Nate O: I realized all I do is text you about how I’m doing. It’s a little weird since all I really want to know how YOU are doing. I hope you are okay. I hope Accident feels like home and is healing you from all the hurt I caused. I’m so sorry for all of that. I understand what that means now. I’m not sure it makes any difference at this point, but I hope some day you can at least forgive me.
Nate O: I never expected to say this when I was forced into a hospital and therapy, but I’m starting to see how much I need it. Honestly, I thought they’d just lock me up and throw away the key. I deserved as much. Now I think maybe I can be better. For real. I still miss you terribly. I wish we could talk.
Nate O: I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this, but even when you don’t respond, it seems to help me process when I pretend I’m talking to you. Maybe that’s what you do with your plant? I don’t know if they’re the same. Beats talking to my dead father though, right? Ha! Maybe humor doesn’t help here. I don’t know.
Nate O: I told my therapist that I’m still texting you daily. She’s not happy with it. She says it might be helping me, but it might be hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you, Cherry. I still love you, and I don’t ever want to hurt you. If you do ever read these and you want me to stop texting, I will. I’ll hate it, but I will stop if you tell me to. Is that passive aggressive? I don’t know anymore. Maybe it’s an addiction. I feel like I need it, so I guess it is.
As I finish reading the most recent messages, the tears start again. I swipe them away angrily, slam the phone down on the table and stomp back into the kitchen. Eventually, I find something that doesn’t turn my stomach, but it doesn’t help my mood.
I place my hand on my abdomen, unable to comprehend what I know is going on inside of me. A small part of me says this is the worst possible timing and circumstances, but the idea of…of ending the pregnancy isn’t something I think I can even consider.
“I can’t do that, Vee. Even the idea of giving it up for adoption…I just can’t consider it.”
Briefly, I feel my body relax as I utter the decision aloud.
“So, if I’m going to keep the baby, the next decision is whether or not to tell Nate about it.”
This decision is easier for me. I have to tell him, plain and simple. Regardless of what has happened between us, concealing something like this is fundamentally wrong. As a child who didn’t know her parents at all, I can’t even consider my baby not having a father in his life.
My baby.
A shudder runs through me. I’m not ready for this.
“It’s still happening,” I remind myself. “I’m going to have to get ready for it.” I look over at Vee and her drooping leaves. “I’ve been neglecting you. How am I going to take care of a baby by myself if I can’t even remember to water a plant?”
I pull Vee down from the hook and place the pot in the kitchen sink. After a good soaking, I leave Vee in the sink to drain.
“The big question is, how do I get the information to Nate without putting myself right in the middle of everything? Is that even possible?”
I rub my eyes and blow my nose.
“I told him I wanted honesty, but I’m not even being honest with myself.” I reach over and tilt the pot in the sink, letting the water drain from the bottom. “Do you think he’s changed at all? Do you think he’s better now that he’s getting help? Will he keep getting help as long as he needs it, or will he get tired of it and stop? Will the idea of being a father make it better or worse?”
I bite down on my lip. Family is very important to Nate. I’m almost positive he will consider the idea of a baby as a good thing.
I want to see him.
“I have to text him back,” I whisper.
I close my eyes for a moment and then hurriedly grab the phone. I swallow hard as my fingers fly over the keys.
We should talk soon.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
“Pull off the bandage, Cherry,” I say aloud. “You can’t leave him in the dark. Best to get it over with.”
The phone vibrates just a moment later.
Nate O.: Yes, please. Anytime. I can call you right now if you want. I’m so, so glad you replied.
I should have realized he’d reply immediately. Though pulling off the bandage fast is always my preferred method for a healing cut, I’m not sure if I’m ready to tell him about the baby right this second.
“Maybe that’s the wrong approach. We have a lot of other things to talk about.”
I steel myself again and type out another message.
Give me about fifteen minutes, then call.
Nate O: Gladly, though it may be the longest 15 min of my life
For the next fifteen minutes, all I do is stare at the phone and wait for it to ring. I’d wanted to get my thoughts together, but suddenly, the time is up. The phone vibrates, and a picture of Nate and me at the Maple Syrup Festival appears on the screen. I reach out and tentatively tap the answer icon.
“Hello.” I barely get the word out.
“Hello, Cherry.” After a
