by M. S. Parker
I’d never be a mother.
A hundred dreams I’d never realized I’d had were gone now, and I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of all the years stretched out in front of me. Empty.
I’d never hold a little boy or a little girl and wonder what I’d help create.
I’d never feel little hands grasping mine or hear a soft voice saying Mama for the first time.
It was an ache that almost leveled me, and I struggled with how to handle it.
In my hands, my phone buzzed, and I flicked the screen, listless.
It was another text from Ryder.
Once I opened the message, I realized it was a picture. Ryder and Natanael smiled out at me from my phone. I had to blink back tears.
The simple text that accompanied the picture made my eyes burn.
We miss you.
I missed them too.
I missed them in ways they’d likely never know.
I didn’t let myself call Ryder back, though.
I would. Soon. Soon, I’d have to talk to him.
As I lay curled up in my chair, staring outside at yet another snowy evening, I came to a decision.
It was the right one, I was sure of it.
I even almost believed myself.
And soon, I’d have to tell Ryder.
I dreaded it, but in my heart of hearts, I knew it was the right decision.
Now I just had to find the courage to tell him.
I had to figure out a way to tell him that it was over.
Really over, this time.
29
Breanna
I took a long, hot shower. I would have given anything to soak in a hot tub for a while, but I had to avoid baths until my stitches were out. Once I’d dried off and slicked myself down with lotion, I dressed in the most comfortable clothes I could find – loose, drawstring-pajama pants and an old, faded t-shirt that was soft from a thousand washings.
I took care as I moved through the apartment. I hadn’t had one of my pain pills all day, and I didn’t plan on having one any time soon. I wasn’t averse to them, but I needed my head clear for what I had to do.
I also wanted to drown my tears in a bottle of wine once this was done.
Narcotics and alcohol didn’t mix, and I figured I’d need the alcohol very shortly.
I thought about calling Stella to talk things over with her but decided against it. Even thinking about the conversation that lay ahead of me made me want to weep and I had to stay steady until I was done talking to Ryder.
Ryder.
I sat on the couch with my eyes closed and my thoughts full of him.
He’d called and texted so often, and I still hadn’t worked up the courage to answer the phone when he called.
His latest message was a glaring challenge.
I miss you. Can I come over, Breanna? I just want to see you.
I hadn’t answered him.
I would call him shortly and then it would be over.
I miss you. His words carved deep, ugly scars into my heart, and I wanted to bury my head in my pillow and scream.
I knew I was doing the right thing. The selfless thing.
But it still hurt like a bitch.
I put the phone in my lap and played out the conversation I needed to have with him.
I did it a dozen times over, until I had rehearsed everything I wanted to say.
Then I did it again, convinced that there was something I’d leave out, something I wouldn’t remember to say.
Or worse…the things I might say that I knew I shouldn’t.
When the phone rang again just after seven, I closed my fingers around it and picked it up. I didn’t look at the caller ID just yet. I squeezed my eyes closed and willed strength and courage into my bones.
It didn’t help much.
The phone rang again, and I looked at it, blowing out a nervous breath in the process.
But it wasn’t Ryder.
Stella’s picture showed next to the text, and I swiped my thumb over the screen, taking the call.
“Hello?”
Stella’s voice, warm and gentle, greeted me. “Hey, sweetie. How are you?”
“Lousy,” I replied. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the padded back of the couch. “Completely lousy.”
“I’m sorry.”
The sincerity in her tone had my eyes watering, but I blinked to clear them. I couldn’t keep crying over this. The tears wouldn’t change anything.
“Is there anything I can do?” Stella asked. “Want me to spend the night? I can pick up a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, and we can eat ourselves silly.”
“No.” I didn’t want to be around anybody just then. “I’m not ready for that, Stella. But thank you.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Ryder’s been out here. He keeps asking me what’s wrong, says you’re not talking to him.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.
“Just talk to him. You’ll feel better,” she told me.
No, I wouldn’t. I didn’t tell her that, though. I didn’t want her to try and talk me out of this. I was doing the right thing. I knew that. But one push in the other direction and I knew I’d fall over, giving into the greedy want I’d felt for Ryder almost since the first.
“I’m going to call him soon,” I said obliquely.
“You should have him come over,” Stella told me. “Have him bring pizza and ice cream, and you can curl up against him and just cry.”
I tried not to think about how good that sounded. I ached to feel Ryder’s arms around me, to hear him murmuring my name as he brushed my hair back from my face.
But I wasn’t about to have him over.
It was the coward’s way, maybe. I’d end things over the phone. But the nagging ache in my belly and the overall exhaustion I felt convinced me that I could take the coward’s way out. I practically had a doctor’s excuse to do it, even.
Stella, unaware of the decision I’d made, said, “I’m glad you’re at least going to talk to him. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
“I’m never alone,” I told her. “I’ve got you, right?”
“Absolutely.”
We talked for a few more minutes, and Stella managed to nag a list of groceries out of me, telling me that I didn’t need to exist on Ramen noodles and eggs until I felt more like going shopping.
It would be a relief to have somebody handling that for me.
She hung up, and I sat there, holding my phone in my hands as I thought about what I needed to do.
A part of me was tempted to just text him and get it over with, but I was already taking the easy way by doing this over the phone. I could get a little more personal than just a text.
“Call him,” I told myself. “Get it over with.”
I dialed slowly, ignoring the tremor that had settled in my fingers, ignoring the way my gut tightened.
Ryder answered before the first ring even finished. “Bree!”
I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Ryder,” I said, struggling to keep my voice neutral.
“How are you? I’ve been worried sick – is it okay if I come over? I can bring dinner. Or you might not be hungry…”
His rambling ran down after a few more seconds. “I’m not hungry right now, Ryder.”
“Okay. Can…” He hesitated, then asked, “What’s going on? Why did you have to go back to the hospital?”
I’d debated long and hard on this, uncertain what I should say, but knowing I owed him something.
I opened my mouth, and to my horror, I almost blurted out the truth. I bit my tongue to keep the stream of words from coming out. Tongue now throbbing, I closed my eyes and thumped my head against the back of the couch – hard.
After two more thumps, I stopped and focused on the phone. “It was…female issues. I’m good now,” I told him.
I’d hoped he’d be happy enough with that vague response, b
ut Ryder pushed for more. “What was wrong? Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine. I mean, well, I will be,” I said, focusing on the second part of his question. Tears burned my eyes, and I lifted my gaze to the ceiling. I already wanted this call over with, but I hadn’t even explained why I’d called.
“Listen,” I said, my voice catching. “I know this isn’t fair to do it this way, but I’ve got to focus on my health and everything for the next little while. I don’t want you to keep waiting…”
The knot in my throat swelled up, making it hard to speak and I had to stop and clear my throat.
When I didn’t speak again right away, Ryder said, “What’s this about, Breanna? What’s wrong?”
“I…” I squeezed my eyes shut and ignored the ache of tears clogging my throat. “Listen, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”
Save for the hammering of my heart and the ragged rhythm of my breathing, I heard nothing.
“Ryder?”
“I heard you,” he said, tone level.
“I hate to do it this way, but…” I floundered for something else to say, but I just didn’t know what. Except the truth, and I wasn’t about to blurt that out. “I just think it’s for the best.”
“If that’s what you want, Breanna,” he said.
I tightened my hand on the phone. No! I wanted to shout. It’s not what I want.
But I stayed silent.
“I need to go,” Ryder said, his voice a polite and icy calm. “I hope you get to feeling better soon.”
The phone call disconnected, and I lowered my cell to my lap, staring out at nothing and trying not to think.
He hadn’t even argued, I thought dully.
He hadn’t tried to change my mind. Nothing.
It wouldn’t have mattered, I insisted to myself. My hands had fisted in the soft, faded cotton of my pajama bottoms and I had to make a conscious effort to relax my fingers and let go of the material I’d been gripping.
He hadn’t argued.
But even if he had, I’d done the right thing.
The right thing shouldn’t leave one feeling so aching and hollow inside.
Slowly, I got up from the couch and made my way around the apartment, turning off lights and checking the locks.
It was nowhere near time for me to turn in, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting alone in the silence of my apartment. Not for another minute. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, wincing a little as discomfort pulled at the right lower half of my belly. Pressing my hand to the bandaged area, I waited for the pain to pass, then I opened the cabinet and took out the prescription bottle that held the painkillers.
I’d thought I’d want some wine and maybe a dopey, sad romance movie to help me get through this, but I found that even staying awake was a horrible idea.
I just wanted to sleep and forget.
Lying in my bed a few short minutes later, I blocked out the mental voices of Ryder, Stella, even the doctor as she explained that I’d likely never have kids.
But there was one voice I couldn’t block out.
It was DeLaria’s, soft and warm, as she confided in me that Ryder had always wanted a large family.
I’d never be able to give him one.
But he could find that with somebody else.
It was the right thing to do.
Even as tears burned my eyes, I told myself I was doing the right thing.
Rolling onto my left side, I reached out and gripped the pillow that Ryder had used when he stayed the night a few days back. I fisted my hand in it and drew it closer. With my face buried against its softness, I told myself, again, I’d done the right thing.
But it didn’t stop me from crying myself to sleep.
30
Breanna
The week dragged by.
If I had thought I could get through a day, I would have gone to work just so I had something to fill the hours.
Lukas had called me personally to tell me to take as much time as I needed. I didn’t need more time.
I needed to work and forget. But my body wasn’t up to that.
The week passed slowly.
I fielded calls from my mother, father, and siblings. I talked to Louise, my big sister, the most. She seemed to understand that I didn’t want to think about what happened and kept the topics light and easy, talking about her job as a skydiving instructor and regaling me with amusing tales about some of her students.
Ryder didn’t call.
It hurt a little.
I would have thought he would at least try to talk me into changing my mind, but whenever the phone rang, it was somebody other than him.
You told him you wanted to end it. He’s just respecting your wishes, I told myself.
It didn’t help the ache though.
Nothing did.
Stella had come by twice, the first time with groceries, the second time with gooey cupcakes from a nearby bakery.
I’d cried into my wine as I ate it, and Stella had wrapped her arm around me.
I wanted to get out of the house, and Thursday, I dared to venture to the barista just down the block.
I was sweating lightly by the time I got back, but it had felt good to do something other than sit around.
I no longer hurt as much, at least not physically, and I was hoping that by the time Monday rolled around, I’d be up to going back to work. Maybe just for half-days, at first. I knew the doctor had recommended two weeks, but since I spent most of my time sitting at my desk, and all I was doing at home was sitting on the couch, what would it hurt? I’d still be sitting.
Stella came over that night.
She didn’t have her bribery of sweets, but I hugged her all the same.
She followed me into the kitchen where I got us both a cup of coffee from the pot I’d made just a little while earlier.
Sitting at the table, Stella studied me.
“You broke up with Ryder.”
I looked away. I didn’t want to talk about this. She hadn’t asked about him at all this past week, but I had a feeling my grace period had come to an end.
“It seemed like the best thing to do,” I told her.
“Why?” she asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.
I opened my mouth to answer, but the words didn’t want to come. “It just seemed like the right thing to do,” I said again.
Stella sighed. “I’m here for you, you know that, right?”
“I know.” I glanced back at her, a wan smile on my face. “I’m just still trying to come to grips with everything.”
I’d told her what happened, explained that the doctor didn’t believe I’d ever be able to get pregnant.
When she’d asked about in vitro, I’d shaken my head. I’ve got a lot of issues with endometriosis. Even assuming I could afford artificial insemination, there’s no guarantee. Even if it did, carrying a baby could be hard.
I’d cried on her shoulder then, and she hugged me, rocking me back and forth as though I were a child.
Now, as we sat across from each other, I saw a world of questions in my friend’s eyes. I didn’t want to answer any of them.
“Is this…” She hesitated, clearing her throat. “You broke up with Ryder because of what happened, didn’t you?”
I looked away, tears burning the back of my eyes.
“Did you even talk to him about it?” she asked.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I told her, shaking my head. “I did what was best.”
“Bree–”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said, shoving back from the table and getting up. I moved too fast, and my belly complained, sending a jolt of pain through me. I braced a hand on the table and breathed slowly, waiting for it to pass. As the pain ebbed, I looked up at Stella and shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about this, okay? Just…let it go.”
“I’m sorry,” Stella said from her seat. She took a sip of her coffee, then lowered it back to
the table and met my eyes. “I’m just…I’m worried about you, Bree.”
“I’ll be fine,” I told her automatically. What other choice did I have?
I took my coffee into the living room, and she followed me, sitting across from me on the couch.
“How are you feeling physically?” Stella asked over the rim of her cup. “Getting around better?”
“I went to get coffee this morning,” I told her. With a grimace, I added, “I felt like I’d been run over by a train by the time I got back, but it was good to get out of here for a little while.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Speaking of getting out of here…” She reached over and covered my hand with hers. “Tabitha and I are thinking about going to the cabin for the weekend. We want you to come.”
I hesitated.
“Come on, sweetie.” She squeezed my hand. “You need it. You said yourself it was good to get out for a while. We’re leaving a little early. I can come over here and pick you up. It’ll be just the three of us.”
“I don’t know.” Sipping my coffee, I stared at the table. But the longer I brooded, the more I realized I needed to do just that – get out of the cabin, make myself take those first few steps back toward my life. “Okay. I’ll come.”
“Great!” Stella laced our fingers together. “We’ll watch sappy movies and eat popcorn and chocolate until we’re sick.”
With a weak smile, I said, “It sounds fantastic.”
Friday afternoon, I bundled up and loaded into Stella’s SUV. She had insisted on grabbing my wheeled carry-on, and Tabitha hovered at my elbow like she thought I might pass out.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, fastening the seat belt and meeting Tabitha’s gaze.
“I know… I just…” She hesitated, then shrugged. “I’ve been worried. Can I worry a little?”
“Just don’t fuss,” I told her. “My mother is doing enough of that for everybody.”
Tabitha nodded. “It goes against my baser instincts. I’m a natural fusser, a born worrier. But I’ll try to restrain myself for you.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”
