“We know what happens. We’ll keep seeing each other in secret, and we’ll fall in love, but they won’t change their minds and I’ll still have to leave, but it’ll hurt a hell of a lot worse in a few weeks than if I were to just leave right now.” I walk to the closet and grab my suitcase. I open it and toss it on the inflatable mattress and start throwing my shit in it. I can take a bus to the next town and then stay in a hotel until I figure out where to go. “I need money,” I say again. “I’ll pay you back every cent, Ledger. I promise.”
Ledger stomps over to me and shuts my suitcase. “Stop it.” He makes me turn and face him by pulling me in and wrapping me up in his arms. “Stop. Please.”
We’re too late. It already hurts so bad.
I press my hands against his shirt and grip it in my fists. I start to cry. I can’t bear the thought of not being around him, not seeing his smile, not feeling his support. I already miss him even though I’m still standing right here in his arms. But as much as the idea of leaving him hurts, I think my tears are for my daughter. They’re always for her.
“Ledger.” I say his name quietly, and then I lift my head from his chest and look up at him. “The only thing you can do at this point is go over there and apologize to them. Diem needs you. As much as it hurts, if they can’t move past what I did to them, it isn’t your job to repair or mend what’s broken inside of them. It’s your job to support them, and you can’t do that with me in your life.”
His jaw is clenched. It looks like he’s trying not to cry. But it also looks like he knows I’m right. He takes a step away from me and then opens his wallet. “You want my credit card?” he asks, pulling it out. He removes several twenty-dollar bills too. He seems so upset and mad and defeated as he angrily yanks stuff out of his wallet. He tosses his credit card and the cash on the counter, and then he steps toward me, kisses me on the forehead, and leaves.
He slams the door as he goes.
I lean forward and press my elbows into the counter, and I hold my head in my hands and I cry even harder, because I’m angry I allowed myself to get my hopes up. It’s been well over five years since it happened. If they were ever going to forgive me, they’d have done it by now. They’re just not the forgiving type.
There are people who find peace in forgiveness, and then there are others who look at forgiveness as a betrayal. To them, forgiving me would feel like betraying their own son. I can only hope they change their minds someday, but until then, this is my life. This is where it’s led me.
This is where I start over. Again. And I’m going to have to do it without Ledger or his encouragement or his belief in me. I’m sobbing now, but I’m still able to hear the front door when it swings back open.
I lift my head as he slams the door shut and strides across the room. He lifts me, setting me down on the counter so that we’re eye to eye, and then he kisses me with a sad desperation, as if it’s the last kiss he’ll ever give me.
After breaking our kiss, he looks at me with determination when he says, “I am going to be the best person I can be for your daughter. I promise. I’m going to give her the best life, and when she asks about her mother, I’m going to tell her what a wonderful person you are. I’ll make sure she grows up knowing how much you love her.”
I’m a fucking mess now, because I’m going to miss him so, so much.
He presses his swollen mouth to mine, and I kiss him gently because I don’t want to hurt him. Then our foreheads meet. It looks like he’s struggling to keep his composure. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you.” He starts to back away, pulling apart from me, and it hurts too much to watch him go, so I stare at the floor.
There’s something beneath my feet. It looks like a business card, so I slide off the counter and pick it up. It’s Ledger’s snow cone punch card. It must have fallen out of his wallet when he took everything out of it.
“Ledger, wait.” I meet him at the door and hand him his card. “You need this,” I say, sniffling back tears. “You’re so close to a free snow cone.”