(no subject)
"It is good to feel lost, because it proves you have a navigational sense of where 'Home' is. You know that a place that feels like being found exists. And maybe your current location isn't that place but, Hallelujah, that unsettled, uneasy feeling of lost-ness just brought you closer to it."
On the first of the month, it was time to pay rent. All this time I had felt security, as Nick assured me again and again that the investors had paid him and we had several thousand dollars in the bank. But, no. They had not paid. We had no money. The panic, the anger, it all sets in. In my fury, in my desperation, I arrive home from school and sit on the edge of the bed near Nick.
"I don't think we should be together anymore. I don't think we should keep the baby. You lied to me. We're going to lose everything. We won't even have a home to share together anymore." The crying, the heartbreak, it all sets in. "I don't want to say this shit! This isn't what I want! I want you, I want the baby! I just don't know what to do anymore or how to make it work."
My twisted mix of hurt and resentment causes other things to spill out, too. Hurtful things just for the sake of hurting.
He has his aunt wire him 1,000 dollars. He hands it all over to me.
"I owe you this, it's yours. I start a new job tomorrow."
I try to backtrack.
"We can use this to catch up our bills. If you are going to start working, we can salvage everything."
But it's too late. Damage done.
The next few hours are yelling, crying, begging, pleading, name calling, finger pointing. I sit in the kitchen and sob and snot and slobber everywhere. I do this until I puke. Nick packs some things. He tells me he this isn't going to work. He tells me this is over. He tells me he's leaving. He tells me he'll be back later and maybe we can talk.
But days, they pass. He doesn't come back. We don't talk. We don't see each other. I'm in a fog. The first night without him, I sleep on the couch. The first full day without him, I don't move from the couch. The second night without him, I contemplate dying. I cry-- a lot. I push the couch in front of the door so no one can get in. I tell some people goodbye without any explanation, and then I stop responding to everyone. My dad catches wind of what's going on and shows up at my apartment. He beats on the door and threatens me with the police until I finally move the couch and let him in. He talks me down. He takes me home with him. I cry myself to sleep. The second day without Nick, I stay on a couch in the sitting room and stare at the wall for hours. I don't move. I don't eat. I am blank. My dad comes home from work and urges me to get up, to do something. So, I move into the living room where my dad and his girlfriend are, and stare into space with them instead. The third night without Nick, I wander aimlessly around my dad's silent house, trying to find some form of distraction. I still have yet to respond to any of my friends, because I feel like I just have nothing to say. Eventually, I cry myself to sleep. On the third day without Nick, I try to do something other than stare at the wall, so instead I sit on the bed and stare at the mattress. I call my mom. I ask her why anyone won't let me die. She tells me to come over. I drive out to my mom's for distraction. That night, I get a call from Nick. He tells me he has nothing to say to me. He doesn't want to see me or speak to me. He wants me out of his life. He's done. He tells me he doesn't want the baby and that if I keep it I am only doing it to try and get him back, and that's "fucked up." I sit on a park bench in the freezing cold and listen, and sob. The fourth night without him, I decide to change everything. If I'm so negative, if I ruined us, then I'll now use my power of positive thinking to salvage us. On this night, I laugh. I play board games with my family and giggle at my baby brother's anger over the fact that I beat him several times in a row at Connect Four. For the first time in days, I eat. For the first time in nights, I fall asleep without crying. On the fourth day without Nick, I feel alright. A bit numb, but alright. I go to my stepdad's family reunion, and again, I eat. I smile. That night, I help my family pick out a Christmas tree. That night, Nick texts me and says he'll meet me at our apartment to talk.
When I get to the apartment a while later, Nick's already been there for a bit. He's asleep on the couch. I sit by his head and stroke his hair. I cry quietly to myself-- just a few tears. He opens his eyes, he looks at me. He doesn't tell me to fuck off like I'm expecting. He slides his head closer to my lap and continues to allow me to rub his head. Eventually, I kiss his forehead. Eventually, he slides over on the couch and lifts up the blanket and asks if I'd like to lay down with him. I slide in, and he pulls me close. We hold each other until we fall asleep. When we wake, we watch TV. We kiss. We have sex. We still don't talk. When we go to bed that night, he holds me close. He says he loves me. He kisses my forehead. We still don't talk. In the morning, I leave for class. He kisses me goodbye. When I return, he's still asleep. I curl up next to him for a bit.
But eventually, he wakes, and the whole tune changes. He's distant. He seems irritated. I try to talk to him, but one way or another, this leads to a blowup. He ends up punching the walls. He ends up kicking the hamper. He ends up yelling in a tortured voice.
"I don't want this. I don't want to be with you. I don't want to have a baby with you. I don't want to be stuck with you. I should have never came here. I didn't even really want to come here. I have nothing to fucking say to you! Why are you keeping the baby? Why are you doing this to me?"
Taken by surprise, I just sit on the couch, unresponsive. When he eventually seems calm enough, I speak.
"There are other options. Just because I don't terminate the pregnancy doesn't mean that you're trapped. I'm trying to talk to you about these options, but I can't when you're like this." I give a long, long speech-- about how much I do love him and will always love him, regardless of what happens here. About how I'm not opting out of an abortion just to torture him. About how I have faith that, in time, we can repair our relationship. About how all I can do if remain positive and hope for the best, because continuing to let myself feel beaten down and defeated is only going to perpetuate the problems. I spill my heart. Calmly, quietly, sincerely.
When I finish, he's calm. He nods. I say we should leave, not see each other again that night. We can talk later. He nods again. He says, "I'll text you when I wake up. We can talk tomorrow." We stand to leave and gather our things, and he pulls me in for hug. We say we love each other. We apologize to each other. We tell each other to be safe, to eat, to "take care of yourself." He kisses me. Out by our cars, he kisses me again. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'll text you tonight."
I go to my dad's. I sit and feel confused, but I don't cry. I don't worry. I eat. I feel okay. Nick texts me to say goodnight and sweet dreams. I sleep.
Today is a new day. I wait for his call saying he's ready to meet up, but not over-anxiously. I feel patient and confident. I have to. I have to channel all my strength, all my positive energy. I have to make it through. I need to make it through. I will make it through. I just keep my fingers crossed for some consistency. The back-and-forth is tolling on my mental and emotional state. I keep my fingers crossed that when he sees me, he'll kiss me. I keep my fingers crossed that some day, we'll look at our baby and then smile at each other, and be so glad we are where we are. I keep my fingers crossed that some day, we'll look back at this and say, "That was the worst, but I'm so glad we made it through."