I’m going to be late for work, but this is an opportunity that I can’t pass up. I have made a habit of calling Brandi at least once a day, but she never answers. I’m sure I’m driving her crazy, but I am desperate to get her to talk to me ever since I found out she was pregnant. This morning, out of habit, I gave her a call, and she actually answered. She is not exactly friendly, but I still have gotten her to answer!

“Jonathan, I swear, stop calling me! It’s fucking early in the morning,” she hisses into the phone.

“Please, don’t hang up!” I beg. I’m sitting on the couch in Tyler’s apartment; he had just headed off to Damion’s gym for his morning workout routine before his shift at the dump, so I have the place to myself. Tonight is supposed to be my seminar, and Tyler’s speaking at it, so he headed out early to get his workout in today.

“Okay, fine,” she snaps, “you got me on the phone. What the hell do you want?”

I don’t know what to say. I honestly didn’t expect her to answer. “I want to see you,” I say, and I’m sure she can hear the desperation in my voice.

“Well, that’s not going to happen, Jonathan,” she says.

“I just wish you’d give me another chance,” I say.

I can hear her breathing into the phone like she’s panting from her anger. “I gave you plenty of chances.”

I want her to tell me she’s pregnant at least, but I don’t want to get the housemaid fired for letting me find out. “I know, I know,” I tell her, “you did. Maybe… maybe I could just come see you dance? I haven’t seen one of your shows in a while.” Now, I am hoping, she’ll tell me she hasn’t been dancing because of the pregnancy.

“No,” she says, and that ended that pretty quickly.

“I love you,” I say, and she is just quiet, “please, don’t hang up on me,” I add.

“I’m still here,” she says, and her voice sounds slightly less angry.

“I’m miserable without you,” I say. “I messed up, I know that. I messed up bad. I hurt you. I hurt myself… I hurt Gabe. But I’m different now. I swear.”

“Your word means very little to me now, Jonathan. Do you realize I found another one of your alcohol stashes the other day? You moved out months ago, and I’m still finding evidence of all the lies you told me,” she is getting herself worked up again. “I’m sorry, Jonathan, but we’re done.”

“Brandi, please, wait, please, don’t hang up on me,” I say desperately.

“Stop trying to make me feel guilty,” she says, “you… you’re a washed up boxer and a damn drunk! I shouldn’t have to feel guilty about that!”

“I have a job now,” I say, and her voice softens.

“That’s good, Jonathan,” she says.

“And I’m going to AA meetings again,” I say.

“I’m glad,” she says.

“And-”

She cuts me off, “I’m seeing someone else.” There is a long, uncomfortable silence. She adds, “I’m sorry,” to the end of that.

I feel my eyes become watery, and my throat tightens. “Who?” I ask.

“Does it matter?” she asks.

It does if she’s pregnant! If she’s keeping my child from me –if she’s going to be brining some guy around my child, then yes, it fucking matters! “Brandi-” I say, and my lip quivers.

“Jonathan,” she says softly and sadly, “don’t ever call me again, or I’ll file for a restraining order.” She hangs up the phone.

I want to curl up and go back to bed and pretend that conversation didn’t just happen, but I can’t. I have to work.