Then I hang up and curl into a ball and sob.
eighteen
Violet
Iwrap my sweater around me tighter as I walk across the field to the tree line separating my house and Everett’s.
After crying for about twenty minutes, I picked myself up and saidenough. If I’m going to do this on my own, then I need to plan and think about my steps and choices. It felt good to start to have a plan. While my world may be spinning in the wrong direction, I have to be able to adjust, and making lists gives me a place to start.
The first thing I did was call the OB-GYN, and I was absolutely horrified that they didn’t want to see me for another three to four weeks.
What in the fresh hell is that?
I’m pregnant and they don’t want me to come in right away? I was floored, but they didn’t seem concerned at all.
Now I have three weeks to wonder and worry. I also put worrying about the baby on the list.
The next thing I wrote of importance was to tell Everett it’s over. That my situation has changed, and I can no longer keep having these “tomorrow” days. Tomorrow is gone. It’s now yesterday. The future is going to be a minefield, and I can’t bring another person any further in than I already have.
I did allow the tears to fall as I wrote out that one. I know it’s the logical decision, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
I then have to tell my parents and friends and come up with how I’m going to raise this child on my own.
Somehow.
I get to the front door and knock, but he doesn’t answer.
Oh good, I get to prolong this stress.
Then I hear a very familiar voice. “Hello?”
I turn, coming face-to-face with Mrs. Finnegan. Her soft blue eyes are the same, only they look a little tired. Her hair is almost fully gray now, with slight hints of brown still sprinkled in. She steps forward.
“Hello, Mrs. Finnegan,” I say, my heart aching a little, not sure whether I should say anything to her. “Is Everett here?”
“Yes, he’s ...” She looks back toward the house. “He’s here.”
“Okay. I can wait out here.”
“Mom!” I hear him yell from inside. “Mom! Where are you?”
“I’m at the door,” she says. “You have a friend here. She’s very pretty.”
He pulls the door back and sees me. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Everett, don’t be rude. Introduce me to your friend, and you’re letting all the heat out.”
His smile is soft. “Of course. Mom, you’ve actually met Violet. You haven’t seen her in a long time, though.”
Mrs. Finnegan’s eyes go wide. “Violet Stewart? Is that you?”
“It is.”
“Oh!” She ushers me inside and then pulls me into a hug, holding me to her chest, and those stupid tears that I’ve been really good at keeping at bay for the last three hours come rushing forward. I wrap my arms around her, feeling like a little girl all over again. She rubs my back. “Don’t cry, dear.”
“I’m sorry.” I hiccup. “I’m just ... I’ve missed you and Ember Falls. It’s just ...”
