I felt like I was fifteen years old. But she was right. I knew plenty of successful people who were single mothers, but that’s not the life I envisioned. Abortion wasn’t an option, and neither was giving up my child for adoption.
“So, what do you say?” Steven said.
“She says yes,” my mom repeated.
I side-eyed her, and she stepped back and made a zipper motion over her lips.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure myself.
He placed his hand on my stomach. “I am.”
I took a deep breath. Do the right thing, the little voice in my head said. So I responded. “Then yes, the answer is yes.”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” MY mom asked, walking into my room and snapping me out of my trip down memory lane. My microdiamond had been replaced by my wedding day with a three-carat princess-cut diamond, compliments of Steven’s father, who refused to let his son “shame the family with that little ring.” I think that Steven was a little insulted that I had sided with his father, but with the two rings side by side, that was a no-brainer.
“I’m just thinking.”
“I’m thinking that you’re thinking too much.” She gave me a soft smile.
“Mama, Felise says I’m searching for something that’s not there.”
“Baby, you lost your husband. That’s understandable.” My sister had filled my mom in on everything, and I was surprised she had taken so long to give me her two cents.
“I think you’re reading too much into the underwear thing. I mean, I was there—you had a big argument on the phone. You think this mystery woman was just sitting there, being quiet?”
That was easily explained. “She knew to shut her mouth when the wife calls.”
“You’ve been watching too much Lifetime.” My mom picked up the remote and clicked the TV off. “I think you’re trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense.”
“I guess.” I shrugged.
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy, replaying and over-thinking everything. I’m sorry this had to happen, but his death is not a reflection of your relationship or anything of the sort, so you’ve got to let it go.”
I nodded but merely to get my mom to leave. She would never see eye to eye with me. My gut was telling me that no matter what any of them said, I couldn’t rest until I got some answers.
30
Felise
THE SOUNDS OF TEDDY PENDERGRASS met me at the door.
“Hey,” Greg said, greeting me as I walked in.
“What’s this?” I asked, dropping my keys on the counter. The kitchen was spotless, and dinner was laid out on the table, which was decorated like it sat in the middle of a five-star restaurant.
Greg leaned in and kissed me before flashing a seductive smile.
“I cooked dinner. Liz is over at her friend’s house, and I thought we could have a quiet evening at home.”
I groaned. I wanted a quiet evening, all right, but by myself. It had been a rough day in the ER, I had been madly trying to figure out what Sabrina was up to (I’d called, but she hadn’t returned the call), and I just wanted to get home and lay down.
“Wh-what’s this?” I motioned to Greg’s shoes, which were in the middle of the floor. He eyed the shoes and smiled, not making any attempt to pick them up. “So, you’re really just going to let them sit there?” I asked.
Now I was getting nervous. Shoes lying around might have seemed normal for the average person, but for Greg not to pick them up? I needed to take his temperature because he obviously was running a fever. “Why are your shoes in the middle of the floor?”
“It’s an experiment,” he said. He put his hands over mine and led me to the kitchen table, where he sat me down. “I know I’m not the easiest person to live with, but one thing’s for sure: I love you with all my heart. I know I need to relax and get this OCD under control, so I’ve been seeing a therapist.”
“What? Since when?”
“Since the night of our fight, the day after our anniversary. I’ve only had a few sessions, but I can feel some progress.”
“You’re going to see a therapist?” That in and of itself was major because Greg was old school, and while he knew that something was wrong with him, never in a million years did I think he’d seek help. He only agreed to counseling after his affair because he didn’t want me to walk out the door.
“I don’t want to lose you, and I saw in your eyes the night of our anniversary that I was on the verge. I couldn’t risk that. So, yes, I’ve been seeing a therapist, and she gave me an exercise today.” He looked over at the shoes again, and his cheek twitched at the violation they represented. “Whew, it’s been hard. I stepped out of them when I got home, and I’ve been wanting to pick them up ever since.”