EVOL

by Cynthia A. Rodriguez

  No one wants to be the one to blame. No one wakes up in the morning saying, I want to be the reason my own dreams can’t come true. And while I hadn’t felt ready, it was still something I’d wanted one day.

  Something I still want one day.

  “You got pregnant, baby. It’ll happen.”

  “Don’t!” I pull my hands away again as she tries to grab me. “I didn’t even want the baby.”

  It’s my first time saying it out loud. I hiccup over a sob, because I know I don’t make sense to her but it all makes sense to me.

  “I didn’t want it and then it went away and . . .” How can a person bear so much weight? Weight the world can’t see but it still breaks your body down.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispers and squats down to hold me.

  “Then whose fault was it?”

  My God, all these scars threatened to rip open until I wasn nothing but my soul and a mess of the inner makings of me.

  “No one’s. It just wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  It was commonly said and something the weak held onto; the idea that life was a mass of karma and kismet. I wasn’t buying.

  But I was over being a mess in this moment, so I try to pull myself together.

  My hands shake as I wipe at my eyes. Sabrina pulls me up and this time I move with her, holding onto her.

  “She stared at me like he’d talked shit about me,” I mumble, my voice shaky.

  “Oh, I recognized the look and swooped my happy ass right in there,” she says, tilting her chin up like the dignified bully she is.

  “They look good together,” I tell her as we walk away from the shopping center. I have no idea where we’re headed but Sabrina seems to not give a shit, just placing one foot in front of the other.

  “I forgot what a douche nozzle he is.”

  My phone vibrates in my purse and I pause to grab it.

  When I see Gavin’s name on my screen, I stop walking entirely.

  Gavin: I’m coming home. Fahmida’s husband had a heart attack.

  The rest of the message goes unread as my phone slips from my fingers and clatters to the cement. Sabrina picks it up from the ground and tries to see what has me so shocked, but the screen is black from the impact.

  “What? What is it? Did that asshole text you?” She looks back at the mall, ready to rush back in and kill him.

  “Wrong asshole,” I say quietly, my eyes faraway.

  “Gavin?” I nod, and she presses me for more. “Well?”

  “He’s coming home,” I whisper.

  “Fuck,” Sabrina says.

  Fuck indeed.

  It was only after I was already falling,

  That I looked.

  Who’s to blame for the pieces of me,

  Scattered all over my bedroom floor?

  Day 365

  I was supposed to be strong. But there’s something about living in the very space you fell in love in.

  Nothing belongs to only me anymore.

  Not my shower, not my bed, not even my clothes.

  I’m constantly wrapped in memories while he is living a whole new life without me.

  And he hasn’t missed me, if his lack of messaging indicates anything.

  Me: Good morning.

  Simple.

  The nine-hour time difference doesn’t matter to me. The fact that it’s actually evening over there never mattered when we used to greet each other.

  I stare at my phone, willing him to answer so I don’t feel like an idiot in my nostalgia.

  Gavin: Good morning.

  Now what?

  Before I can decide what I should say, I get another message.

  Draya: Hi. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Hope you’re doing okay.

  Shame hits me in waves; shame over not reaching out to her on my own, shame over caring more about Gavin when Draya had been in my life since I was a teenager, and shame that I still wasn’t ready to respond to her.

  I couldn’t be around anyone remotely put together right now. Truthfully, these days it felt like I couldn’t be around anyone other than Sabrina.

  My phone chimes and I stare at it, praying it isn’t someone else who wants me to be the person I once was.

  Gavin: How are you feeling?

  Like shit. Like I still love you. Like I will forever be in this broken place.

  I turn the phone over on its face and stare at Carlos. He’s sleeping on his doggy bed across the room and I envy his peace.

  I am getting so fucking sick of myself these days.

  Carlos looks up when he hears the sound of me grabbing his leash and my jacket. As he rushes toward the door, I imagine a life where a better me exists.

  Where Gavin remembers that we met a year ago today. But I’m so far from the woman he’d once chased. Looking back, I feel more like her shadow than anything.

  That was the thing about love;

  It came to me, dressed handsomely,

  Caressed my cheek,

  Whispered poems in my ear,

  And made love to my soul.

  When I least expected it,

  It punctured the very heart it sought.

  Day 360

  Today is the day. Today is the day I leave Gavin alone and never speak to or see him again.

  It should be easy with him being in Pakistan.

  Really, it’s a sad little death; saying goodbye to a man I was so willing to love for what could’ve been the rest of my life.

  When I feel like this, I usually message him to say that this is the end.

  And then I end up coming right back and we fall into this disastrous circle of falling in and out of each other; my anger and gloom making it impossible to react to anything properly when it ends up subsiding and I start missing him.

  But today . . . today I slip away without a word. I try to steal my heart back and tiptoe out of this wretched and once lovely thing.

  If he loves me, he’ll make sure I know.

  I look at my phone, at our previous messages, at the anger in our words and the misunderstanding. At the way we snap at one another. At the way he doesn’t ask me if I’m okay anymore.

  At the way he doesn’t call me, he doesn’t say good morning or good night. He doesn’t make sure he isn’t breaking me with his words and his absence.

  Still, among the messages, there are a few sweet ones. Ones that fed me optimism.

  “You look so sad,” someone says. It takes me a second to drag my eyes from my phone screen to the person speaking.

  Paige, this store’s often frazzled manager, walks up to the table in front of me and places her elbows on it, bracing herself. She peers up at me like she’s expecting an answer. When I don’t offer one, only tucking my phone in my pocket, she speaks again.

  “You’ve looked sad since you got in.”

  And maybe I have.

  I don’t doubt it.

  But I don’t find myself wanting to speak to Paige about it. She seems a little too . . . flighty for such a serious topic.

  So, I shrug and pull a stack of individually wrapped tops from the box at my feet. The plastic crackles as I rip each bag open, revealing soft blouses in blush, their puffy sleeves flattened from packaging.

  These would need to be hung.

  But I had to decide if they were mannequin-worthy. That would determine where they would be placed in the store.

  It’s my first day back at work and I don’t want to be so focused on what kept me away. Anyone who asked was told I was on vacation. So that’s what I went with.

  Paige is still standing there, still looking at me. Still waiting, if her eyes are any indication, the way they annoyingly follow my every movement.

  “You know, I’ve been through some things, if you ever want to talk.”

  I set the shirts down and look at her.

  “Haven’t we all?”

  “You don’t have to get defensive,” she tells me, her tone light. “But I can see when someone’s hurting. And I don’t
have the heart to ever just . . . walk away from that.”

  Her words are a little unsettling. The more they do circles in my head, the more I feel them chipping at my walls.

  “Shit, you’re crying.”

  I reach up and touch my cheek. When I feel the moisture on my fingertips, I close my eyes and shake my head.

  Please don’t console me. Don’t make me feel like I can break down . . . because I will.

  Her arms come around me, squeezing me against her. I’m rigid at first but then . . . I sag against her. And it’s like someone is helping me with this weight I just can’t carry anymore.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on, and it’s okay if you don’t want to share. But you shouldn’t ever feel like it’s something you have to go through alone.”

  Her soft words are meant to soothe, her tone calm and sympathetic.

  But they only cause me to pull away from her.

  Because despite what should or shouldn’t be happening, it doesn’t change what is happening.

  The man I’m in love with has moved to another country without me.

  While he was gone, I found out I was pregnant.

  Then I lost our baby.

  And then I lost him.

  I’m a flightless thing;

  Clipped wings and a broken spirit.

  I have no place on land,

  Nor in the endless sky.

  Day 355

  I swore to myself that I wouldn’t argue with Gavin. I told myself when I woke up that today would be better. Today, we would remind ourselves why we even bother answering one another’s calls; why we decided when he left to continue this relationship that is quickly disintegrating before our eyes.

  Arguing is something I could no longer vow not to do. Not when I feel so misunderstood. No, worse than that. It feels like he can’t find it in him to even attempt to understand. The empathy is missing; he’s so caught up in his own life that I am no longer a factor and my feelings aren’t worth the hell I give him.

  Though the arguing isn’t something either of us want; we say this over and over again as we come down from our battles.

  Still, both of us are utterly convinced that we aren’t wrong. We are at this awful place where we no longer speak to come to agreements; we argue our points to grapple over whose anger is more righteous. Who is entitled to feel like they’re the one in the right?

  “It’s like we can’t even talk without you being fucking ridiculous!”

  I’m silent at the sound of his anger.

  “You have to get over this, Denise. We can’t keep talking about this. Going back and forth.”

  He sounds tired, so damn tired. It’s nearing two in the morning in Pakistan.

  But ask me if I give a shit.

  “I apologize! Are my feelings inconveniencing you?” I’m pacing around my apartment while Carlos hides in the laundry room. He’s always hated the sound of me yelling.

  “You’re suffering because of yourself, at this point.”

  “Yes, because I got myself pr—”

  “It isn’t like we were trying to get pregnant! This was an accident, Denise!”

  I’d heard of people saying things that made you feel like you’d been physically harmed. I’d heard of it, but I always thought it was bullshit. I never believed words had that much power, set out to harm with no visible weapon in sight.

  In this moment, Gavin’s words held that power. And he’s wielding it like I’m his enemy.

  “You’re right. You’re so right and it wasn’t something that I wanted or tried for.” Despite my anger, my voice shakes and my eyes water. “But it happened. It all happened and you’re not here. The person I’m in a relationship with isn’t here. It’s just me.”

  “I can’t be there for you the way you want me to,” he starts, his voice softer. “I will never be able to make you happy.”

  “You haven’t even asked me what I need. You just push me away.”

  “Why would I want to talk to you when all we do is argue?”

  There’s a knock on my door before I can respond, though I’m not too certain what would be left to say after that.

  “Hold on,” I tell him. When I unlock the door and see Sabrina on my doorstep, I step aside so she can walk in.

  “Who ya talking to?” Her hair is in this perfect high ponytail, slacks perfectly creased and striped navy sweater showing no signs of pilling.

  “Gavin,” I say. He’s silent on the line and I worry she’s going to go on a tangent, but she rolls her eyes and plops her ass on my couch.

  All while I pace silently, her eyes follow me.

  “Would you be here if you could?” I ask him. It’s the only thing I can think of, being stuck between wanting to speak to him openly and her eavesdropping. For all the staring at her manicure she was doing, I knew that’s what she was doing.

  “In a way, of course. I care about you; I don’t want you hurting. But I’m needed here, too.”

  He can’t see my nod.

  “It’s two in the morning, Denise. I need to get some sleep.”

  There’s this panic in my chest at the thought of letting the conversation end. Nothing was accomplished and while it was our norm these days, it still made me edgy.

  “You’ll call me when you wake up?” I ask him.

  He hums his answers and I whisper good night before disconnecting the call.

  My phone feels heavy in my hands in this silence as I look down at it. I open up my camera roll and start scrolling through. From private photos I’d taken specifically for him, to photos of the two of us and, sometimes, just him.

  I stop at one a friend of his had taken of us and sent to me.

  We were at dinner. His arm is placed around me, hand resting on the back of my seat. He’s facing the camera, smiling. But I’m looking at him, looking as hopeless as I’ve felt since the day I met him. We look like there was no way in the world we could’ve ever gotten to where we are now.

  Sabrina gets up and walks over toward me. My fingers don’t do anything to remove the picture from the screen.

  I want to remember what the good felt like. And a reminder of what he and I once were, what goodness was in the bones of us, might be something we both need.

  She looks over my shoulder and I hear her small sigh.

  “You look beautiful,” she murmurs, leaning in closer.

  But all I see is him.

  “I just want this back,” I say, and it sounds more like a wish than a statement.

  “Things change.” Her arm comes around my shoulder. “You went through something. You’re still going through it. Who knows what’ll end up happening.”

  My eyes widen as I look at her.

  “I thought you hated him.”

  Sabrina shakes her head, a small, patient smile on her face.

  “Hate is such a big deal. I mean, yeah I think he’s a fucking asshole now but look at how happy he made you.” She gestures to my phone. “If he can do that again, I’m all for it, shorty.”

  I toss my cell on the couch and scratch Carlos behind the ears when he ambles over, sensing that the coast is clear. He appraises Sabrina for a moment and it’s like her look of disdain discourages him from approaching her.

  “That’s something you and Gavin have in common. Neither of you have the patience for Carlos.”

  “He’s just so big and hairy and slobbery,” Sabrina complains. Her phone chimes and she pulls it out, her brows pinching together in concentration.

  “Looks like you’ve got some work to do.” I walk over to one of my windows and pull back the curtain. North End is beautiful right now, with people walking the streets and the sun partially hidden by clouds but still making it bright outside.

  “So, when’s your follow-up appointment? For the results?”

  I don’t look at her when I answer.

  “I have to wait for another doctor’s schedule to open up.”

  A pause and then, “Why?”

  “I requested a new d
octor. No big deal.”

  “Uh, what the fuck happened, Denise?”

  My eyes flit back to her and then outside again.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You said your appointment went well but now I’m hearing otherwise.”

  I snap my curtain shut.

  “Why the hell are you making a big deal about this?”

  She doesn’t even look at me as she types away quickly, almost furiously.

  “Don’t you dare try to clean this up for me,” I tell her as I rush up and snatch her phone away. When she reaches for it, I chuck it across the room.

  “You’re out of fucking control!”

  “No! I’m finally sticking up for myself.”

  Her wide eyes turn into slits and she places her hands on her hips.

  “You fired the doctor I hand-picked to help you. What exactly happened? Did you have a meltdown? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you! You’re not thinking rationally yet.”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. My response, while angry, was much milder than it could’ve been.

  “Oh, fuck off, Sabrina. I’ve never been known for being the rational one.”

  “I need to come to your appointments from now on!”

  “No, you don’t! And calling it a meltdown is so dramatic. Besides, you know! You saw how cold he was to me.”

  My hands are gesturing out, willing her to remember how she had to hold me as he blandly went through the information, the only person not experiencing the emotional backlash from the news he’d dropped like an atom bomb.

  “I also know how great of a doctor he is.”

  “Well, I don’t want him,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, my chin tilted and my eyes daring her to try and change my mind.

  “You said you could handle your appointments alone, Denise. That you didn’t want me hovering anymore.”

  We’re in a standoff in the middle of my living room. And while neither of us intends on harming the other, this conversation isn’t something I wanted to have anymore.

  My life was mine, regardless if I was fucking it all up or not.

  “Thank you for helping me but I think I’ve got it now.”