after square of sidewalk, I tried desperately to get my thoughts to line up and make some sort of sense. Sean’s appearance was…unexpected.
It was wonderful.
And it was awful.
I was relieved.
And I was furious.
I wanted him to leave.
But I desperately hoped he would stay.
I had been surviving. Over the past two months I had come to the point where I was surviving, making it from one day to another, acting almost like a normal person. I had bottled and boxed and fenced in my emotions so that they were contained and manageable.
Now, though? Now.
The bottles were broken, the boxes were torn, and the fences demolished. There was no keeping it in. My emotions once again felt huge—too overwhelming to tame or name or contain. They were in chaos, running through my body, one second filling my head, the next second spilling over the bounds of my heart and then making my hands shake and my eyes burn and my knees tremble.
So I walked. I walked until my newly widened hips ached. I walked until the deep-seated fatigue of pregnancy settled like a twenty-pound blanket on my shoulders.
Then I turned around and walked home. Though I’d been walking a long time, I had stayed close to home, roaming nearby streets over and over while avoiding my own street.
In five minutes I could see my house and the strange car still sitting in front of it.
Sean hadn’t left.
I wished I knew how that made me feel—how it should make me feel. What would a healthy reaction to this situation look like?
I reached for the door handle but stopped when I heard the music. Sean was playing his guitar, the acoustic that I loved. I leaned my head against the door and listened, determining that he was just playing whatever melody came to mind. It wasn’t anything I recognized.
I turned the knob quietly, managing to walk in without him noticing. He had his head bent and his eyes closed as he played, just like I knew he would. I gently closed the door and leaned my back against it as I continued to listen.
My heart was comforted by his music and his presence. It liked that he was here, and that bothered me, because wanting him here was dangerous. I was too fragile to survive a wave of Sean crashing through my life.
My feet hurt and I was tired of standing. I walked to the couch and sat down, pulling a pillow onto my lap to hide my belly. I watched him, knowing that he was aware of me. His music had changed as soon as I’d pushed away from the door. It was quieter, less defined, like a haze had fallen over the notes. After another minute, it faded completely and Sean raised his head to look at me. I waited for the words to come, for him to say something, anything. But his clear eyes just looked at me like he had all the time in the world.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer and broke the silence. “Why are you still here?” Bewilderment made my voice quiet.
“Because you need someone.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I wasn’t. Still. “And you think you can make it better?”
“I do,” he said with a nod and a steady gaze.
“How?”
“By being here.”
It sounded so simple. It wasn’t. I knew just how hard it was to be there. I knew the toll it took. The time and energy and emotional investment. From what I remembered of Sean, he didn’t have that kind of fortitude. Time had passed, certainly. He could be different, grown into something stronger. I hoped that was the case. But I wasn’t going to bet my emotional well-being on it.
Even as I sat there, trying to see the good intent, trying to believe him without getting my hopes up, the bitter resentment rose up, flushing my face and scorching my eyes. I remembered all the times he’d humiliated me. All the times I’d chosen him over everyone else. All the times he hadn’t chosen me.
“Will you talk to me?” he finally asked.
I looked away, shaking my head without meaning to. “What do you want me to talk about?”
“Tell me how you are.”
I turned back to him and gave him an angry shrug. “How am I supposed to be? You want me to feed you some line about how it’s hard but I’m at peace and I know I can get through this?”
“I want you to be honest.”
An impolite guffaw burst from my lips. “Oh, believe me, Sean,