Tossing It Page 16

  “I’m sorry,” I say, manners dictating I should be presentable at any given time while in public. That’s the southern way, and I am breaking that custom all to pieces in this moment of weakness. “I need a second or two. It’s a lot. She looks so bad. That’s all.” My explanation must work because the nurse closes the door after she writes down notes on a thick file.

  “Mom,” I say. “I need you to hear me.” My throat clogs with emotion as I sit back down in the chair next to her bed. “I’m having a baby and I need you to be here for me. Like you used to be here for me.”

  Her eyes flutter, her mind in deep sleep. A spluttering, horrible sounding cough breaks the silence. “Because you owe that to me!” I yell. “I never had a chance,” I say, wincing. “It’s your fault. It’s all your fault! You got sick,” I say, losing my breath. “He left because you got sick. It’s all your fault!” My breaths are shallow now, my anger controlling my words. “Come back to me. Be here. For your grandbaby.”

  She doesn’t move. Doesn’t stir. Won’t wake up and be my mother. “He doesn’t want this baby, Mom. I’m going to do it by myself. I have to,” I say, tone calmer. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it. It’s going to break me.”

  The doctor comes back in and sees my red-rimmed eyes. “Visiting hours are different for sick patients, Malena. I have to ask you to leave. She needs her rest. We will take care of her. I promise.” The nurse must have sent him in, afraid of my apparent anger.

  The need to bargain with the doctor for her life arises, but I squash it. He can’t do anything more for her. No one can bring her back to life in the way I want. I thank the doctor for his time and flee Garden Breeze without a purpose, my mind a disaster. Do I tell Leif? How do I break up with him? There’s no possible way I’d ask him to stay with me because of the baby. No one should be presented with that kind of pressure when they don’t want a family. I think he may stay with me because of it, but that’s not the kind of forced love I want, and he deserves to have a life of his own choosing. The life he thought he was getting with me.

  I pull into a random parking lot and take out my phone. I fire off an email to Leif because I haven’t done it yet today and I have expectations to meet regardless of my mental state. Especially if I want to hide this secret for any length of time. I need time. More time. I try to sound happy and write about the nice weather and the job I’m currently working on. I hit send in a blind, manic rush. On a second thought, I write up another email and tell him that my mother has pneumonia and tell him to call me as soon as he can. This pregnancy will label me a liar. It breaks apart the foundation our love was built upon.

  The anger and terror slices deep, and I don’t know who to call or who I can trust. Shirley. Shaking my head, no, I realize I can’t talk to her or to Caroline about this. I need someone who is completely removed from my life. Someone who has no stakes in my failures or successes. Maybe it’s the bitter resentment, or that I’m grasping to find some sort of positive in this, but I know who I need and want to tell. With tears in my eyes, I pull up the internet browser on my phone and begin searching. It doesn’t take long to locate the information I need.

  The name and address stares at me from the screen like a dirty joke no one finds funny. This is what I have to do. I head for home to change and shower off the doctor’s office scent. Then I go to war.

  ______________

  I pull into the dusty side access road and park my car in one of the free spaces adjacent to the garage. Maybe it’s because I’m still shocked, but I have no problems pushing open the office door and walking directly up to the tattered desk covered in flyers reminding people to get their oil changed. It smells like grease. It’s a scent from my past. One that used to soothe my worries. How time changes things. Everything. “Where’s Dylan,” I ask, glaring at the bleached blonde receptionist with a swollen stomach. She ushers a little girl who can’t be more than two to the waiting room with a fenced in area. It has a few broken toys and an old-fashioned box television tuned in to a kid’s channel.

  “What do you need done?” she lilts, leaning around me to try to glimpse my car. “He’s finishing up a grease job, but can get to you next.” He got to you next, I think bitterly.

  I almost feel bad for her, but I can’t. Nope. Today is the day the world will feel my wrath after years of never getting a break. “I’m Dylan’s ex-wife. I need to speak to him about an important matter.”

  Her big blue eyes widen. A deer caught in headlights. She opens her mouth to respond but closes it again. “Let me get him,” she says, rounding the corner again to pick up the toddler and uses a side door to walk into the garage area.

  Closing my eyes, I breathe out. This could be my life, and the thought makes me want to be sick. Dylan comes through the door, eyes just as wide as the woman’s was. “Malena, what in the hell are you doing here?” He doesn’t say it in a mean way, he really is shocked and wondering what in the hell I’m doing here. I’d feel the same way if he popped into the General Store at any point in time that I was working there. Especially after all of these years of no contact.

  I feel absolutely nothing when I look at Dylan. I wait for it—the feelings I used to have for him, the feelings I have for Leif, and they don’t come. Nothing except a blind numbness and a huge heap of regret. I needed this more than I would have ever thought. Swallowing down the horror, I whisper. “I need to talk to you outside.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asks me. The blonde slides through the door but doesn’t put the girl down this time as she eyes me down suspiciously. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay?” he says, kissing the woman’s cheek. She looks pleased, victorious that she’s won this prize of a man. It’s laughable. Insane. Sad. I don’t say so though. I would never go that far.

  I lead him outside, to my car, and cross my legs at the ankle. “I’m fine,” I say, shielding my eyes against the sun. “I came here to tell you I’m pregnant.”

  The words spoken aloud feel freeing. “Pregnant,” I say again, pleased I’m able to say this word in his presence.

  “What?” Dylan narrows his eyes.

  “I’d say it was your fault we never got pregnant instead of mine, but it looks as if you’ve already started filling a minivan in there,” I point to the office. “So, I guess it was just you and me together that didn’t work. Thank God. Someone was looking out for me,” I say, shaking my head. “You were dreadful at the end, Dylan. And you need to know that’s not okay.” I cross my arms at my chest.

  He stares at my stomach like a gremlin is going to pop out and eat his face off. “Fuck, Malena. They said you couldn’t, that it was doubtful you could ever have a baby.” I remember the words. I lived by them. Our marriage died by them. “What was I supposed to do? You knew how much children meant to me.”

  I shrug. “They were obviously wrong. Or things changed. I just wanted you to know that I’m pregnant and I’m glad it’s not yours.” Why? Now I’m pregnant by a man that doesn’t want the baby. The juxtaposition of the two scenarios is laughable.

  “I loved you, Malena. Wanted this life with you,” he says quietly, motioning to the building with his first name emblazoned across the top in juvenile script. “More than anything in the world.” Dylan must be on autopilot, because he kneels in front of me, and hugs my waist, the side of his face pressed against my stomach. My car is behind me so I can’t back away. Too shocked to say anything, I freeze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t treat you right.”

  Swatting his hands and face away, I step to the side to juke his grasp, disgusted he’s apologizing now after everything we went through. “I was never enough for you,” I say, shaking my head. “I came here to…”

  “Let me know I was wrong,” he finishes, standing and backing away. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you. Both of you.” He takes another step away from me, his eyes shining with frustration and pain.

  It confuses me even further, muddies my emotions. Shaking my head, I get into
my car realizing what a lunatic I look like right now. How desperate for acceptance, that I’ve come to the one person who I thought would give it to me. “He gave it, Malena,” I whisper to myself. “You got what you came for.” I pull out of the spot and drive the fifty miles back to Bronze Bay with tears blurring my vision. I’m not even sure how I made it back home safely, forgetting the drive completely as I fall into my bed.

  I twist the gold band on my right ring finger, the beautiful gift Leif gave me when he left. It’s a reminder I don’t want or need, so I pull it off and toss it across the room. I lied to my mother earlier. I’m not by myself. Nope, I have my baby, and I need to pull my shit together if I’m going to give it a beautiful life. I’ll give myself a few days to be upset and then I will rally, regardless of what happens. The world is crumbling down around me in every single direction and without a lifeline, I’ll have to do the best I can.

  My cell phone rings from the dining room table. Finally. By the time alone, I know it’s Leif. I answer the video call. “Hi,” I say, my stomach tipping when I first glimpse his face. Love. Painstaking, soul-searing love.

  “Hey,” he says. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Malena. I got your email. She’s going to be okay. How are you holding up? I’m so sorry I’m not there with you.” His words are sincere, so full of truth that my lying soul singes in response.

  “She’s such a mess, Leif. You should hear her breathing. It rattles. Her cough,” I say, but get choked up. “I don’t want to upset you. I’m sure you have enough to worry about without adding this to your list.”

  “Malena, stop. Let’s try to talk about something happy. Brighten the mood a bit,” he says, face firm, no smile. “You know I don’t mind anything that has to do with you. That includes your mother.”

  “I just…miss you,” I say, crying. It’s not pretty, it’s jagged and steals my breath. “I wish you were here to hug me.”

  “I’d do a lot more than hug you if I were there,” he counters, his lips tipping up in the corner. “Time is flying by. I’ll be home before you know it.” I want to tell him right now. He can make plans to stay in San Diego where he’s happy and unhindered, but my pride won’t let me quite yet.

  “Listen, I wanted to call you to tell you I love you and that your mom is going to be okay. Eva emailed me today and told me I needed to call her as soon as I got her note and it’s late, and I want to give her a call and make sure everything is okay before it gets even later. I will call you tomorrow.” My heart sinks. “That’s fine. I love you too.”

  “Chin up,” he says. “Better yet, tits out.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not in the mood for that right now.”

  “Fine. Fine. Malena?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Look out the window.” I wander to the front door and open it up as far as it will go. The wind has picked up and it blows a sprinkling of rain around. “You’re my night sky, baby.” The stars shine bright, twinkling reminders of what I’ll never have. I think about where my ring lays, over in the corner of my bedroom.

  “Always,” I reply.

  “Goodbye, Malena,” Leif says, then ends the call.

  I stand outside, letting the little raindrops sting my skin like flying needles. The pain clears my foggy mind, and I subconsciously bring one hand to my stomach.

  Goodbye, Leif, I think.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Leif

  “Are you on your computer?” Eva asks. “I refuse to tell you anything until your sitting down and looking at your computer.”

  “Alright, alright. Don’t be such a bossy bitch.”

  She sighs. “You’re going to be eating those words in mere seconds,” she says, her tone strained. “Pull up your messenger. I need to send a few things,” Eva adds.

  Irritation is all I feel at having to cut my phone call short with Malena for whatever trivial bullshit Eva wants me to see. Her screenname is darkened signaling she’s sending something and an image pops up in our message on the secure server. I double click to open it.

  And lose my breath. It’s Malena, clear as day, as beautiful as I’ve ever seen, except there’s a man hugging her around her waist, kneeling on the ground. It’s obvious Eva took this photo while on some sister reconnaissance mission because of the angle and the distance. Another photo pops up on the screen and it’s an image of Malena and this asshole talking, their faces close, and emotion spilling into the air between them. My throat feels full as my heart begins to hammer. A blind red rage clouds my vision.

  “What the fuck Eva,” I say into my phone.

  Eva makes a little noise and I think it might be because she regrets what she needs to say, and that says something because Eva regrets nothing. “Celia called me to tell me about her mom being sick, Leif. You have to understand I didn’t plan on following her. She was pulling out of her road. I could see she was crying and I followed her because I was worried. Okay? It was about forty-five miles to some bum hick town in the middle of nowhere.”

  My heavy breathing is the only response I give her.

  “I parked across the street at a little gas station to fill up my car, assuming she was getting her car fixed or something because it was a mechanic shop. It seemed weird to drive that far away if her car was broken, but she came out right away, this guy behind her. They had this heated conversation and I…” Eva trails off. “Just knew something was between them. Body language and their facial features. Everything. It was intimate in nature even if Malena seemed upset.”

  I enlarge the photo and confirm everything she’s saying. It’s awkward, like I’m looking at someone else’s love story. “Who is he?” I ask, only because I know Eva wouldn’t come to me with just photos. She is a fucking FBI agent when it comes to shit like this. I think it’s why she gets on in Bronze Bay so well. “Dylan Bowers,” she says. “Leif.” “What?” I ask, running a hand through my hair as I remember the first time I met Ms. Winterset and she called me Dylan. “Stop beating around the bush. Just fucking say it out loud. What else do you know?”

  “They were married.”

  All the air leaves my lungs. Every moment between Malena and I tainted by a singular, nonnegotiable lie. “Married? Are you sure?”

  She sends another photo and it’s the marriage and the divorce certificate in one PDF image. “I’m positive,” she says after giving me a second or two to review the photo. “I asked around after I pulled the information online and I guess it was a huge scandal. They were high school sweethearts. The type of couple who everyone says was destined to be together. Word on the street is Dylan never got over Malena and he’s been trying to woo her back into his graces. Maybe with you being gone,” Eva stutters. “It’s a lot. The separation. I’m sure it’s a lot for most people to deal with. Maybe it was a weak moment, Leif. It could be nothing.”

  “Or it could be everything. Thank you, Eva. Even if you just ruined my fucking life.”

  She scoffs. “I’m just as surprised as you are. You guys were it. I’m done. I’ll leave her alone now. Okay?”

  Or do I have her follow her around like an insecure dog? That’s not me. It can’t be. It’s never been me. “I need a bit to sort things. I’ll talk to you later.”

  We end the phone call, but I continue staring at the computer screen and the images that tell a story I’m not a part of. His face. It’s almost more than I can bear witness to. This was a private moment never meant to see the light of day. I’d feel guilty if this didn’t change everything for me. I thought I meant more to her than this. I could get over the omission of the marriage and divorce, I think. With a ton of time and soul searching, but I’ll never get over these photos and whatever the fuck they mean. I want to kill him.

  It’s too late to call Malena so I do what she does every day. I write her an email and I tell her about the weather here in San Diego. My words convey a bland temperament of someone who is distancing themselves from a situation or person. Maybe that’s what she’s been doing over the cour
se of these two months. The emails formed as her easy way to get out of a relationship with me to be with him. A man who she used to call husband. Shared a bed with. Shared a life with. I close my eyes when the sting in my chest becomes unbearable.

  In the last paragraph, I ask her to explain herself and the photos. I also attach the marriage and divorce certificates and ask about those as well. I tell her what I think the photos mean in the most concise manner I can manage without hurling every single curse word in the English language. I tell her to confirm I’m right and to walk away if I am. What I don’t do is give her any indication of how these photos and her lie make me feel. I’m not giving her that power over me. The reason I feel like a gutter slum right now is because she had that power to begin with.

  I’m blindsided.

  “Time to go! Our leave request was approved, fucker. Let’s go eat tacos and drink beer!” Aidan roars from the other side of my bedroom door. An off night. A rare pleasure. I pause for a moment or two wondering if I’m approaching this in the correct manner before hitting the send button. Fuck it. She wasn’t thinking about me when she was visiting this guy, didn’t have a thought of me in her mind. One time she said she’ll always be the one who needs me more. Such bullshit.

  Closing my laptop, I call out, “Yep.” Then head to open my door.

  “You okay?” Aidan says. The dude might be an asshole superb on most days, but I can’t deny he knows me well, and vice versa. That’s what’s best about our brotherhood. We can move from razzing each other to supporting each other in a way no other friendship can. Not until you’ve fought side by side, for your life, saving each other’s, can you understand how deep the brotherhood goes. We’ve earned our right to be assholes to each other.

  I think about showing Aidan the photos, but then I think better of it because of the emotion on their faces. It’s that embarrassing—that telling. “Yeah, man. Woman problems,” I say, hoping that will suffice. “I need this night out more than ever.”