Enchanted and Desired (29 page)

It feels like the longest hour in the history of time, waiting to board. I am at war with myself the entire time, knowing that until I set foot on the plane and watch it taxi onto the runway, I still have time to change my mind, to try and repair the catastrophic damage I’ve caused. I find a corner to sit in, so as not to draw attention; silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I torture myself thinking about Simon – how is he feeling, what is he doing? Has he found someone to warm his bed for the night? I know that’s what he did when I slept with Colin. Things were so different back then, and the depth of feeling between us now is…was…so much more profound. I contemplate whether I will ever be able to see him again. If the baby looks like him, I will never be able to return to New York. If he was anyone else, maybe I could, but he’s not. Lily is married to Brandon, and Simon’s been his best friend since birth. If he found out that the baby was his, and that I kept it from him, he would never forgive me. And rightly so.

Should I just be selfish and tell him? He says he doesn’t want kids, but maybe it would be different with me? Maybe he would thank me in years to come for giving him something he didn’t even realize he wanted? My heart begins to quicken, a kernel of hope amongst my spiraling confusion. And then his words come flooding back to me.

“There will be NO children in the near future, if at all. Just let us be. We’re happy just the two of us.”

“NO, Zia. Cazzo fai madonna.
Non spaventarla.
”

“God’s high five to men the world over, every month. You girls think we get upset that you are crabby and teary for a few days, when it’s actually the opposite. We’re just so fucking relieved that we haven’t gotten you pregnant, that we will put up with any level of crazy!”

I feel the bile rising in my throat and make a mad dash to the restrooms. I barely reach it in time before watching the contents of my stomach spill over into a disgusting public toilet. I think I’ve hit rock-bottom. I really hope my life can’t get any worse than this. If I could curl into a ball and wait for death, I would. But the churning sickness in my stomach only serves to remind me that I’m not just responsible for me anymore. I need to do what’s right for my baby, for Simon’s baby. He or she is all I have left of him, and I will cherish that with every beat of my heart, with every breath that I take. I pull myself up off the floor, wash and freshen up, and then put my well-practiced mask firmly in place to get me through my flight.

When I arrive in Texas, I’m weary. I feel it in every bone of my body, in every fiber of my being. I switch my phone on long enough to check Google for a good hotel in the area. I hail a cab and make my way to the local Hilton, upset that my phone had no messages, and that really is selfish. Once I’ve checked in and gotten my key card, I make my way up to my modest room. As I open the door it hits me just how different this is from my time spent with Simon in Italy. We were surrounded by beauty, and love, and laughter. Now I am alone, pregnant, and broken-hearted. I let the full impact of what I’ve done sink in; crawling up onto the bed, using all my energy to pull back the crisp white sheets and then cocoon myself inside of them. I have never cried so much in my life. I stay in my room for a week, without setting foot outside the door. The only time I leave the bed is to puke or to open the door for room service. My face is permanently red and puffy, my eyelids are almost swollen shut, my nose hurts from endless tissues and I have a constant headache from the sheer exertion of crying. It’s only after a week of this that I find the strength to drag myself into the shower, and take a good long look at myself in the mirror. I can see the small changes in my body, the slight swell of my normally flat stomach, and the fullness of my breasts. It’s then that I pull myself out of my pity party and make a plan.

I need a job, an apartment, and a life.

The night I left, I sent Lily a text telling her that I would be travelling for a while and not to worry. She was still on her honeymoon and I didn’t want to worry her, or ruin it for her. As soon as she got back and found out from Simon what had happened between us, she inundated me with phone calls, texts, and countless voicemails begging me to contact her. When she found the note in my apartment, she left me a message sobbing her heart out, asking for me to come back and sort things out. I haven’t been able to call her back. It’s too painful, and still too raw. If I heard her voice right now I would confess everything and she would have me back in New York before I could blink. But I can’t ignore her, she’s my best friend, so I’ve taken to short emails, letting her know that I’m doing okay, and that I’ve made a friend here who keeps me sane with her brand of insanity. Her name is Sarah. She works at the bar I’ve been working at since I arrived. She’s really nice and she knows a little of my situation, but never judges me for it.

I don’t know why I chose Texas – maybe because Lily grew up here before she moved to New York…or maybe because it was the next flight out after Delaware! I feel like I still have a part of my best friend with me as I take in the sights and smells of the city, wondering what her life was like here with her Dad.

She always replies to my emails within ten minutes of receiving them, always signing off with the same heartfelt plea –
please come home Jester. I miss you and I love you.
It makes me cry every time. It doesn’t help that my hormones are all over the place.

I’m three months along and the pregnancy is going well. I’m eating healthily, nurturing our baby growing inside me in any way I can. I’ve found a nice local doctor who’s been monitoring the progress of me and the baby, giving me regular check-ups and my first ultrasound. Seeing the baby for the first time on the monitor was unbelievably emotional; being able to see what Simon and I created together. I feel so close to him when I lay my hand on the almost imperceptible bump of my stomach. I find myself lying like that for hours at a time, remembering his touch, his voice, the way he loved me with everything he had. It’s gotten easier to do that. At first I was so distraught I couldn’t hold on to the memories for any length of time. I was worried I was forgetting everything, except the hole in my chest where my heart used to be; the heart I left in New York, with
him
. Not thinking about him was worse than thinking about him, so eventually I let myself feel, let myself remember, and now those quiet moments are what I cherish most.

I have a cute little one bedroom apartment close to the bar. It’s not a palace by any stretch of the imagination, but it has everything I need. The town is small, and everybody knows everybody. I grew up knowing that these sort of towns existed, with populations barely reaching into the thousands, but this is the first time I’ve actually experienced it. It’s comforting to be taken in and accepted by everyone, especially when you’re on your own and trying to make a home for yourself. My co-workers are great, Sarah and I are usually on shift together so we have some laughs to pass the time. We’ve become quite the team now, and the regulars love our crazy banter. Sarah helped train me, teaching me how to pull the perfect beer, how to make cocktails, and pretty much everything else that comes with the job. Having never worked a bar before, I am so grateful that they took a chance on me. I’m a pretty quick study too, so I had it all down pat in less than a week.

My manager Hank is an eternal flirt, quite a bit older, and he’s super protective of me and my bump. Gladly I’m not really showing yet, but I thought it best to tell him straight off the bat. He’s like my own personal bouncer. Whenever a customer gets a bit overly friendly, or the place gets a bit rowdy, he’s there in a heartbeat, watching over me, looking out for me. He’s become like a brother to me in the few weeks I’ve known him.

When I’m not working, I’m reading up on pregnancy, the do’s and don’ts, and what to expect when it comes to the birth. It’s sad reading about the things you and ‘your partner’ can do together, knowing that I will have to face the biggest moment of my life alone. It terrifies me. It makes me want to run back to Simon, beg for his forgiveness and confess the real reason I left. But every time I find myself staring at his number on my cell, I remind myself WHY I did what I did. I wanted him to have the life he wants, the life he deserves. Kids were never part of his plan, and I couldn’t corner him and force it on him. I tried that with Gavin and look how that turned out. Two days after Gavin found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t pregnant anymore…just the way he wanted it.

I lie awake at nights thinking about that baby. What it would have looked like, whether it would have been a boy or a girl, would it have looked like me? Questions I will never know the answer to. I was young and naïve, and not strong enough to stand up for what I wanted. I wasn’t ready to be a mom, but I would have worked it out; I would have done my very best to be a great mom for my baby, but I never got the chance. That’s why I just couldn’t terminate this pregnancy. I never planned to have kids, especially after what happened with Gavin, but as soon as I knew that a life was growing inside me, a life that Simon and I created together, in love, I felt like a mom with every fiber of my being.

The hardest thing I have ever done, was walking away from Simon. Any of life’s trials that may come my way from this point on will never be as brutal as that moment. I would take a thousand beatings from Gavin before I would want to relive telling Simon I didn’t love him. I needed for him to believe me, but at the same time, I wanted to scream at him –
HOW COULD YOU DOUBT MY LOVE FOR YOU, EVEN FOR A SECOND?!!!
It’s something I’ve struggled with every night as I lay my head down on my pillow, next to an empty space, where
he
belongs. Every night is the same, falling asleep with tears running down my cheeks, letting myself remember his touch, his smell, and the way I felt when I was in his arms, warm, safe and content.

SIMON

“This has got to fucking stop…now.”

“You don’t have to shout Brandon. For fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not fucking shouting. You’re just so hung over that a fucking fly would sound loud to you right now.”

I open my eyes and take in my surroundings. Shit. I completely trashed my office last night and then slept on the goddamn couch. Could I be any more fucking pathetic?

“Come on. You’re coming back to my place.”

“You don’t have to do that man.”

“Well apparently I do. You don’t seem to be getting your shit together by yourself, so hurry the fuck up and let’s go.”

“I need to clean this place up first.”

“No you don’t. I’ve already organized for one of the staff to do it, and I’ve offered them double pay to keep it quiet.”

My body sags, exhausted from trying to deal with everything alone for the past month. “Okay. Thanks Brandon.” I follow him out, a living breathing zombie. A shadow of my former self.

His car is parked out front and I literally crawl into the back of the big SUV, passing out as soon as my face hits the cool black leather of the seats. It must only be a ten minute drive to Brandon and Lily’s apartment from the club, but I’m jolted awake by the door opening and the sun streaming in.

“Fuck.”

I stumble into their building, Brandon holding me up in the elevator to stop me from collapsing under the weight of my own body. When the door swings open, I’m greeted with the sight of Lily pacing the floor, worry etched on her stunning features. She turns to see me, limp and pathetic at her husband’s side.

“Oh my God, Simon.” She rushes over and pulls me into a tight, heartfelt hug. “I’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay? Come and sit down. I’ll make you something to eat.”