The Midwife's Confession

“What do you mean, ‘sorry’?”

“I really shouldn’t have… I took advantage of you.”

“No, you didn’t! I wanted to do it.”

“I know you did, and I took advantage of that fact.”

“Cleve! I—”

“You wanted to do it because you want us to be together again, but that’s not what I want.”

“Yes, you do,” I said.

“Nothing’s changed, okay, Grace? Everything I said about us needing to see other people…about being free… It’s still all true.”

“Cleve!”

“Look, you know I care about you a lot, right?”

“Yes.”

“I always will. No matter what happens, okay? But I screwed up by emailing and texting you after we broke up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought it would be okay,” he said. “I didn’t want to, like, cut you off cold turkey, but I think all the contact made you feel like we’re not really broken up. We need to chill on being in touch with each other, at least for a few months.”

A few months? The thought of not being able to talk to him felt like one more death. I started to cry. I tried to hide it at first, but I couldn’t speak and he knew. My life was totally empty. No Daddy. Jenny spending more and more time with Devon. Now no Cleve. He’d been my lifeline.

“Grace, don’t,” he said. “Come on. I’m sorry, but this is the right thing to do. I should have done it sooner. My buddy says it’s like taking off a Band-Aid. I should have done it fast instead of bit by bit. It’ll hurt like hell for a few minutes, but better than… I think I’ve been leading you on, staying in touch.”

“And screwing me last night!”

“Don’t talk about it like that.”

“That’s all it was to you, though. That’s what you’re saying.”

I heard him let out a big, frustrated-sounding sigh. “This is pointless,” he said. “I don’t know how to end things with you. We have to just stop. Starting right now, as soon as we hang up, no more texting or anything. It’s the best way for you to start living your life without me.”

“Because you want to live your life without me,” I said.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “Right now, I need to.”

I hung up, then speed-dialed him right back, but he didn’t pick up.

I texted him. Sorry I hung up. I waited, staring at the black display on my phone. Nothing. He wasn’t going to answer me.

I remembered how amazing it had been with him the night before. When he was with me, he wanted me. The second he was away from me, though, he was influenced by his stupid friends.

I had to see him.

I would take action.

39

Tara

Grace was in the kitchen when I got home from church. She sat at the table with a mug of coffee, her phone in front of her.

“How was your solo?” she asked.

I didn’t even think she’d heard me when I mentioned the solo earlier. “It went well,” I said. People had told me I sounded wonderful, and I’d forgotten how it felt to fill that beautiful space with my voice. But I’d felt empty inside and it wasn’t until I was driving home that I realized why: Sam wasn’t there. He always said my singing moved him. Not in so many words, but I knew how he was feeling by the way he’d hold my hand when I came back to the pew.

“When are you going out?” I asked. She was wearing cropped pants and a long-sleeved striped T-shirt and her hair was damp.

“In a little while,” she said. “I cleaned my bathroom.”

“Excellent!” I leaned over to give her a hug and her cool, damp hair stuck a little to my cheek. It was rare for me to only have to ask her once.

She folded her hands on the table, pressing them together so hard that her knuckles were white.

“Mom, listen.” She looked up at me. “I know you’re going to say no right away, so just listen to everything I say before you react, okay?”

It seemed like the longest sentence she’d said to me in months.

“Okay.” I leaned back against the counter. This was good. I would not say no right away. I’d let her talk.

“I’m going to Chapel Hill this afternoon. For the night. I—”