Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Trevor
Even though we’ve been in contact, I haven’t told Chuck and Dawn about the baby yet. I don’t think Ava has either. They would have said something to me for sure. Encouraged me to be the stand-up guy everyone tells me I used to be.
Should I even have to be responsible for a woman who got pregnant without my knowledge? Maybe I should hire a lawyer and see what my options are.
But I’m smart enough to know it would be the end of things if I went there.
Am I prepared to end things?
There’s one thing that keeps me from doing it.
What if I wake up tomorrow and get my memory back?
What would I think of all this? It’s a thought that has plagued me for two weeks.
If what everyone is telling me is true—that I wanted to be a father so darned bad—what would happen if I divorce her and distance myself from a kid I’m not ready for, then wake up one day regretting it all, wanting it back, only for her to have moved on?
What would the old Trevor do?
I know it’s what everyone in Calloway Creek would be thinking if they knew.
It’s why I had to get away. Get out of the place where there were so many expectations.
Here, in the middle of nowhere, nobody is trying to tell me who I should or shouldn’t be.
And it’s amazing how much I’ve accomplished without all that noise in my head.
I’ve made a lot of progress toward renewing my paramedic certification.
Thank goodness there’s good Wifi here. After a few days of using just my phone, I drove to the nearest town and bought a laptop.
Now, I’m halfway through training and have even put out feelers on what it would take to be a doctor again.
I’ve contacted the state board of medicine, who told me my situation is very unique—ya think?
—and I’d have to undergo extensive neuropsychological testing to make sure I’m cognitively intact apart from the amnesia.
They’ll also require me to take the medical board exam along with all the specialty exams I’d taken in the past.
So now, in addition to the paramedic training, I’m studying for all that—even if it’ll be a long time before any of it will happen due to all the red tape. Good thing all I have is time.
My phone pings with a text. It’s another one from Ava.
They aren’t coming as frequently as they did a few weeks ago, when she was texting or calling several times a day.
I’ve ignored them all, not bothering to read most of them.
They all say the same thing. I’m sorry. Can we talk? You wanted this, Trevor.
Again, telling me what I wanted. I’m tired of it. What about what I want now? Has anyone stopped to ask me that?
Fuck!
The worst part about it all? I thought I knew. Had finally figured it out. I wanted to go back to work. To make a difference. And I wanted her. Everything seemed to be on track.
And then she had to go ruin all the progress we’d made.
Headlights stream through the front windows. Shit. Is it her? Did Carter cave and tell her where to find me? I’m not ready to face her yet. I still have so much to figure out.
I ignore the knock.
“Dude, I know you’re here. I drove all this way, can you open up?”
It’s Carter.
Relief flows through me. I’m not sure what I would have done had it been Ava.
I know she’s hurting. I know I didn’t react the way she hoped I would have.
And I don’t want to upset her further, which is surely what I’d do by asking her to leave and give me more time.
I may not want the same things she wants, but I’m not a complete monster.
I open the door then grab a beer and offer one to Carter.
He waves it off. “I’m only here to deliver this.”
He holds out a box. I know what it is. It’s Ava’s box of letters. My letters.
When I don’t take it, he says, “She warned me you might want to burn them instead of read them.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“Nope.”
I motion to the couch. “Have a seat.”
He checks the time. “I told Christian I’d be back by ten.”
“Ava’s pregnant.”
His eyebrows touch the ceiling. “Oh, wow.” He takes in my expression and finally sits. “I’m guessing it was accidental. But, damn, all that time you guys tried and it happens now?”
“It wasn’t accidental.”
I spend the next few minutes explaining everything to him.
It feels good to get it off my chest. Like all these feelings had been bottled up inside, the pressure ratcheting up to dangerous levels, and now I popped the top and the chaos has been released.
I’m glad to have a friend. Someone to confide in.
“Jesus.” He shakes his head. Just when I think he’s about to agree with my actions, he narrows his eyes. “What was it about me saying ‘do better’ did you not fucking understand, man?”
“Um… come again?”
“Listen, I get where you’re coming from.
You have no idea how you felt about her, having a family, or anything.
But the fact is, whether you remember or not, you did want a family, and you would have been so goddamn happy to find out she was pregnant, even if she did the embryo thing without telling you.
She did it with all the best intentions.
She wasn’t trying to trick you or trap you.
She was doing what you wanted. She was trying to make your fucking dreams come true.
“And yeah, Trev, you might be a different guy now, but who the hell cares when there’s a tiny human at stake? What if you’d already had kids? Would you be turning your back on them just because you never remembered wanting them? Maybe it’s time to pull your head out of your ass and man up.”
He shoves the box into my hands and storms to the door.
Before he slams it shut, he says, “I’m evicting you. Go lick your wounds somewhere else. I want my keys and car back by this weekend.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Do fucking better.”
I hear his car kick up rocks when he peels out, and I wonder if we always had the kind of relationship where we’d tell each other shit the other didn’t necessarily want to hear. Or is this new because of how fucked up I am?
Feeling the entire universe is against me right now, I do actually contemplate burning the box of letters that represent someone I no longer am.
Throwing them on the grill, dousing them with lighter fluid, and watching my old world go up in flames.
Then again, I did write the letters. And even though I’m sick of other people telling me who I was, maybe there’s one person I should listen to. Me.