conscience isn’t fighting my dick to stay faithful. Now all I see is Jamie, and it’s overwhelming.