Only You
Page 49
I was so stunned by her statement that I didn’t even realize it was my turn next. Everyone was waiting for me to speak, and she elbowed me in the side. “Emme,” she whispered. “Go.”
“Oh! Uh, I only fall in love with assholes.” That hadn’t been what I’d planned to say, but Maren had me flustered. Thankfully, everyone laughed, even Harmony and my sister. “Sorry,” I said, holding up two hands. “I probably could have phrased that more elegantly. I’m failing at life today.”
“The truth isn’t always elegant,” said Harmony. “And I like your honesty and self-awareness. Look at those things as triumphs.”
After we all voiced our most nagging negative thoughts, Harmony explained that we needed to change the way we thought and felt about ourselves in order to change the frequency at which we were vibrating in the universe. I managed not to roll my eyes, but let Maren know with a giant sigh how I felt. She elbowed me again. “Just go with it, okay? For me, if not for yourself?”
“Fine. For you. But you owe me a real smoothie for this. Not one with kale in it.”
“Deal.”
So for the next twenty minutes, I listened to Harmony explain how positive affirmations could help us change our frequencies. She then gave each of us suggestions based on our individual needs. For Maren, she suggested something like I am a positive contribution to this world. For me, she suggested I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship.
I kind of liked it.
“So? What did you think?” Maren asked as we sat sipping our smoothies.
“I thought the thing about our vibrations in the universe was a bunch of hooey, but the rest of it kind of made sense. I felt bad when everyone was voicing their negative thoughts.”
She nodded. “Same.”
“Do you really feel that way?” I asked her. “Like you don’t really matter to the world?”
“Sometimes.” She looked down at her smoothie. “I often struggle with what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. When I was dancing, I felt like I really had purpose. I was creating something. But I’ve sort of been wandering since then.”
“But you have a job you love, and you have peace and balance and inner homeogenius.”
That made her smile. “Homeostasis.”
I smiled back, then I tilted my head. “It really surprises me that you feel that way.”
Her cheeks went a little pink. “I do have all those things, and it feels really first world of me to complain that I don’t have purpose in life when so many people in the world are suffering. I think that might be it—I’d like to do something outside myself, something bigger. I just don’t know what.”
“You’ll figure it out, Maren,” I said, putting a hand on hers. “You’re destined for something great. I know it.” It made me feel a little better actually, to think that someone as comfortable with herself as Maren seemed had her own brand of self-doubt. Not that I wanted my sister to feel bad, but something about knowing she occasionally did made me feel less alone.
Later on, when I was pouring myself a glass of wine and waiting for my frozen Lean Cuisine Enchilada Verde to cook, I tried out my positive affirmation. “I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship,” I said aloud. It felt a little weird, but I did it again anyway. “I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship.”
I repeated it again as I rinsed my dishes and put them in the dishwasher. And again as I brushed my teeth. And again as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Did it make me feel less sad about Nate? No. I missed his voice and his smile and his arms around me so badly, it was a struggle not to break down and give my pillow another good soak.
However, I did start to believe it, and feel slightly better about my decision to stand up for myself and let him know that what he did was not okay. I deserved better in life, and it was up to me to go after it.
The next morning, I texted my cousin Mia that I’d thought about it long enough, and I’d decided to accept her offer.
Twenty
Nate
I slept on and off the first half of Sunday, alternating naps with periods of self-loathing and regret. There was a decent amount of self-pity as well, which was sort of pathetic and disgusting, but I kept telling myself that I’d done what I had to, everyone was better off, and even though it hurt, I was taking this pain for the greater good. I was a martyr.
Like I said. Pathetic.
I texted Rachel asking about Paisley, and she told me she’d spoken to her pediatrician, who said to bring her in on Tuesday for a check-up but as long as the fever stayed under a hundred he wasn’t too concerned. Rachel promised to text me an update sometime this evening, and I messaged her back with my firm’s address, telling her I’d meet her there at nine AM. I also emailed my boss and said I’d be back to work earlier than expected.
After that, I forced myself out of bed and dragged my ass to the gym. I did not want to be the guy who lays around in bed feeling sorry for himself. I worked out hard, and it felt good to punish my body. It took my mind off the ache of missing Paisley and Emme. It also gave me back a piece of my former self. I’d missed working out, missed spending time by myself on myself, missed feeling strong and capable and good at something. I watched myself in the mirror, sweat dripping from my skin, muscles flexing, body hard and tense, and I felt like me again. I probably spent two solid hours there. When I was done, I grabbed a shower and some food at the gym’s cafe, still riding high.
Back at my apartment building however, the story changed.
In the hallway outside Emme’s door, I listened carefully to see if I could hear anything inside, but it didn’t sound as if she was home. Disappointed, I let myself into my apartment. It was probably a good thing that I needed to find a new place to live. Even if she didn’t hate me, we were never going to be friends again like we were before. I fucking hated that.
I spent the rest of the evening doing laundry, cleaning up my apartment, and trying not to look at the baby furniture I’d bought. It seemed way too quiet, so I turned on CNN, but the news was depressing. I ended up turning it off and going to bed early.
Up in my bedroom, I lay in bed on my back, hands behind my head. The room seemed so empty. Why was that? I’d spent plenty of nights in bed alone. I liked my alone time. It was part of what I missed about my old life, wasn’t it?
But I found myself looking at the little sleeper next to the bed and missing the daughter who’d turned my life upside down. Maybe I hadn’t been the perfect dad right out of the gate, but I was the only father she had. Okay, trying to do an entire month all by myself had been a stupid move—especially since I had never even changed a diaper before—but I’d learned a lot and I’d keep trying. Tomorrow, I’d ask Rachel if I could have her back over the weekend.
Although I prayed I’d never actually have to do that rectal thermometer thing.
When sleep continued to elude me, I couldn’t help reaching for the pillow next to me and bringing it to my face. Inhaling deeply, I searched for any trace of the woman who’d made me so happy these last couple weeks. Who’d brought out a new side in me. Who’d made me love her.
And it was there—the scent of her hair.
I breathed in slowly, again and again, torturing myself with the memory of her until I couldn’t stand it and threw the pillow to the floor. Wallowing was not going to help me get over this and move forward. I needed to refocus on the things that mattered, the things I could control: looking for a new apartment, arranging custody with Rachel, getting back to work, keeping fit.
Sooner or later my feelings would catch up.
On Monday, Rachel and I filed the affidavit and I got to spend a little time with Paisley. I showed her off at the office, and even though I didn’t like how everyone kept saying how surprised they were to see how good I was with her, I felt like a proud dad. When it was time for them to go, I walked with Rachel to her car.
“When can I see her again?” I asked once I’d buckled Paisley in and kissed her goodbye.
“This weekend?” she offered. “Assuming she’s feeling good, I mean.”
I nodded. “Should I drive to Battle Creek to pick her up?”
“Oh! Uh, I only fall in love with assholes.” That hadn’t been what I’d planned to say, but Maren had me flustered. Thankfully, everyone laughed, even Harmony and my sister. “Sorry,” I said, holding up two hands. “I probably could have phrased that more elegantly. I’m failing at life today.”
“The truth isn’t always elegant,” said Harmony. “And I like your honesty and self-awareness. Look at those things as triumphs.”
After we all voiced our most nagging negative thoughts, Harmony explained that we needed to change the way we thought and felt about ourselves in order to change the frequency at which we were vibrating in the universe. I managed not to roll my eyes, but let Maren know with a giant sigh how I felt. She elbowed me again. “Just go with it, okay? For me, if not for yourself?”
“Fine. For you. But you owe me a real smoothie for this. Not one with kale in it.”
“Deal.”
So for the next twenty minutes, I listened to Harmony explain how positive affirmations could help us change our frequencies. She then gave each of us suggestions based on our individual needs. For Maren, she suggested something like I am a positive contribution to this world. For me, she suggested I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship.
I kind of liked it.
“So? What did you think?” Maren asked as we sat sipping our smoothies.
“I thought the thing about our vibrations in the universe was a bunch of hooey, but the rest of it kind of made sense. I felt bad when everyone was voicing their negative thoughts.”
She nodded. “Same.”
“Do you really feel that way?” I asked her. “Like you don’t really matter to the world?”
“Sometimes.” She looked down at her smoothie. “I often struggle with what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. When I was dancing, I felt like I really had purpose. I was creating something. But I’ve sort of been wandering since then.”
“But you have a job you love, and you have peace and balance and inner homeogenius.”
That made her smile. “Homeostasis.”
I smiled back, then I tilted my head. “It really surprises me that you feel that way.”
Her cheeks went a little pink. “I do have all those things, and it feels really first world of me to complain that I don’t have purpose in life when so many people in the world are suffering. I think that might be it—I’d like to do something outside myself, something bigger. I just don’t know what.”
“You’ll figure it out, Maren,” I said, putting a hand on hers. “You’re destined for something great. I know it.” It made me feel a little better actually, to think that someone as comfortable with herself as Maren seemed had her own brand of self-doubt. Not that I wanted my sister to feel bad, but something about knowing she occasionally did made me feel less alone.
Later on, when I was pouring myself a glass of wine and waiting for my frozen Lean Cuisine Enchilada Verde to cook, I tried out my positive affirmation. “I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship,” I said aloud. It felt a little weird, but I did it again anyway. “I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship.”
I repeated it again as I rinsed my dishes and put them in the dishwasher. And again as I brushed my teeth. And again as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Did it make me feel less sad about Nate? No. I missed his voice and his smile and his arms around me so badly, it was a struggle not to break down and give my pillow another good soak.
However, I did start to believe it, and feel slightly better about my decision to stand up for myself and let him know that what he did was not okay. I deserved better in life, and it was up to me to go after it.
The next morning, I texted my cousin Mia that I’d thought about it long enough, and I’d decided to accept her offer.
Twenty
Nate
I slept on and off the first half of Sunday, alternating naps with periods of self-loathing and regret. There was a decent amount of self-pity as well, which was sort of pathetic and disgusting, but I kept telling myself that I’d done what I had to, everyone was better off, and even though it hurt, I was taking this pain for the greater good. I was a martyr.
Like I said. Pathetic.
I texted Rachel asking about Paisley, and she told me she’d spoken to her pediatrician, who said to bring her in on Tuesday for a check-up but as long as the fever stayed under a hundred he wasn’t too concerned. Rachel promised to text me an update sometime this evening, and I messaged her back with my firm’s address, telling her I’d meet her there at nine AM. I also emailed my boss and said I’d be back to work earlier than expected.
After that, I forced myself out of bed and dragged my ass to the gym. I did not want to be the guy who lays around in bed feeling sorry for himself. I worked out hard, and it felt good to punish my body. It took my mind off the ache of missing Paisley and Emme. It also gave me back a piece of my former self. I’d missed working out, missed spending time by myself on myself, missed feeling strong and capable and good at something. I watched myself in the mirror, sweat dripping from my skin, muscles flexing, body hard and tense, and I felt like me again. I probably spent two solid hours there. When I was done, I grabbed a shower and some food at the gym’s cafe, still riding high.
Back at my apartment building however, the story changed.
In the hallway outside Emme’s door, I listened carefully to see if I could hear anything inside, but it didn’t sound as if she was home. Disappointed, I let myself into my apartment. It was probably a good thing that I needed to find a new place to live. Even if she didn’t hate me, we were never going to be friends again like we were before. I fucking hated that.
I spent the rest of the evening doing laundry, cleaning up my apartment, and trying not to look at the baby furniture I’d bought. It seemed way too quiet, so I turned on CNN, but the news was depressing. I ended up turning it off and going to bed early.
Up in my bedroom, I lay in bed on my back, hands behind my head. The room seemed so empty. Why was that? I’d spent plenty of nights in bed alone. I liked my alone time. It was part of what I missed about my old life, wasn’t it?
But I found myself looking at the little sleeper next to the bed and missing the daughter who’d turned my life upside down. Maybe I hadn’t been the perfect dad right out of the gate, but I was the only father she had. Okay, trying to do an entire month all by myself had been a stupid move—especially since I had never even changed a diaper before—but I’d learned a lot and I’d keep trying. Tomorrow, I’d ask Rachel if I could have her back over the weekend.
Although I prayed I’d never actually have to do that rectal thermometer thing.
When sleep continued to elude me, I couldn’t help reaching for the pillow next to me and bringing it to my face. Inhaling deeply, I searched for any trace of the woman who’d made me so happy these last couple weeks. Who’d brought out a new side in me. Who’d made me love her.
And it was there—the scent of her hair.
I breathed in slowly, again and again, torturing myself with the memory of her until I couldn’t stand it and threw the pillow to the floor. Wallowing was not going to help me get over this and move forward. I needed to refocus on the things that mattered, the things I could control: looking for a new apartment, arranging custody with Rachel, getting back to work, keeping fit.
Sooner or later my feelings would catch up.
On Monday, Rachel and I filed the affidavit and I got to spend a little time with Paisley. I showed her off at the office, and even though I didn’t like how everyone kept saying how surprised they were to see how good I was with her, I felt like a proud dad. When it was time for them to go, I walked with Rachel to her car.
“When can I see her again?” I asked once I’d buckled Paisley in and kissed her goodbye.
“This weekend?” she offered. “Assuming she’s feeling good, I mean.”
I nodded. “Should I drive to Battle Creek to pick her up?”
