Trials (Rock Bottom)

by Sarah Biermann

  We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment as he lets the words sink in. His eyes become teary and I furrow my brows at him. My dad is not emotional. At all.

  “I know,” he begins, pausing when his voice catches. “I know I’m not your real father. But I am your father. And I don’t want to see you like this ever again. Whatever it is that’s troubling you, I want you to know, I’ll support your decision as long as it makes you happy.”

  “Daddy…” I whisper. I throw my arms around him as I did when I was a little girl.

  The problem is, I still don’t know what’s going to make me happy. At this point, I’m not really sure that I have the final say in any decision. Scott’s left and Jeremy is, at this moment, still in jail. There’s still a chance that they may not accept the evidence, or that he’ll have to stand trial anyway even with the new evidence. My stomach tightens and I have to concentrate not to vomit.

  My dad’s words comfort me to the point where I can get him to the airport and say goodbye, promising to see him soon. By the time I get back home again, it’s already six o’clock. I have yet to hear from either Scott or Rich.

  I wake up the next morning expecting to hear some news about Jeremy. I’m also hoping Scott will at least call, if not come home. The only time the phone rings is when my father calls to tell me he made it in okay yesterday and is taking it easy at home. Otherwise, I hear nothing. I try not to bother Scott, assuming he needs the space. I know Rich will call me when he finds out anything. I mope around all day, sick with worry and stress, and tell myself I’ll hear something tomorrow.

  When I wake up the next morning, I immediately check my phone and see that there are no missed calls or messages.

  What the hell?

  I can’t take any more of this. I’m going to lose my mind and all of my body weight from not eating and getting sick.

  I text Scott.

  Me: Do u want to talk?

  A few minutes go by and he doesn’t answer. I will myself to get out of bed and shower, telling myself that I’ll feel better once I’m clean and dressed. When I get out of the shower, there’s still no answer from him.

  I’m assuming he’s at his old place, which he still owns. I’m about to make my way over there to confront him in person when my phone buzzes.

  Scott: Yes. I think it’s time to talk. Can I come over sometime on Saturday?

  Saturday? It’s only Wednesday. Saturday is days away. I wonder if he’s torturing me on purpose because he thinks I don’t care and wants me to suffer.

  Me: If that’s the earliest u can come. I guess…

  I put the phone down hard on the kitchen counter, angry that he’s playing this game with me. I decide not to look at anymore of his text messages until I’ve calmed down. But the phone buzzes a few minutes later and I just can’t help myself. I grab the phone, expecting to see either something snarky or an apology from Scott.

  But I freeze when I see the name on the screen. The message is from Rich.

  I unlock my phone as quickly as possible and read his short message. Then I read it five more times to make sure I’ve understood it correctly.

  Rich: He’s home. They let him go. The news hasn’t broke yet, but I thought you should know.

  He’s home? That’s it? Just like that? I clasp my chest and place the phone down on the counter. I feel dizzy with the release of a major stressor that’s been weighing on me. I sit down on the floor of my kitchen.

  Oh my God. He’s home.

  I immediately question what I’m going to do when he calls me. I’m sure his call is coming any minute. What will I say? Will he beg me to come to him? Will he have to beg me to come? Will I wait until my conversation with Scott?

  I turn around and stare at my phone, wondering when it will ring. I stare at it for a few minutes before I decide to do something else to take my mind off of it. I watch TV. I do laundry. I clean my house. Still, no call. No text.

  Wednesday turns into Thursday, and Thursday into Friday. The only thing that has changedis that I’m running out of things to keep my mind occupied and the news story of Jeremy’s release broke on every major news station. I got two calls, which both almost gave me a heart attack. But they were both from my dad and Theresa, asking me if I had heard the news and how much I knew. I didn’t tell them much. I’m sick of thinking about it and talking about it. Theresa told me she had heard that since he turned himself in and formal charges had yet to be filed, the court let him go instead of making him wait for a trial.

  I heard from the news that Evangeline Carter had been known to use drugs socially by her friends when she was a sophomore and junior, but that late in her junior year she had found God and had quit using. I guess the disease held her tighter than anyone knew. Not many addicts can face a needle and a bag of heroin and win.

  It’s now only a few short hours until my conversation with Scott. That makes my stomach tumble and cramp. I’m also upset over Jeremy not calling. What does that mean? Was everything he said to me bullshit? Was he just sentimental because he thought he was going to be locked up for a very long time?

  I know I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight again, and I throw up relentlessly all day. I’m considering calling the doctor because I’ve been so sick and loosing so much weight, but I decide to see what the conversation with Scott will bring. Maybe it will relieve some stress, one way or another, and I’ll be able to get well again and move on. Because my track record with moving on has been so good in the past.

  After leaving an emergency meeting with Dr. Spritz on Saturday morning, I’m feeling a little more confident about handling the upcoming conversation with Scott and the apparent rejection from Jeremy. I try to repeat the mantra that, “I am not defined by my relationships,” and that, “I’m whole as a person.” But when I enter my house and immediately run to the bathroom to vomit, I think that it’s probably not the way I actually feel.

  I’m lying on the bathroom floor, my head on my arm, when I hear footsteps in the hallway. Before I can react, the footsteps stop in front of the bathroom.

  “Dylan, are you alright?” I hear Scott calling through the bathroom door.

  Great, just great. As if I’m not stressed enough.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I call as I peel myself off the cold floor and flush the toilet. I quickly brush my teeth and walk towards the kitchen. I see Scott waiting for me as I enter, his arms crossed.

  “You really need to go to the doctor. You’ve been sick for a while now.”

  I nod to appease him. I can’t very well explain that I’ve been so sick with stress and worry. No doctor is going to fix that.

  We’re silent for a moment before he whispers. “Listen, we need to talk.”

  Alright, here it is.

  Scott steps backwards to lean against the kitchen counter. I take him in again. He’s so tall and handsome and muscular. He looks so mature in his suit and tie. Sometimes I wonder what is wrong with me. I should know he’s better for me. I should want comfort and stability. I should want simple.

  But I never pretended to be anything but complicated. And I don’t really believe opposites attract.

  He sighs heavily, his shoulders slouching in defeat. I hold my breath, preparing for his heartbreaking speech. “Dylan, I don’t think…I don’t know…” He begins, struggling to find the words.

  A tear escapes my eye and falls down my cheek. I feel his pain, as if it’s vibrating across the air between us in waves and hitting me in the chest. There was a time, a very real time and not so long ago, when I truly believed I was in love with him and that things could work. I admit some of those feelings still linger, but I know I will never love anyone the way I love Jeremy.

  “Sometimes,” I whisper, my head down. “Sometimes, when things get hard and they often are, I wish that I had never gone to that concert. I wish I would have met you first. Because I think we really would have been happy.”

  I peer up from under my eyes at him. I catch a small tear falling from
his beautiful face. “Me too.”

  Suddenly, my cell phone rings. The song and the loud, buzzing noise keeps us quiet until it silences. Just as I’m about to speak again, the message tone sounds. I dig my phone out of my pocket and look at the message.

  “It’s Theresa,” I explain to Scott. “She said I should call her. That she has something to tell me.”

  He nods. “Call her really quick if you want. I’ll wait.”

  I feel ridiculous making him wait to talk about something as important as our conversation, but Theresa hasn’t called in a long time. And for some reason I feel like her text was serious.

  I bite my lip and hit the “call back” button on my phone, placing it to my ear. It rings twice before she picks up. “Hey, Dylan,” she says. I’m grateful she doesn’t sound upset.

  “What’s up, Theresa? Are you okay?”

  “Yes…” she says, skeptically. She must hear the stress in my voice. “I can call back later if you want…”

  “No, that’s okay. Just tell me really quick.” I look out of the corner of my eye and see Scott staring at me sadly.

  “Alright,” she says, cheerily. “I just wanted to tell you now that I’ve hit three months, I’m pregnant!”

  I smile as wide as I can manage. “That’s great, Theresa. Really great.”

  “Thanks!” she says. “I actually can’t believe you didn’t notice! I feel like a house already. I had to wear oversized sweaters so no one would see my belly. Like that ridiculous dress I wore at the charity dinner. And I’ve been so sick. Throwing up just all the time. Since almost the day I missed my period!”

  She continues talking but her words turn into a mumble in the background of my mind as I process her words.

  Sick? Throwing up all the time?

  Missed period?

  I quickly do a mental calculation in my head.

  No, wait. Really? No, that can’t be…

  I think I missed my last period three weeks ago. How could I not have noticed that?

  I hear my phone clatter to the floor. Scott’s arms are on my shoulders immediately. “Dylan, what’s wrong? Are you alright? Sit down, all the color is leaving your face,” he says, trying to pull me towards the kitchen table.

  “No,” I mumble out. “I think…I think I’m going to be sick!” I wiggle out from his grasp and run to the bathroom as fast as I can, just making it to the toilet in time. I lay my head on the toilet when I’m through, trying to get my thoughts together.

  Oh my God.

  Scott and I had always been careful. More than careful. The only person I hadn’t been careful with is…

  Jeremy.

  I feel my hands go around my stomach as a myriad of emotions flood through me. I find myself, almost instinctually, lovingly rubbing my skin over my abdomen. My heart races, not with panic, but with…excitement.

  I’m going to have Jeremy’s baby? I smile a wide, bright smile right there in the middle of the floor of my bathroom. And in that, I know I have my answer. I know what I need to do, and for the first time, I don’t allow myself to feel bad about it.

  After a few minutes I exit the bathroom. I see Scott standing at the edge of the hallway, concern covering his face. “Dylan? Are you alright?”

  My mouth hangs open. “I think…I think I’m pregnant,” I say in awe. Probably not the most eloquent way to tell him, but I can’t think straight right now. I’m lucky I can speak English at all.

  I watch shock, confusion, and awe fly across Scott’s face before I realize what he must be thinking. He moves a step closer to me. “Wow, baby. Well, that changes things,” he says, with a devastatingly sweet smile. “I’m, actually…so happy. I…” he pauses, still smiling. I inwardly kick myself. I will never forgive myself for what I’m about to do to him.

  “Scott…you know it’s not yours,” I whisper. I hear a pop of air as Scott exhales in surprise. I’m such a coward; I can’t even bring myself to look at his face. But the only thing that matters to me right now is the little life inside of me, and what both it and I deserve out of life. And that’s to be happy with a family who are desperately all in love with each other.

  “We’ve been nothing but careful. Always, Scott. I’m so sorry.”

  I hear Scott’s body hitting the wall of the hallway. I look up and see him with his back against it, doubled over. “God, Dylan,” he mumbles, his voice pained. “Oh my God. With him?”

  I walk over, intending to comfort him, but stop just as I reach him. “Scott, I’m sorry. It was one time. I wish I could tell you it was a mistake, but I love him. Sometimes I don’t want to, but the truth is, I have since the moment I saw him. And I never stopped loving him. I never really got my heart back from him. It wasn’t fair of me to give it to you when I never had it to give.”

  Scott’s shaking his head back and forth, as if in disbelief. “No,” he says. “It’s my fault.”

  I furrow my eyebrows at him. “How do you figure it’s your fault?”

  He stands up straighter, taking a deep breath before looking at me. “Because I convinced you to leave him, Dylan. And then I manipulated you into being with me.”

  I try to protest but he stops me. “No, wait. I know you are stronger minded than to let me purposely manipulate you. But I still did in some ways. You were nothing but up front with me the whole time. I knew you loved him and I knew you needed closure that you never got. I didn’t let you mourn and move on before we started our relationship. I just hoped that I’d be enough for you to forget him. I thought if I was perfect and supportive and constantly loving, it would make you forget him.”

  I nod my head. “You were, Scott. You really were.”

  He gives me a sad smile. “Thank you. But I know love doesn’t always work that way. I can’t force you to love me, Dylan. And I don’t really want to try. I deserve better than that.”

  I smile at him. “You really do.” I silently pray that he will one day find someone who will love him as much as he deserves. Because he truly is an amazing man.

  He walks over to me and wraps me in a huge hug. “No hard feelings, baby. I will forever love you. I’m sure you know how that feels.”

  I wrap my hands around his back and shed a few tears. I cry for what could have been and maybe what should have been. I mourn the loss of a very beautiful, easy, and acceptable life. “I do. And I do love you, Scott. Just, not enough.”

  He kisses me on the head. “I hope for your sake, if you are pregnant, he’ll treat the baby better than he’s treated you.”

  I nod into his shoulder.

  “Always call me if you have a problem, understand? No matter what, okay?”

  Pain rips through my chest. Stop being so nice when I’m such an asshole.

  “I will.”

  I know this will be one of the hardest choices I’ll ever have to make. I’m not leaving Scott because he’s bad to me. I’m not leaving because I’m unhappy with him. I’m leaving one good man for another good man. They just happen to be different men, and I just happened to have been forced to choose.

  Now that my choice has been made, I just hope it isn’t the wrong one. I release Scott’s waist and place my hands, once again, lovingly around my stomach.

  Chapter 14- My Decision

  I can’t believe I’m here.

  I’ve been pacing back on forth on the sidewalk down a few doors from Jeremy’s house for twenty minutes now. I flick the stick in my hand up and down nervously. I check the strip, again, for at least the hundredth time.

  Still positive. Still pregnant.

  I think about where I was only a short time ago, in my bathroom with Theresa waiting for the test to develop. When she told me there was a plus sign in the box, I nearly died with shock. In the back of my mind, of course I had known I was pregnant. But damn it if it didn’t become achingly real in that moment.

  I left almost immediately, despite Theresa telling me to sit and ‘think about things’ before I did anything irrational. I didn’t care about rationali
ty. How could I when I’m already in an irrational situation? I just knew I needed to be near Jeremy. I knew I needed to tell him.

  Of course, now that I’m here, I have no idea how to do that. For a lawyer, I haven’t been great with words lately. And I wish I knew what his reaction will be, but I really don’t. He’s been out for a week now and hasn’t tried to contact me at all. Maybe he got sick of my mind and heart games. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame him.

  I close my eyes and let the memories of our relationship flash in my mind, from the moment we met to the last time I saw him. I relive it. All of it. The passion, the pain, the pleasure. When you take a step back and look at all of it combined, it really is beautiful. We are beautiful.

  I smile and begin walking towards his home. I will myself not to throw up as I walk up the stairway and to his door. The baby is making me nauseous all the time, but I’m sure this stress isn’t helping.

  I push the doorbell before I get a chance to chicken out again and step away from the door. I hear footsteps approaching from inside and the sound of the door creaking open. Then he appears from behind it, his blue eyes examining me. He eyes me up and down, still sensual even when not trying.

  He bites his lip and looks towards the ground, running his hand through his tousled hair. He sighs heavily and directs his gaze back to me, leaning himself against the doorway. “Dylan,” he says. I smile at his familiar greeting.

  “You haven’t called,” I whisper, unsure of where to begin.

  He pauses. “Were you expecting me to?”

  I shrug. “A little.”

  He sighs and shifts his weight. “Dylan, I don’t want to chase you. I told you, Scott is a good man. He’ll give you everything you deserve. I’m still responsible, in part, for that girl’s death…whether or not the law says so. And I’ve been nothing but a selfish ass to you and now, I’m nothing in general. My career is over. The label isn’t taking me back. I’m just…a no one. A loser.”