Kerry: Booze? Ice cream? Tissues?
Jenna: Oh no. I’m on it.
Jenna showed up twenty minutes later with two pints of Ben & Jerrys and a bottle of Crown Royal. “I’m yours for the night. Let’s get drunk and watch the Ghostbusters remake. Kate McKinnon makes everything better.”
Kerry burst into tears.
From her purse, Jenna yanked a box of tissues. “Maybe I should have started with these. What happened?”
In halting, sniff-interrupted half-sentences, Kerry gave her the Coles Notes version. Jenna listened, and when Kerry finally finished, she poured them each a drink, and grabbed a couple of spoons.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to break up with him. I have to. It’s the only option.”
“Are you sure?”
Kerry wanted the answer to be different, but she was certain. “If anything, this cements it as the inevitable end to our relationship. He didn’t tell me he couldn’t have kids. We didn’t have the communication we should have, maybe because we both knew, deep down, that if we did, we wouldn’t be together. But I know now, more than ever, that I definitely do want kids, so… this is it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. He’s a great guy.”
“There are other fish in the pond.”
“Yep.” Kerry shoved a big spoonful of Cherry Garcia in her mouth. She wasn’t interested in going fishing any time soon, though.
* * *
She didit the next day. She thought about doing it by text, but he deserved better than that, so she drove past his house to make sure he was home and alone, and then called him from her car a block away.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Hello, you. I miss you. Want to come over?”
Oh God.“I can’t.”
“Damn.”
“Owen—”
“I was thinking—”
“Owen, stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need you to listen to me.” Her voice was shaking. “Please. Just listen to me.”
“You’ve got my attention, sweetheart.”
No pet names. Not now.“I need to take some time to myself. It’s not you, it’s me, and I’ve thought about it. I promise I’ve thought about it, and I’m sorry. But I can’t come over, or hang out, or have you to my place. I need space, and I need you to respect that.”
“Kerry.” His voice cracked as he said her name and she couldn’t handle that.
She whispered that she had to go, and she hung up the call. It wasn’t her finest hour. It was sad and desperate and weak, and she couldn’t do any better than that.I’m so sorry, Owen.
