Misunderstandings (Woodfalls Girls 2)

3:55 PM

Turning away from Justin, I sank down to the elevator floor, exhausted that we were back where we had started. I brushed away the tears from my eyes. It’s not like they could rewind time or change the past, and they certainly couldn’t undo the harsh words.

“You should have told me,” Justin accused.

“It was my body,” I countered.

“That’s bullshit. It was my baby too.”

I cringed at the word. Baby. I never allowed myself to think of it that way. It was the only way to ease the pain. Hearing him say it now was like a sword being rammed through my chest.

We were entering territory I had not forged into. Not with Melissa when she begged me to tell Justin everything. Not with Justin, who refused to hear my side when I needed support. And definitely not with my mom, who could never have handled the truth. Only one person knew all the sordid details. Tressa had met me at the airport more than two years ago and, with one look at me, detoured to the airport bar, where she ordered us several drinks in a row. Somehow we avoided being carded. Maybe the bartender, who was also a woman, could sense the grief I was experiencing. Maybe it would have been obvious to anyone. Either way, I was grateful. With the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream, my tongue loosened and my tears fell hot and fast as I poured my heart out to my best friend. She listened as I explained how Justin had ripped my guts out in front of everyone. How he’d refused to listen. At times Tressa’s face twisted with anger, but through it all she held my hand, giving me what I needed, someone to hear my side. As the last words left my mouth, I vowed to never utter them again. The pain was too unbearable. Tressa offered the support I needed with no judgment. She was loyal to the core, even offering to fly to Seattle to make Justin suffer.

Now, two years later, Justin and I were stuck together in this elevator, like two dogs forced to fight each other in some illegal backyard brawl. I couldn’t fault him for his anger any more than I could fault myself for the choices I had made. I could have pushed harder two years ago, forcing him to hear me. Even through all his resistance, I could have provided evidence that would have explained everything. At the time, I’d been so hurt by how quickly he had turned on me that I couldn’t find the will to do any more than walk away with the small amount of dignity I had left. Maybe if things hadn’t gotten so screwed up, so ugly, they could have been different. We would never know that outcome, though.

26.

February 2011

“Is there something wrong with your chicken?” Justin asked, looking at the mangled uneaten mess on my plate.

“No. I’m just not hungry,” I said shortly. I was afraid if I said more, the secret I was holding would leak from my mouth, and I wasn’t ready to tell him. I was still trying to come to grips with the situation myself. A situation that had been confirmed in the bathroom just a few hours before Justin picked me up. The pee stick delivered the news in seconds. For whatever reason, I thought it would take longer. Instead, I glared at the offending stick, which had instantly stolen any last bit of denial I had left.

“Are you done? I really have to pee,” Stephanie, from the room we shared the communal bathroom with, called through the door.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” I answered, washing my hands after hastily wrapping the test stick in toilet paper. Before exiting the bathroom, I unlocked the door adjacent to Stephanie’s room so she could get in. I was already exiting the door to my room when she called out a greeting. I pretended I didn’t hear her, not sure I could stomach a conversation centering on who was hooking up with who. I liked Stephanie a lot, and most days her idle chitchat was entertaining. She had a way of spinning every story into a mock standup comedy act. It was all in good fun and everyone found it worth bragging about when she decided to add you into her act. At the moment, though, laughing was not on my agenda.

“I can order you something else,” Justin asked, sounding aggravated.

“No. I’m really not that hungry,” I answered. I wasn’t surprised he was losing patience with me. My end of our conversations over the past week had been reduced to one-word answers. I told myself I was waiting to tell him the truth until I knew for sure. Now that the life-changing stick had verified the news, I couldn’t find the courage to speak up. He was obviously confused over my sudden standoffishness and broken dates, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to fix it.

“You haven’t been in the mood to talk either. What’s with you lately?” he probed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been pretty self-involved for days now. Is this your way of telling me you want out of this relationship? Because if that’s the case, all you have to do is say the word,” he said, expressionless.

“Are you serious?” I stewed. “Are you trying to break up with me?”

“Is that what you want?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Is it what you want?” I asked, throwing his words back at him. The nausea that plagued my body swirled inside me until it lodged in my throat.

“Hey, I’m not here to force you to stay in a relationship if you’ve lost interest. Last week you broke all our dates, claiming to be sick or busy. This week, every time we’re together, you’ve got a vacant look on your face. Obviously, I’m boring you. If that’s the case, there are plenty of other chicks I can hook up with.”

His words made me feel like I was being dragged under water with no way to return to the surface. How had we gotten to this point so quickly? I had been moody and a little vacant recently, I got that. Was that really all it took for him to throw in the towel? How could he handle the responsibility of a pregnancy when he couldn’t handle a week of not being the center of attention?

“Hook up? Did you really just say that to me?” I asked. I didn’t care that my voice carried across the restaurant. He had pushed the wrong button and was being unfair. I was trying to deal with a life-changing event and he was thinking about who he could hook up with next. I clenched my fist, wanting to punch the snarky look right off his face.

“Chill,” Justin said in a lower voice, looking uncomfortably at the other patrons sitting near us.

“Chill? You want me to chill? How about you chill,” I said, picking up my glass of water and throwing it in his face. The other diners chuckled at the free show, but I paid no attention. “You go hook up with those other girls. I need nothing from you anymore,” I said as my voice shook with rage and hurt.

I was halfway home before the tears finally made it past the rage and into sorrow. As they poured down my cheeks with no end in sight, everything inside me turned to burned ash. Why should I be so surprised that it would end this way? Justin wasn’t the type to stick to a relationship. Hell, neither was I. Could I really blame him for getting bored with me, especially after my behavior these last few weeks? We were both anticommitment.

“Holy crap, Brittni. What happened to you?” Melissa jumped up as I burst into our room. “You’ve been crying,” she stated, unsure how to handle this anomaly.

I nodded, sinking down on my bed. Scooting back, I picked up my pillow and clutched it against my chest, hoping it would help the pain.