“Well, that was easy,” I told Mom with a smile.
“Why don’t you go ahead, and I will go downstairs to help your dad.”
Mom turned and headed back down the steps and I walked to my room. The door was ajar but the room was empty; my roommate hadn’t shown up yet. I set down the couple of items that I’d brought up with me and then headed back downstairs to help my parents.
Two days later, after getting my room just right, attending a freshman luncheon with my parents and sharing a tearful goodbye, I watched them drive away. Saying farewell to my folks, especially my mom, was not easy, but I was ready for this change.
I was ready to have time for myself, time to focus on becoming the woman who God created me to be.
BRENDAN LOOKED TOWARD the nightstand where the pen and notebook were stored.
“You have something to tell me?” I asked.
He nodded, so I got up to retrieve both items. Just like the night before, I adjusted his bed to make it easier for him and waited patiently while he wrote down his message. When he turned the notebook around so I could see what he had written, my breath caught in my throat.
I am proud of you, too. You became the person you've always wanted to be. I love to tell people my baby is a teacher.
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath while the past five years started to fade away. Even without him speaking the word, I could hear his voice call me 'baby' again. Just like the snap of a Zippo lighter or the scent of Grandma Nancy's tea with lemon, that word always brought me back to memories of our time together.
And then he looked at me. His familiar brown eyes tried to suck me in, but I held on to the new person I was, not the little girl I used to be.
“Brendan, I'm not your baby anymore.”
I know. It's just...will you get my wallet?
I looked around for it and finally spotted the brown leather square by the television. When I brought it back with me, I noticed Brendan had already added another sentence:
Look at the pictures.
I expected to see a photo of his nieces, Hannah and Natalie, or maybe one of Brendan and his partner, but that wasn't what I found. Every spot in the eight-page billfold photo keeper had a picture of me: one of Aimee and me from our sophomore year of high school, a photo of Brendan and me from my eighteenth birthday, three different poses from my senior pictures, and three others I didn't remember, but they were all me.
“Brendan,” I said, my voice very small. “I...oh, my...I honestly don't know what to say.”
I looked up and realized while I was going through the wallet, he'd written
I never wanted to let go...
And then he added,
...but now I have to.
Fresh tears came then. I couldn't help it; my emotions were taking control in my exhaustive state.
I have never stopped loving you.
“I know that,” I told him, wiping my tears away. “And the truth is that I will always love you, too. But you have to admit our relationship was toxic.” I reached for his hand again. “As much as I wanted to save you, all we managed to do when we were together was bring each other down.”
Brendan dropped his eyes from mine and nodded. He knew I was right, but hearing the truth did not make it any easier to deal with.
“You know what, we both need some rest.”
Brendan began to shake his head in protest, but I stopped him.
“Yes we do, even if you don't want to admit it.” I looked up at the clock. “It's almost seven; I've been here all day.” I stroked his hand with my thumb. “I'll be back tomorrow, I promise.”
Once again, he raised his eyebrows with a silent question plaguing his eyes.
“Will I stay until you fall asleep?” I clarified. “Of course.” I stood up from my chair and kissed his forehead.
“Get some rest,” I whispered. I think he was sleeping by the time I sat back down.
I came to a realization as I sat there. Several times over the past five years, I had discussed our relationship with my mom. Most of what we talked about revolved around the many times Brendan had cheated on me and whether he loved me. After a few years, I finally agreed he probably did love me the best he knew how, but I never believed it until that night in his hospital room.
Seeing my own face in his wallet over and over, watching his reaction as I walked in the room each morning…these things helped me understand Brendan’s point of view. He loved me, but the only examples he’d ever had were flawed. By the time his dad married Aimee’s grandma and they became a blended family, Brendan was old enough that his impressions on love were already set. The damage had been done, and I was not strong enough to break those ties. But that was okay because I had tried my best. I knew that.
And now Brendan did, too.
SIMPLY PUT, COLLEGE was amazing. I loved making new friends and being independent. My classes were challenging and invigorating, but the small campus was still home-like and manageable. I settled into a routine nicely, knowing my way around the 125-acre campus and feeling like an old pro with my meal card before August was over.
Finally it was time for an extended Fall Break weekend in early October. With no classes on Friday and again the following Monday, I was set to go home for a four-day weekend. I’d told Brendan that I would be home on Friday morning, but the reality was that Mom and I were planning to surprise him on Thursday night.
To avoid Mom being in the car for six hours in one day, I hitched a ride with my friend Colleen to her house in Ft. Wayne, and then Mom picked me up there. I was really glad to see her; after all, Brendan was not the only person I missed.
In the two hours it took to get from Ft. Wayne back to Toledo, Mom and I talked about how we would make the surprise happen. She planned to let me off at the corner in front of Brendan’s house before going around to the back door. Her alibi of inviting him over for some supper would be enough to get him from the yard to the sidewalk where I would walk up behind him.
Thanks to daylight savings time in the Eastern Time zone, it was dark by the time we got there. I stood on the corner shaking with anticipation, anxious to see my love. I heard the noise of the door shutting and heard Brendan’s voice tell Grandma and Grandpa that he was going to dinner at my parents’ house. Mom came through the gate first and I took a few steps forward so that I would be that much closer when it was time. And then I saw him.
He was wearing a worn pair of jeans and a green and white checked flannel shirt. His auburn hair was just like I’d remembered. I could tell that he hadn’t shaven in a few days, but then again, I always did like him a little scruffy.
I took a deep breath and a step forward before tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around, the shock written all over his face; our plan had worked.
“What are you doing here?” he asked while reaching out for a hug.
“I came in early to surprise you,” I replied with a smile.
He looked over to Mom, who explained everything while Brendan and I stood in an embrace.
“And even though it was part of the façade, you’re welcome to come have dinner with us,” she said.
“Of course, yeah!” His brown eyes were sparkling.
We climbed in the back seat together, and I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. His familiar scent of cigarettes, Zippo lighter fluid and Grandma’s iced tea filled my nose, and I inhaled it, not wanting to ever forget how he smelled.
“Do you like your surprise?” I whispered without lifting my head.
“I do, very much,” he whispered back.
The weekend went by much too quickly, and it was Sunday afternoon before I knew it. There were only twenty-four hours left before I had to get back to school, and I wanted to spend as much time with Brendan as possible. We decided to take advantage of the crisp but sunny fall day and walk to the same playground where we’d shared our first kiss.
“I just want you to know that I still plan to carry out my idea,” I told hi
m as he pushed me on the swing.
“Your idea?”
“Yeah, about me transferring schools at Christmas time, remember? I’m still planning to do that.”
“Oh, that’s right. I kind of forgot about that,” he confessed.
I dragged my feet along the ground to stop myself, angry at his words. “What do you mean you forgot about it? Don’t you think that’s a big deal?”
He squatted in front of me so that we were eye-to-eye. “Baby, don’t be upset. Of course I think it is a big deal. I know that you’ve always wanted to go to Anderson.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up out of the seat. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking of getting a job and trying to move out of Mom and Dad’s. There’s been other stuff on my mind, that’s all.” He dropped his brown eyes and looked at me through his bottom lashes. “Do you forgive me?”
I didn’t want to; I wanted to stay angry with him, but I couldn’t. That piece of me that always had faith refused to die yet again. I felt myself believing his words were true. That he was going to work at finding a job so that we could be a proper couple, like others that I’d always read about. I hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
“Yes.”
It wasn’t just that I did not want to leave Brendan; it was more than that. Even getting back into the swing of things once I went back to college was harder. I found myself thinking about him all the time. It didn’t matter if I were in class, trying to study or eating with friends; he was all I could think about.
Most days, I would go back to my room after class and turn on Mariah Carey’s Just to Hold you Once Again, alternating between tears of happy memories and the pain of being apart. The confusion that enveloped me was astounding. I loved him, I was certain, yet the clouds of doubt were always there. My head and heart were in a constant, exhaustive battle between what I wanted and what I knew was best.
My roommate tried to be patient with me, but I knew I was making her life difficult. I moped around our room, and I wasn’t a very good friend to her. My relationship with Brendan affected every part of my life.
Still, I had to focus on school. The semester was quickly coming to a close, and I had exams to think about. Regardless of whether I was going back to Anderson, the need to be a good student and try my best at academia urged me forward. I charged headlong into finals week.
The night before Donny and I were set to head home for our month-long Christmas break, Mom called. I could tell immediately that it was not going to be a typical “make sure you don’t forget anything” phone call. Her tone was different.
“Honey, something is really wrong here, and I wanted you to be prepared when you get home.”
I reminded myself to keep breathing as my mom told me about a phone call she’d received. It was from a lady named Damia, and she was claiming to be pregnant with Brendan’s baby.
“Well, that answers my first question,” I quipped. “I just wanted to make sure it was a female.”
On the drive the next day, I sat in silence as the miles passed. Finally Donny cleared his throat and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“Do you know any details?” I asked.
“Not really, just her name.”
I fell into silence again.
Donny and I pulled into our parent’s driveway in Toledo a few hours later. Without helping to unload the bags, I went to the front door. It was all I could do to just hang my head and cry in my mother’s arms. I had so many questions, but I was too exhausted to think right then. On the drive home, I had swung from one thought to the next, my emotions running wild. I would find myself angry one moment and on the verge of tears the next. I had come to one realization, though: I wanted to talk to Damia.
I pulled away from my mom’s shoulder. I could see my own hurt in reflected in her eyes as they locked with mine. She placed her hands on either side of my face.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
The tears continued as I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m so confused. I would like to talk with her, though.”
Mom used her thumb to wipe a tear from my cheek. “She’s supposed to be calling soon. If you decide that you want to talk in person, I’ll drive you over.”
When the phone rang, we all knew who it was. The tension in the air was heavy as my family waited for me to get off the phone. Damia and I decided that we would meet face-to-face so we could talk things out. I was prepared to leave with my mom right away, but the phone rang again immediately after I hung it up.
It was Brendan.
“Baby! You’re home!”
I did not have the energy to speak with him. I was worn out from the trip and mentally spent from all the thinking and crying I’d done in the previous twenty-four hours. I tried to pull some energy from his excitement, but I was so upset with him, it didn’t work.
“Yeah, we just got here about ten minutes ago. How are you?” I asked him.
“I’m good; even better now that I know I can see your beautiful face. Can I come over?”
That was all it took. My anger, usually so under control, bubbled over until I spouted, “You know what? Just stop! Quit calling me baby, and quit telling me I’m beautiful. I’ve had it!”
“But, baby—“
“Just stop, Brendan! I’m about to leave the house, and do you know why? Because I’m going to meet Damia! So what do you think about that?”
There was total silence on the other end of the phone. He was quiet enough, in fact, that for a few moments I thought he’d hung up. Then I heard him sigh.
Other than that, he didn’t respond. I took a few seconds to compose myself before starting again, much more calm this time.
“I’m sure it surprises you that I even know about her, doesn’t it?”
“I am a bit shocked,” he confessed. “How…?”
“She called my mom. Told her everything, apparently.”
“Great, that’s just great.” He was the angry one now. “And you want to meet her?”
“Yes, I do. Don’t you feel that I have the right, Brendan? To meet the woman who is going to tear us apart?”
He sighed again before making a request. “I want to come. If you’re going to meet her in person, I would like to be there. I think I have that right. Besides, I’m not sure we can trust her.”
Trust. It seemed like such a foreign concept to me.
“Imagine that, someone we can’t trust.” Sarcasm dripped from my words. “All right, then. I’ll wait for you to get here.”
I hung up and turned to my mother. “You don’t need to drive me over. Brendan is picking me up.”
Mom frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Do you think she’ll tell you the truth? Do you think Brendan will be honest?”
I sighed. “I’ll be fine, Mom.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive over, too?” she persisted.
“No, thanks. I’m sorry you had to get involved in this, but we can handle it.”
To say Damia was not what I expected was an understatement. She was just as overweight as I was, but a couple of inches taller, with wildly curly hair. In the darkness of the post-sunset winter’s night, I couldn’t tell if it was red or brown.
“Hi, Damia. It’s nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand right to shake hers.
“You, too,” she replied before she turned to look at Brendan. “Hey.” She spoke with no inflection in her voice.
“What’s up?” His response to her was even more flat.
She rubbed her stomach, obviously wanting the conversation to turn toward the pregnancy.
“Oh you know, not much.” The sneer on her lips was directed completely at Brendan, and I got the first inclination that she was, indeed, trying to pin something on him that might not be true.
I cleared my throat and she looked back at me, the smirk fading a bit.
“So how is the pregnancy going?” I asked.
“It’s going well. I’m only about four months along, which is w
hy you can’t even tell I’m pregnant.”
I did some quick math in my head. If she’d been pregnant for about four months, they would have had sex back in August. Maybe even right after I’d left for college. Or, with Brendan’s track record, probably even before. It would have been so easy for me to allow my emotions to take over right then. For now, though, I had to keep my cool. There was too much at stake to lose it in front of these two.
“I see,” I nodded. “And I just have to ask, how many times did you sleep with my boyfriend exactly?”
“Hm, let’s see.” She again turned toward Brendan. “How many times would you say it was?”
Brendan did not say a word. He just glared at her with more hatred than I’d ever seen him convey.
With a nervous little giggle, Damia tossed back her crazy hair. “Well you know, it only takes once.”
I’ve never been one for violence, but she was really starting to push her luck. I tightened my grip on Brendan’s hand and kept a smile on my face. “You’re right, it does.”
“I need to get home. It’s been a very long day for me, as I’m sure you can imagine,” I explained.
“I sure can. I mean, to have all this sprung on you right before Christmas,” she sighed with so much sugar-coating, I almost gagged.
“Yes, well, we’ll be in touch won’t we, babe?” I said to Brendan.
“Yep.”
“Oh, okay then, good night,” she said as we headed down the steps to the car.
Although I was angry, I was also quite serene about the whole thing. The contrast of what we were talking about and the composure I kept did not escape my consciousness. I should have felt more ill at ease asking those questions but I hadn’t. Perhaps Brendan’s adamant denial of ever having had sex with Damia was the cause.
“Are you okay?” Brendan asked me during the short ride back to my place.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I have a lot to think about, but I’m okay.”
He reached for my hand on the seat. “I promise, baby, I never slept with her.”
My scoff was a bit more audible than I wanted it to be.
Tough Love Page 11
