Starting With You

43. There's plenty of time to deal with my demons later.

Jensen

SHE'S. BACK. SHE'S. BACK. SHE'S BACK. 

Each word in my head is punctuated by my shoes hitting the gravel.

She's. Back. She's. Back. She's. Back.

I can't move past that basic fact. She's back. She's back. She's back.

It's been over a decade since I last saw her. Fourteen years since I sat in that waiting room. Fourteen years since she walked in growing my baby; then walked back out with an empty womb. Fourteen years since she left me alone to grieve with only an undecipherable message in her wake.

It's been fourteen years, yet all that time seemed irrelevant the moment she was in front of me this morning. All of it came back in a whoosh that nearly doubled me over. Things I thought I had put to rest over a decade ago, suddenly a fresh wound.

She's. Back. She's. Back. She's. Back.

I thought running would help clear my head. If I pushed my body hard enough, surely the burning thoughts would dull. But the harder I push myself, the more the thoughts crowd around in my brain until they feel ready to burst.

Still, I power on, my legs eating up the distance faster than I've ever done before. I don't stop until I enter the cul-de-sac, my childhood home mere feet away.

I hadn't intended to come here; I ran with no destination in mind, but my body had brought me here. And, suddenly, I was desperate for answers.

If I couldn't get them fourteen years ago from my ex-girlfriend, then I would get them now from my dad.

I barge through the yellow door, ignoring the sound as it bangs against the wall. I follow the voices that lead me through the house and out the patio door, where I find my dad and stepmom lounging around the glass table. Their conversation halts when they see me.

My chest heaves as I fight for breath, my lungs on fire from the run, but I don't wait. I can't wait. "Is it true?" I demand, my attention on my father. His hand is holding a can of beer, paused halfway to his mouth, as if his actions were frozen the minute I burst onto the scene.

"Are you ok, sweetheart? You don't look well." Maxine scoots her chair back and starts to rise but falls back into the seat when I put my hand up.

"Just tell me, Dad. Is it true? Did you cheat on my mom?"

He stands abruptly, his chair crashing to the pavement. "What is going on, son?"

"Just answer the damn question. Did you or did you not cheat on my mom? It's a simple yes or no question." My fists are balls at my side, all my anger tentatively contained in my hands, threatening to spill out.

"It's not exactly as simple as that, Jensen," my dad hedges.

Maxine looks between us, her eyes and mouth both wide open, her shock plainly written across her face.

"It is, Dad. Either you cheated or you didn't."

He takes a step toward me, and I mirror it, putting distance between us.

"Where is this coming from?"

"Grandpa," I say, clenching and unclenching my fists. "He thought I was you. Spilled your dirty little secret."

"Son." His voice is laced with regret, and he bows his head under the weight of it. "I wish I could deny it, say your grandpa was mistaken, but I won't lie. It's true. I did cheat on your mother. But..."

I don't allow him to explain. I'm not interested in his excuses. I spin on my heels and take off, retracing my steps through the house and back out onto the cul-de-sac. I race back home, toward my girl, to the only place that makes sense right now.