31. 7 Years Ago
Chapter thirty-one
Iwas overcome with sudden nausea at the revelation, but it was just instinct, really.
I knew Matt for almost my whole life; we could read each other’s expressions without a second thought.
Most girls would press for information, but there was so much at stake, and I wasn’t quite ready to give up the last potential moments of normalcy I might be able to hang on to this summer. Plus, we still had cleaning up to do.
“Come on,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s put all this stuff away and go back to your house.”
Matt nodded in agreement.
We loaded the projector, screen, laptop, folding chairs, and discarded candles into the back of Matt’s pickup, and he tossed me the keys so that he could drive the wagon back up the hill and return it to the farm.
Sitting in the driver’s seat of his truck, I inhaled, letting the mixture of fabric softener, cigarette smoke, and Matt’s cologne embrace me.
I closed my eyes, quietly acknowledging that nothing smelled more like home.
Holding back tears, I surprised myself by wishing I had just one more dose of medication I could take, something that could blur the fiery, painful edges of the bullet headed straight for my heart.
Ironic, I thought. All this time, I just wanted to feel again.
After dropping the equipment off in Pat’s office and locking up, I drove back to the farm to meet Matt.
We switched seats and he turned on the music, undoubtedly trying to drown out the endless conversations in his own mind.
We entered the Gate House in silence, and as he flipped on the lights, I excused myself to use the bathroom.
I didn’t have to go, despite the nagging urge to vomit.
I splashed water on my face and eyeballed myself in the mirror.
The reflection looking back at me was a combination of the little girl I’d once been and the woman I was becoming.
I dried off with Matt’s towel, which hung from the back of the door.
It’s time, the reflection seemed to say.
I emerged from the bathroom to find Matt in the kitchen, puttering about between the fridge and the pantry.
“You want a snack?” he asked. “We’ve got ice cream, chips—oh, I could heat up the leftover pizza from the other night.”
I shook my head. “Come sit with me,” I said, taking a seat on the living room couch.
My calm stopped him. He put the chips down on the counter and his expression shifted, serious now. He sat beside me.
I took a deep, brave breath and closed my eyes. “She’s keeping it?” I asked.
I heard Matt swallow. When I opened my eyes again, he was looking at me. He nodded weakly.
“When did you find out?”
“A little while ago. She called.”
Breathe in. Count to five. One. Two. Brace yourself.
“I don’t know what to say,” he went on.
Three. Four. This is the part where he breaks up with you.
“I wish she would have chosen differently,” he said, shaking his head.
Five. “You can’t say that,” I replied.
“It’s the truth, though. I know it sounds awful, but it’s true.”
“But that baby is yours. You can’t wish it away.”
“It was a mistake, Taylor. All I care about is you. Us,” his voice cracked.
“I know,” I mumbled. That poor little baby. What a way to start a life, already having a father who doesn’t want you.
“But I’ve been thinking about it. I’ll do the right thing, you’ll see. I’ll get a second job, send Leyla money. It’ll be a workaround. It doesn’t have to change anything with us.”
You can’t just pretend your child doesn’t exist.
“I mean it. I’ve spent a lot of time preparing for this the past few weeks.”
“Yeah?” I asked, weakly.
“Yeah. I figure that with my schedule, I could bartend or wait tables one night a week. Whatever money I make on the side could go straight to Leyla and the baby. You could move in with me, and it wouldn’t impact us at all financially.”
“Move in with you?”
“Of course. I love you. Besides, you're not going to live in Green Pines forever.”
While the baby grows up without a father. “And what would I do?”
“Whatever you want! Pat’s going to retire soon—he’s been grooming you for his job all summer. You’d be great at that job.”
I nodded. You have to really look out for the eight-weekers.
“See? It’ll be just fine.”
“And what will Leyla do? Raise your baby all by herself?”
“She’ll be fine. I mean, I’m sure it won’t be easy, but this is her choice, right?”
We don’t get to choose who our parents are. But they get to choose us into existence. I closed my eyes at the unfairness of it all. “The baby deserves better than that, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
I gulped. “I mean, you’re better than that.”
He scowled, out of words.
“You know how important it is for a baby to have a father, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“No. No buts. Every child deserves a mom and dad who will love it and try their best to take care of it and raise it.”
“I agree, but this is a decision she’s making! She didn’t even ask me for my opinion!”
“Because you would have told her to end the pregnancy. And who knows? Maybe she loves the baby already! It’s growing inside her body,” I pointed out.
“But I don’t love the baby! I only love you! I’m sorry, Taylor, but I’m not trying to have this be my problem!”
If this child ends up fatherless, it will be my fault.
The revelation nearly knocked me sideways.
I took another deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind. Blurry answers spun around inside my head, making me dizzy. “I love you, too,” I said.
“Then that’s it. It’s settled,” Matt reached for my hand.
I stopped arguing, knowing Matt wasn’t in a clear enough head space to hear what I was saying.
And Leyla wasn’t giving birth tomorrow, so it wasn’t a fight we needed to finish at that exact moment.
I tried to push everything out of my mind as he leaned in and kissed me, wishing I didn’t love him so much, wishing I could walk away as easily as some fathers walk away from their mistakes.
Matt stood up and led me to the bedroom.
I didn’t fight how much I wanted to feel him inside me, to push away the future and the fact that he was better than this, that I knew it and that he would figure it out soon enough.
So, I let him take me, first by the hand, then by the hips.
I let him take my breath away, even if only for the moment, branding my body with his devotion in a way that no man ever would again.
I knew it, even in that moment, feeling my soulmate slip through my fingers like water. Nobody could ever replace Matt Thompson in my heart.
He clung to me, moving in the exact way my body needed him to, until I cried out and we erupted into one another, a tidal wave of desire and fear and sorrow and ultimately, love.
~
The next day, the school buses arrived at 9:00 a.m., right on time.
Luggage was piled up in front of the rec hall in messy stacks.
Campers hugged each other and their counselors, exchanging e-mail addresses and phone numbers in an earnest attempt to keep the Sound Hollow magic alive into September.
The air was electric with anxiety, and as sad as the kids were to leave, they were equally excited to go home and see their parents.
I hated watching them all go. Lots of campers made it a point to say goodbye to me, sharing hugs and selfies.
Mackenzie wrote me a letter, which she told me not to open until I was alone later.
I promised to keep in touch with her, a promise I knew I would keep, no matter what.
Then, I stood among Pat and the counselors and waved the buses goodbye, our arms in the air until they turned the corner onto the main road and out of sight.
The staff indulged in a moment of conflicting, palpable emotions, ranging from tears and hugs to clapping and cheering. We did it! The summer was a success, and now it was really coming to an end.
I had to hold it together, tempting as it was to succumb to the lump in my throat.
Matt wasn’t around; he spent the morning closing the visitors’ washhouse, which was probably for the best because one look at him and I would have lost it.
Instead, I consulted my clipboard and doled out cleanup assignments to my staff.
We had one full day to clean followed by the end-of-summer party that night.
As the counselors scattered like ants, I felt my pocket vibrate. I pulled out my cell phone. The number was not one I recognized, but the area code—718—was Queens, that much I knew.
“Hello?”
“Hi! May I speak to Taylor Roberts, please?” a cheerful, female voice asked.
“This is she.”
“Hi, Taylor. My name’s Gabby Rodriguez, and I’m the director of Trinity Youth Services. I’m calling about your application for the job we posted online recently.”
“Oh!” I tried to compose myself and not sound so surprised. “Hi, of course. Thanks for calling.”
“The selection committee was very impressed by your resume, and we’d like to have you come in for an interview.”
An interview! “Sure! I’d be happy to. When were you thinking?”
“Are you free later this week? We have availability Thursday and Friday.”
Camp cleanup ends Thursday. “Friday would be great.”
“Terrific! Can you come by at noon?”
“That’s perfect. Is there anything I should bring?”
“Nope. We’ve got your resume, so I think we’re all set.”
“Okay. I look forward to meeting you.”
“Same here. We’ll see you then.”
I hung up the phone, surprised at the excitement I felt given the vortex of emotions I’d been coping with for the past 24 hours.
I had to go find Matt and tell him the news. I began walking up to the rec field, where I’d parked my car. With my phone still in hand, I was tempted to call my aunt or Jessica, but I didn’t want to end up stuck on a call once I found him. Too eager to wait, I dialed Matt’s number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Guess what?”
“What?”
“I got an interview!”
“Really? That’s great! When? And for what? I didn’t realize you were even applying for jobs.”