I knew that with just as much certainty that I couldn’t hold my breath forever.
I knew that because he’d said it enough times that there was no doubt in my mind that he’d be there for me and this baby. Forever.
7
Lia
Six months later
I adjusted myself on the bed, propping up a few pillows behind me, but still I couldn’t get comfortable. The large belly I carried made it almost impossible these days, but I couldn’t help but smile as I looked down, my stomach tenting my shirt, a silly grin on my face.
I ran my hands over the basketball shaped roundness under the cotton shirt, a little kick here, another jab there bumping up against my palms as if the little guy nestled safely inside was saying hello.
I focused on the mattress in front of me, papers spread out, pictures a scattered mess. All these months I’d been documenting the pregnancy, every day, every kick, every ache and pain. I’d been writing down my experience, collecting any and all images--even taking one every month to show the progress of my swelling belly. And now it was time to organize what I had.
I’d started doing this from the very first doctor’s appointment. Hell, I’d even taken a picture of the positive pregnancy stick with my cell phone and printed it off—the very first proof of what was going to change our lives.
Mine.
Jameson’s.
And our son I carried.
I picked up the first ultrasound picture that had ever been taken, the little bean shape in the center of the black-and-white image nothing like how a baby looked as you held it in your arms, or even a profile picture that you got when you had the anatomy scan.
I’d been seven weeks pregnant for that image.
I set it down and picked up the next image, this one a couple weeks after that first ultrasound. Because I’d been spotting here and there, the doctor had been overly cautious, much to my relief. Besides, I would take as many images of the little baby inside of me as I could, things that I could show Jameson so he didn’t feel like he missed out on anything.
I looked over every printout I’d gotten from my doctor appointments that showed my weight gain, the size of my belly, the growth of the baby. I started making a journal, writing down a page or two every single night before I went to bed, nothing really of much importance in most of the entries, but a look back so that if Jameson wanted to, he could read about how many times the baby kicked that day.
And despite the fact I really had no friends therefore there was no baby shower, no surprise gathering thrown in celebration, I was fine with that. I was used to taking care of myself, or supporting myself in all ways.
Over these last months, I’d scrapped and saved every single penny, buying everything myself, stocking up on wipes and diapers early on. I’d read every magazine I could, the What to Expect When You’re Expecting book from front to back so many times the pages were dog-eared.
I was doing the best I could with what I had.
And I wished most of all Jameson was here to experience it all firsthand.
I leaned back again, crossed my legs at the ankles, and stared at the picture that sat on my dresser across from me. I couldn’t see it very clearly because of the distance, but I didn’t have to to know what the image was. It was seared in my brain. I’d memorized every single line, every single color, every facial expression.
Everything.
It was a picture of Jameson and I years ago, our graduation, one of the first milestones we’d experienced together. In the image I was staring off at the camera, a huge grin on my face. Jameson was looking down at me, a little smile curving his.
God, I couldn’t wait until he was back home. I couldn’t wait until I could share this new milestone with him. I just hoped things worked out. I just really hoped they did.
8
Jameson
The reunion: ten months later after Jameson left
The sporadic letters Lia and I had exchanged during all these months hadn’t been enough. Not seeing her face or hearing her voice had been the worst kind of fucking pain. Yeah, I left so I could gain knowledge and experience, to help those who needed it the most. But leaving Lia behind had been fucking awful.
Not telling her how I felt for longer than was even acceptable, I knew that all of that had to change. This wasn’t even about both of us sleeping together ten months prior. This wasn’t about me being in love with her well before that. This wasn’t even about me realizing that I'd been nothing but a coward as I lay in bed alone across the fucking ocean wishing I’d been more of a man and just confessed how I felt before I’d left.