Two lines. I was pregnant. There was no doubt about it this time. I was pregnant, and I was doomed. I had consigned the father of my child to be chased by horrible people, maybe even killed. I had nowhere to go now, no one to blame but myself. I had made a horrible, terrible mistake. There was only one thing to do: throw myself headfirst into the mess, probably making the mistake even worse, making everything worse.
My still shaking hand picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“I can meet you today,” I said. “Doug’s Day Diner in an hour.”
I staggered out of the bathroom, hearing Tiffany saying words but registering only that I had to keep moving, had to get out of there.
Once in my car, I started driving. As I drove, I turned on the radio and then hit the scan key, going from station to station to station. I passed by nice music, bad music, annoying voices, melodious voices, irritating ads, mysterious readings. I passed through them all, because I wasn’t looking for any of them, really. I was looking for what I wouldn’t find, not on the radio and not anywhere. I was looking for what to do now.
I never found it. Instead, I arrived at the diner. It was just as I remembered it: taupe plaster and clear windows for walls, purple-lettered sign. I went to our usual spot, the purple table by the window, and waited. I was thirty minutes early, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did. All I knew was that I had to see one of them, and since Brock wasn’t an option, my other mistake would have to do.
He came seven minutes late with a sullen expression, like he was the pregnant one. He slumped in the chair across from me. It was the other nostril with the scabbed chapped skin this time.
“Took you a while,” he said. “Where have you been? I waited around for days.”
He didn’t seem to notice that I didn’t respond; I wasn’t here for that. I wasn’t here to absorb him, for him to ooze onto.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I’m pregnant.”
He scratched at his nose, and when his hand came away, his eyes were on me. It was a cold, unfeeling gaze—an uncomfortable sneer, like I’d said something unseemly.
“My, you have been busy while I’ve been away, haven’t you?”
I gaped at him, at this man I was inexplicably drawn to, at this poison I still couldn’t quite quit.
I knew what to do, and, better than that, suddenly I could do it.
As if he hadn’t heard me, he started talking, the words bleeding from his lips like an open wound.
“You won’t believe what these past few months without you have done to me. I got in deep, real deep. Way worse. Drink all night and looking for more all day. I lost my job, Alex. You know the one we always joked would never let me go? I’ve got nothing now; even my old friends won’t have anything to do with me. I had to sell everything, even that nice watch you bought me. But that isn’t anything compared to what I’ve been through missing you. I can’t sleep. It’s not the body; it’s the broken heart.”
His voice was high-pitched and loud, railing into my brain. People around us stared, and he scratched at his nose.
“I know how it looks, okay? It’s just different this time. Different.”
Time paused so I could get a good look at him, at this broken man who was almost unrecognizable from the boy I’d fallen in love with. The boy had been an artist with a broken smile who had sung me a song the first time we’d met, who had run with me from one end of downtown Boulder to the other so we could arrive in time for my friend’s show.
And yet, there was nothing of that boy in this man before me, this being reduced to a want, a need, an urge. Charlie wasn’t here for me; he was here for more money, for it.
His face had been hollowed in by it. Deep circles dug under his pink-rimmed eyes. His nose was rotting away from the inside out from it. His skin was yellow and sickly from it. And still, it was what he wanted. Not me. Not for years now.
I stood up.
“Alex,” he said, “I’ve missed you. Where have you been? I need you.”
I walked out of there, and he followed.
“Alex, I’ll change. I’m different. I’m two weeks sober. I’ll change. I’m changing. I swear I’ll change.”
Even in my car, after I’d closed the door, he stood beside it, imploring me with eyes I didn’t look at, with a voice I could just barely make out.
“Please, Alex. Please. I’ll change. I’ll—”
I lowered the car window. I shook my head at him.