Can talking to a patch of land change the way a person feels? I want it to. I want it to so much that my heart aches and my breath catches in my chest.
I decide to sit, mostly because standing makes me feel pressured to do something or achieve something, and I don’t know how to make any of that happen. With my legs in soft grass and fingers twisting the green blades, I feel more grounded.
What do I say? Do I talk to him in my head or say things out loud?
Frustrated, I tear up a bunch of grass and let it fall. I’m too young to deal with this. Too young to be pregnant and alone. Too young to hold all this anger and anguish and responsibility and hurt inside. I don’t know how to make anything in my life better. I can’t see a bridge across all the turmoil.
“What do I do, Dad?” I ask, my voice cracking. “How do I make this better when you’re not here anymore? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean for you to never call me again. I mean, I know I said that was what I wanted. I know I told you that I hated you, and I didn’t want you to be part of my life, but it was just frustration. You have to know that. I was pushing you away, wanting you to come back. Wanting you to fight for me, but you didn’t. I know you said sorry in your letter. I know you loved me all these years. The boys told me. They showed me the pictures and mementos you kept, but that just makes me sadder. How could you leave all that time to pass and not want to change what happened? You were the adult. You were the one who should have known that kids say things they don’t mean, especially when they are angry and emotional. You made me believe that my voice drove you away. My voice went from being something good to something bad.” I take a shaky breath against the welling of emotions, brushing grass from my skirt before I exhale long and slow.
“I missed you. So much. I lost my faith in people and myself. I made mistakes…” My hand instinctively goes to my belly, and I shake my head. I can’t think of the life growing inside me as a mistake because it isn’t. The process that led to its creation was a mistake. Allowing Justin to use me was the error. Believing that our fake relationship would fill the hole in my heart was where I went wrong.
“And I’m floundering.” A tear leaks from the corner of my eye, and I swipe it away. “I don’t know what to do or where to go. I don’t even know who to be… I’ve lost my way, and you’re not here to help me find it. Mom is mad, and I understand. She’s done so much for me and this path… the one I’m on… isn’t one she would have chosen for me. I just… I…” The tears are flowing freely now, and my throat is burning. I rummage in my purse for a Kleenex and pat my face, trying not to smudge my make-up.
“This baby is coming, and I’m lost. I can’t ask Mom to take care of two of us. It’s not fair, and it isn’t what I want. I need to be out of that house to have a chance at mending our relationship. And the boys, your foster sons, they want to be there for me, but I don’t know what you’d think of that. In your letter, you told me that they’d always be there to take care of me and that they’d made that promise to you. You told me they were good men and that I can trust them, but I’m not sure. Trust is something that doesn’t come easily to me, and that’s something you’ve left behind. They want to take care of the baby and me, but they want more too. I know you knew about Danna, and maybe that’s what you thought when you wrote those things, but you weren’t explicit, and now I have to try and guess if me being in a relationship with eleven men would be something that you’d want for me. It seems like a crazy thing to even think and to be honest, I’m not sure I deserve them. How can I be enough for eleven men when I wasn’t enough to be your daughter? I ruin everything I touch, and I… I couldn’t bear to ruin things with my foster brothers. They want me to help keep them together, but there’s a big chance that I could do the opposite. There’s a big chance that my mouth will run away with me, and I’ll fracture my relationship with them and their relationships with each other. And the baby… the baby will love them, and I’ll be hurting the baby too. Don’t they deserve better? Don’t they deserve to go off and live their lives? To find a chance to fulfill their potential… the potential that you helped to nurture. They don’t need to be saddled with or forced to walk the path that I’m on. They didn’t ask to be daddies or for all the responsibility that comes with it.”