I couldn’t sleep that night, there was too much in my head demanding attention. Patrick had gone to bed almost immediately after his confession and I let him be, it was clear he needed space and would open up when he was ready. Jon seemed about ready to throttle somebody and kept his distance from me, choosing to go work out before bed. I tried slipping in beside Patrick after he dozed off but I couldn’t lie still, eventually, I just gave up and went and sat in the living room. I had already texted Allie that I made it home but she hadn’t responded. Part of me was disappointed, the more reasonable half understood that she was having a fun night out, but still, I wished she was here right now. Or Maritza. The thought was surprising but not unwelcome, she was someone I felt like I could trust right now.
I stared down at my phone, my thumb hovering over her name in my contacts. I couldn’t shake our conversation and was half tempted to ask her to go with me to the clinic, or even just to buy a home test. I wouldn’t feel better until I had seen a negative myself. I probably wouldn’t sleep much until then as well. Taking a deep breath I hit her name and waited before curling up on the sofa and closing my eyes. I hadn’t felt this alone in a long time.
“Lydia, baby, wake up.”
I groaned and rubbed sleep out of my eyes, my back ached and as I rolled over I realized I had spent the entire night on the couch, and judging from the light streaming through the window, it was sometime in the afternoon. Patrick was crouching in front of me, watching intently and smiling.
“I didn’t want to wake you, but Jon and I are going out for a little while. You’ll be alright on your own, won’t you?”
I nodded wordlessly and made a face, my mouth tasted awful. “I’m guessing I’m not invited either way,” I answered hoarsely.
A shadow passed across Patrick’s face before he seemed to collect himself. “It’s just boring stuff, you wouldn’t be interested – I promise.”
I didn’t believe him, not in the slightest. “It’s fine, I guess I’ll see you guys later. Do you think you’ll be home for dinner?”
He shrugged and adjusted his cufflinks as he straightened and I sat up. “I’ll text you, or call, but I’m not sure yet…”
I nodded and shoved my hands into my sweater pockets. We stood watching each other in silence; I could see the obvious hurt and uncertainty in Patrick’s gaze, the way his eyes were heavy and almost downcast, and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth that made my heartache. I wanted to reach for him, but I wasn’t letting this go. They had purposely left me out of the loop, and if I hadn’t come home last night I would still be in the dark. The worst part was seeing that neither was interested in talking about it now, even though I knew at least some of what was going on.
More than anything though, I felt gutted that Patrick hadn’t told me because this was clearly because of me. If I hadn’t been flaunting our relationship then we wouldn’t be here right now, and if they were planning on shipping Patrick off for inter-office-relations, then what would they do with me? I couldn’t think about that right now, I had more than enough on my plate to worry about.
“I don’t want you to hate me forever,” he said quietly. “I feel like I can’t do anything right and that I’m chasing you away, but I’m not trying to.”
I swallowed and looked down at my hands, peeking out from beneath my pastel-pink sweater were my platinum bands, glinting in the light as if to remind me how I ended up here in the first place. “I know that, Pat. But it’s hard to believe when you purposely keep me in the dark. I need you to be honest with me, especially when it comes to things that will involve me.”
“I’m sorry,” he answered, stepping closer and grasping my hands in his. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, Lydia, really, I do. I just can’t. I’m under a tight NDA, and I’ve had to keep people at a distance because things are going back to the board and I know that people are watching me. I’m going to tell you everything when I can, I promise, no matter what. I don’t want you to think I’m keeping things from you for nothing – I’m doing it because when I go to court I need to keep you as far away from the fallback as possible.”
Court? For what? I wasn’t stupid, I knew there were shady dealings in the office, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of anything that Patrick had done or been a part of. Tears seeped down my cheeks and I sniffled. He pulled me in for a tight hug and I clung to him, grabbing his jacket in my fists and letting my tears soak into his lapels.
Jon came downstairs a short while later and I walked the two of them out, the older man pausing for an instant to kiss my cheek and promising to take us all out for dinner later. I nodded along, forcing myself to smile and wave as they boarded the elevator and left. The moment they were gone I was dialling Maritza and checking the emergency clinic.
***
“I hate hospitals,” Maritza mumbled as she glanced anxiously around the waiting room.
“
“It’s a clinic, not a hospital,” I pointed out unhelpfully. “And it’s not like you’re the one that’s about to have their innards poked around in.”
Maritza suddenly looked pale and I had to suppress my laughter. “Please don’t say that again.”
I smirked and glanced down at my clipboard again. We had been here for nearly thirty minutes now, and with every second that passed, I got closer to just up and running back out the doors. I probably would’ve by now if Mari didn’t have her hand firmly clamped on my forearm as she nervously looked around the space.
“Lydia Morrison?”
My head snapped up at the sound of my name, an older woman stood at the door and beckoned me into the office. I followed her down the corridor, Maritza waited behind at my request – as much as I wanted and needed moral support, I didn’t want to do anything this personal with her in the room.
Sue, the nurse practitioner, asked me a million questions that I answered without pause. Eventually, I ended up peeing in a cup and had my blood taken, I was left alone in the office while they did whatever they had to do with it all, my anxiety started to mount and my foot bounced so much that my leg was getting tired.
I must have sat there for another half hour before she returned looking concerned with her brow furrowed and paperwork clutched tightly. She explained in depth the results, most of which I didn’t understand and what I did I couldn’t process, I just nodded and said ‘okay’ when it seemed like I needed to talk. However, my attention snapped into sharp focus as she had me stretch out on the bed and put my feet in stirrups.
“It looks scary, but it’s not bad, and it’ll only be a minute,” Sue assured as she waved the intervaginal probe around like a magic wand.
“Thank god,” I muttered as I stared at the ceiling. At least she’s not prying my cervix open. Getting my IUD had hurt, but if this wasn’t going that deep then I’d survive, though I still felt my hands getting cold and clammy.
I tuned her out as I watched the little screen, my insides felt hollow as I waited for the harsh confirmation of my fears. This wasn’t how I had ever seen things going, and in the nearly five years that I had my IUD, I never thought I would end up as one of the statistics.
I didn’t realize that I was crying until Sue handed me a tissue and assured me that it was early enough that I wasn’t in immediate danger, the injection they planned on giving me would be the best course of action – apparently. Therapeutic abortion, she called it, a necessary medical procedure to prevent my fallopian tube from rupturing if my body didn’t absorb the embryo.
When she asked about the IUD I told her to take it out – this was haunting, and I couldn’t imagine ever having to come back here again and I didn’t want to add to the risk. After everything was said and done I left an hour later with a refilled prescription for my anti-anxiety meds, a new prescription for low dose sleeping pills, and a few brochures on what to expect, therapy, and coping with pregnancy loss. She also sent information to my therapist and lectured me about the importance of going and talking to someone. Despite feeling like a child being scolded, I agreed and gathered my things before rejoining Maritza in the waiting room.
“Dia,” she murmured and pulled me into a tight embrace. “How are you?”
I started sobbing uncontrollably, clinging to the taller girl and completely oblivious to the other people around me. I knew I must have been scaring the several pregnant women, but I couldn’t stop. Maritza on the other hand had her shit together and quickly ushered us into the waiting Uber.
“What am I supposed to tell him?” I asked, my voice cracking and tears running in a constant stream down my face and neck. “How am I supposed to talk about this?”
“I don’t know,” she answered softly, her hand soft and warm as she held mine. “But you’ll know when you’re ready to talk about it – you don’t have to do anything else right away.”
I offered a shaky smile but inside I knew I had to tell both of them sooner rather than later if I didn’t it would just start eating at me. They keep things from me though. That wasn’t a fair thought, I knew that but I agreed with it – I shouldn’t feel guilty about keeping things from them since it felt like they were always keeping things from me.
“I want to go home,” I told her as we approached Jon’s building. “I know you’re staying here, but I’m gonna go back to Queen’s tonight.”
She nodded and gave my hand a final squeeze before grabbing her orange Birkin bag as we came to a stop in front of the doorman. “I get it, don’t worry. If you want someone to talk to, you have my number, and, well, you know where I’m staying.”
I tried to laugh but it was clearly fake, Mari smiled anyway and waved as she jogged up the steps. I watched her go, her plum tunic top fluttering in the light breeze and sequined silver tights sparkling in the sun. It was unfair to think it, but I couldn’t help the way the green-eyed monster reared it’s ugly head and whispered about the injustice of the rich girl having everything in the world and seemingly never facing any real problems. Maybe she did have issues, but right now I felt horribly cheated and wronged.
New tears started to burn as I thought more about it and I forced myself to ignore the nasty thoughts, instead, trying to focus on the music in the car while I texted the guys.
5:27 PM
Change of plans. I’m going back to my apartment; it’s been a long day.
Immediately afterward I set my phone to do not disturb, not wanting to talk about it further and not willing to let them talk me out of it. Maybe that was petty, but I felt like I deserved to be a little petty after today. Carefully I tucked my phone away and leaned my head against the window as the car wove jerkily through traffic, willing myself to focus on Johnny Cash’s voice crooning from the speakers around me.
My apartment was exactly as I left it – messy and cold. Clothing was strewn around the living room, different pieces covering the couch cushions, and even more spilling out of my closet. The whole place was freezing as well, my bedroom door had been left open and now my air conditioner was pumping cold air full force through the confined space.
I ignored the clutter and dragged myself straight to bed, pulling the thick comforter up around me and staring across the room to the exposed brick wall, a tiny sliver of light cast on it from between the black-out curtains. A light in the dark. I had to wonder how long it would be before I saw my light, because for weeks now it had felt like never-ending drama and darkness trying to swallow me up.
I spent the next five or so hours moving between dozing, crying, and laying there staring blankly. Eventually, I had to pull myself out of bed, both to use the bathroom and to figure out what I was going to eat. I felt ravenous, my stomach growling loudly in protest as I went to the bathroom first. I tightened the drawstring on my sweat pants and set out to clean a pot. Another part of almost never being home was that I let dirty dishes accumulate, at least I could work on stuff tonight without interference.
I sat down on the plush sofa with a massive bowl of macaroni and cheese, set up Netflix on my laptop and finally pulled out my phone. There were eight missed phone calls, and twelve texts – 2 from Allie, the rest from Jon and Patrick.
5:46 PM Jon
Are you okay? Maritza said you were with her this afternoon, she said you were upset but wouldn’t tell me anything else.
5:47 PM Patrick
Please answer your phone, sweetheart. I just want to know that you’re okay.
6:01 PM Allie
Hey, babe, I’m not sure how he got my number, but James Spader just called and I wanted to check on you – he said you were upset. Call me.
On and on the messages went, along with the voicemails. Patrick’s voice had clear fear and panic in it. I sighed and swept my hair back, focusing on my food for a few minutes before dialling his number in resignation. It only rang once before he answered.
“Lydia? Are you okay?” he asked frantically.
“I’m at my apartment,” I answered, avoiding the question. “I just need some time alone right now—”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. “I’m so sorry for not talking to you before now but—”
“Not everything is about you,” I snapped, pushing the bowl off my lap and onto the cushion beside me before I shot off the couch. “I’m allowed to have my own problems without you.” Anger made my face hot and as I became more embittered, I decided to twist the knife. “I realize that you think the entire world revolves around you, but sometimes people have their own issues – and right now, mine isn’t going to be resolved with sex or a date or an apology that you pulled out of your ass.”
There was dead silence, just the quiet hitch of his breathing. When he finally spoke he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “Is this it then?” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ve tried so hard to give you everything you wanted – you wanted to stop sleeping with other people despite it being the one thing that I wanted, and I agreed, you wanted Jon back in and I agreed even though I wasn’t happy, you wanted to be romantically involved with both of us and I went along with it. I’ve tried so hard to make you happy and you keep increasing your demands. How am I supposed to keep up with this? Why can’t you understand that for the sake of my career, and everything else in my life, I had to stay quiet?”
“I didn’t say that,” I protested shrilly. “I have had what has to be the worst day of my life, and you’re still trying to make this about you!”
I burst into tears again and sunk onto the couch. Patrick was saying something I couldn’t hear and I hung up without a word. I didn’t want this to be over, I wasn’t ready for it to be over, I just needed at least one night alone to cope. My phone started ringing – an unknown caller. Jon. I knew instantly it was his number, he never had his caller ID on.
“I need time alone,” I pleaded desperately as I answered. “I need tonight and maybe tomorrow. Please just give me that instead of bombarding me and my friends with calls and texts.”
“I’m not asking you to come back to the apartment,” he soothed, his voice soft and concerned. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, we’ll be here when you’re ready to talk, dove. If you need anything just let me know. Do you have the card?”
The black card. I nodded despite knowing he couldn’t see me. “I do,” I answered, calming down. “Jon, I–” I stopped, my throat tightening as I choked on my words. “I don’t want to be alone right now, but I don’t where to go and I just can’t go back to Pat’s tonight. You understand, don’t you?”
“I do,” he assured. “And like I told you – we’re here when you’re ready. And I’m only a phone call away.”
I sniffled loudly and thanked him, he stayed on the phone for another minute, Patrick joined him to say goodnight and I promised to call in the morning. Jon had clearly taken on the role of mediator in our relationship since Patrick and I were too emotional to do it ourselves. I would never be able to thank him enough for knowing how to placate us both.
After collecting myself, I called Allie.
“Hey,” she answered, sounding relieved. “Is everything alright? James Spader sounded really panicked…”
“Jon,” I corrected, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. “Either Jon or Patrick, I don’t want you to call them James Spader anymore.”
She laughed. “Oh, come on, Lydia – it’s in good fun, I’m not trying to be a bitch about it.”
“I don’t care, Allie. Please just call them by their names, they’re a part of my life no matter how gross you find it.”
“You’re in one of your moods,” she replied, an edge creeping into her voice. “I hate when you get like this.”
“Wow.” I came to a halt in front of the living room window and swept my hair back, trying to hold back my frustration. “What was the worst thing you had to do today, Allie? Did you go to your rich girlfriend’s house and watch movies, or did you go shopping with your parent's credit card? Or maybe you decided to buy another several-thousand-dollar purse that will collect dust in your closet?”
“You have no idea what I did—”
I interrupted her, my voice deathly quiet, “Want to know what I did today? I went to the clinic and was told I was pregnant and left being not pregnant. My boyfriend told me he’s going to court, and yesterday I was told he’s going to move to Japan, permanently.” I paused and waited for her to respond, when she didn’t I continued, “Maybe I’m allowed to have a shitty attitude or be in a bad mood once in a while.”
“You could have called me,” she said finally. “I would’ve gone with you, Dia, I wouldn’t want you to go through that alone. Why didn’t you call me?”
I didn’t have an answer for her. Not one that she wanted to hear anyway, it just seemed like lately, her world revolved around Vicki. Like my world has revolved around Patrick and Jon.
“You can’t do this to me over and over, Dia. I don’t know how you expect me to put up with this constant bullshit of not talking to me and then getting mad about it,” Allie said exasperatedly. “I can’t be there for you when you purposely cut me out.”
“I have to go,” I told her. “I’m fine. The guys won’t call you again, I asked them not to…”
There was a sigh before she wished me goodnight and we disconnected. I sat back down on the couch and felt another wave of tears coming on. I hated fighting with her, even more that I knew I started that one. I was being needlessly mean, and as much as I didn’t like that either, it felt good to get my emotions out. I just prayed that she would still talk to me when I was ready to admit that I had been an asshole to her.