Chapter 19
Two weeks pass and Timmy still won’t talk to me. He won’t even look at me, which is the most gut-wrenching part of all. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
I’m his mother. I felt him grow and live inside me. I dedicated my life to him. He’s why I gave up my career. So I can stay home and give him the upbringing Mike and I didn’t have because we each had both of our parents working.
And now my son won’t look at me. He wants nothing to do with me.
He won’t eat anything I make either. I cook dinner for him. Make him lunch, put cereal in a bowl in the morning, and he doesn’t touch any of it. I know he’s eating though. At least one of us is. I hear Timmy rummage around the kitchen when I’m in bed.
I give him more lea-way than I should, than I would if his father was here. But that is precisely the reason I’m so lenient. I carry around a great big ball of guilt that he doesn’t have his father, as if I had something to do with it. What he doesn’t get is that Mike’s loss is just as trying, just as stressful, for me as it is for Timmy.
I hold it all in. All the hurt. All the guilt. All the shit wearing me down hour by hour until I’m alone at night and I can cry and hate the world for doing me wrong.
Unlike when Mike died, I have to deal with it on my own. I have no one to talk to. No shoulder to cry on. I never told my parents or my friends about Chance, so I can’t let them know how broken hearted I am.
It hits me. A great big ugly truth slaps me in the face like a cold, dead fish.
I was never Chance’s dirty little secret like Timmy accused. Never ever. Chance wanted to take me out. He introduced me to friends. He even extended an invitation for Sunday dinner with his parents. Chance never treated me like a one night stand or someone he was just messing around with.
No, I wasn’t ever his dirty little secret. He was mine. I never said it. I never even thought it, but my actions, they spoke louder than words ever could.
No wonder I haven’t heard from him. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than I did a minute ago. But I do. I feel lower than dog shit. This is by far the lowest point of my life. And for a change it’s not the emptiness of losing Mike that has me unable to function. It’s loosing Chance.
*
It’s amazing how time passes whether you want it to or not. You can lie in bed with your head under the covers and hide away from the world for days on end, but the clock keeps ticking. Nothing you do slows it down or stops it.
I can’t believe a full month has passed since I kicked Chance out of my life. It’s been a lonely, quiet month with nothing to look forward to. I’m going stir crazy. I’m having a hard time being in my own skin.
I look at my left hand. I’m still wearing my wedding band. I never bothered taking it off after Mike died. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I twist it around my finger and pull. It slips off easily. As if even my fingers know it shouldn’t be there any longer.
I hold it and admire the twinkling of the tiny diamond chips along the perimeter of the band. The ring is endless. A symbol of infinite love. Just like my love for Mike. I clasp it tight in my fist and hold it against my chest. I don’t need to wear my wedding band to remember my husband. Just like I told Timmy, Mike is in my heart. Forever. He’s a part of me, and nothing is going to change that. I place the ring in the jewelry box on my dresser.
I need to do something to stop this free fall into nothingness. I shower, pull on a pair of yoga pants and a long shirt. I look like shit. My clothes don’t fit right. I haven’t been on the scale in over a month. I have no reason to.
I’m pale. My eyes have large dark bags underneath them. I’m not surprised. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.
Sleep isn’t the only thing I haven’t done. I haven’t left the house either. I’ve been using the delivery service the grocery store offers. Who cares that it costs more? At least this way I don’t have to find myself under the scrutiny of prying eyes. Eyes I’m sure have seen the image of me kissing Chance, along with the disgusting hashtags.
Thinking about it angers me. I need to snap the fuck out of this. I’m hiding from the world. A prisoner to public opinion. Why? Because I was caught kissing Chance. A kind, caring, sexy as hell man that happens to be younger than I am. So what? We’re both consenting adults. We did nothing wrong. Besides, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t kiss him if she had the opportunity?
I can handle the whispers and rumors. I could live with the scrutiny. It’s Timmy I worry about. And because of this, I’ve allowed my son to bully me into solitude. Last I checked he needs my permission to do things, not the other way around.
It’s time for me to stop this madness. I miss Chance more than I thought possible. I didn’t think anything could come close to how I felt in the early days of Mike’s death, but this far surpasses it. At least then, I could lose myself in Timmy. In taking care of him, making sure he was okay. Now I have nothing to help get me through the day.
My stomach roils. I feel sick. I’m so upset, so worn down that even it wants nothing to do with me and works under protest. I want to crawl back into bed and close my eyes, but I don’t. I force myself to put on make-up and get out of the house. Today is the first day of operation take back my life.
*
I type a message and delete it. I don’t know what to say. I’ve already left an apology on Chance’s voicemail. A few apologies. That was two weeks ago. He hasn’t gotten back to me. It’s probably time to move on and forget him, but I can’t. He worked his way too deep in my heart.
Two weeks ago I forced myself to go shopping and buy something sexy. I planned to wear it and go to his house to not only say how sorry I am, but to show him. I went to a store that caters to the younger crowd and bought a short, tight dress.
I scheduled an appointment with a high class salon I never used before to have my hair and make-up done. I looked good. Really good. The make-up hid the bags and how sunken in my cheeks are. I hardly recognized myself.
At home I got dressed and took a last look in the mirror before I left. I turned from side to side admiring how good, how different, I looked. I didn’t look like me at all. That was the problem. While my make-up never looked so good, the woman put it on so heavy, it looked and felt more like a mask than something to enhance my looks.
I chickened out of confronting Chance. I’d have no problem going to him like that if that was the norm, but not to apologize and try to win him back. He didn’t fall in love with a slut version of me. He fell for the good girl version of me. He fell for who I really am, not who I’m trying to be.
I’ve been forcing myself to leave the house, even though I’m bone tired most of the time. If I could sleep it wouldn’t be so bad, but this half an hour at a time bullshit is killing me. Sleep for half an hour stay awake for two hours. Every day is the same. Except lately I’m actually sleeping for two hours and awake for half an hour. I guess my body needs to make up for the sleep I lost. It’s not like I’m twenty years old.
Today I’m going to brave the grocery store in town. Once I left the house I decided to go to one a few towns over where I don’t know anyone. So far my strategy worked. I didn’t see a familiar face. I can’t hide forever. And the truth is, I don’t want to. I’m too tired, mentally and physically. If someone has something to say, let them say it to my face.
On line to pay the cashier, my stomach makes a loud angry sound. Shit, I don’t know the last time I ate. I can’t stand to even look at food, let alone eat it. Another loud growl catches the attention of the cashier and the woman behind me. Both women smile sympathetically. I guess we all have our days.
After packing the groceries away in the car I walk to a pizzeria further down in the strip mall. Pizza’s the healthiest fast food, and I don’t feel like putting anything together at home. I walk in, place my order and look for a table to sit at.
My heart drops ten stories below the ground. Chance. A woman. Holding hands. Tears prick my eyes. I can try to be brave all I want, this time I won’t succeed. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be in school. Not out with another woman.
No wonder he hasn’t called or texted. He’s moved on. So much for love. Guess his love doesn’t run as deep as mine, because there’s no way in hell I could even think about another man, let alone be out with one.
I want to change my order, and take it to go, but my stomach reminds me of why I’m here. It continues its campaign to humiliate and embarrass me. That’s what I get for leaving it completely empty.
While I wait for my slice of pizza to be ready, I can’t help myself. I gawk at them. She’s a young blonde. I shouldn’t be surprised. But I am. I believed his lies, hook, line and sinker.
Once my dish is ready, I sit down at table. I position myself so that I’m not facing them, not looking at them. But I can’t help looking over every few seconds. Wanting to eat even less now than I did when I got in here, I chew my food slowly.
“Ash, no!” His voice carries over to me.
Ash? Ashley. No wonder he looks so chummy with her. She’s his first love. The one he wanted a future with. The one.
“Stop being so silly,” she says, with a smile in her voice. I hate her. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch her walk away looking for something, anything wrong with her. But I can’t find anything. No ugly wart on her nose. No hunch in her back. Not one fucking little imperfection.
Is it wrong to hate someone so vehemently just because they exist? I have no right, no reason to hate Ashly, but if the ceiling caved in right now and every piece of it fell on her head, I wouldn’t be upset. In fact I’d cheer.
What has this man reduced me to?
He’s looking down into his soda, toying with the straw. He’s much better at this game than I am. I fucking hate that while I’m here eating my heart out, he won’t even look at me. Fine, I’ll force him to look at me. I’ll get in his face.
Before Ashley returns, I get out of my seat and approach Chance. He looks up, His leg bounces under the table as if he’s nervous. Our eyes meet. For the first time in six weeks, I get to fall into those pools of jade. Only I can’t bare looking at them because they’re hard and cold. I focus on his lips. Lips that have kissed every part of my body. Lips I’m longing to taste and feel.
STOP!
I swallow hard and take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
It’s hard to find words. “I handled everything wrong. I should’ve listened to you. And I never should’ve let you leave.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything. Why won’t he say anything?
Ashley returns and slips into the booth across from Chance. I see questions in her eyes as he reaches across the table and takes her hand in his. I plan on being the one to answer them, but my stomach has other plans. My stomach spasms. Shit. I run from the table into the bathroom and heave.
I hate throwing up. Tears stream down my face even though I’m not crying, as a mixture of bile and pizza keep forcing their way out of my stomach. Fuck, and I didn’t even eat that much. When I’m done in the bathroom, I spend time cleaning myself up: rinsing my face and swishing water around in my mouth.
I hope he’s gone. The last thing I want to do now is face Chance.
Ashley waits for me outside the bathroom door. I was wrong. The last thing I want is to have to deal with her.
“Would you like a ride home?” She asks, handing me my purse.
Is she being nice or does she want to rub my face in the fact that she’s the one with Chance now? The one he thinks about, the one he loves.
“No, thank you.”
“I think we should talk.”
“Please, just go. I can’t do this.”
“Have it your way.” She walks away, with a slight shake of her head. Bitch! Boy do I hate her.