Perfect Doesn't Last Forever

Chapter Thirteen

Perfect Doesn’t Last Forever- Chapter 13

            I’d been staring at the ceiling for hours, waiting for the opportune time to complete the final task on my list.  I have lain in bed for hours, a thin sheet covering my naked body, as Damien fell asleep, tossed and turned, until he found a comfortable position with his arm now hovering over my breasts.  He stayed like that for two hours before I determined it was time for my out. I slivered out from beneath Damien to the foot of the bed and carefully got out of bed.  I grabbed my clothes, one by one, and dressed myself, remembering the last time I would ever have sex with Damien.  It was the earth-shattering experience I delayed my plans to enjoy.  It was the passion I relished and yearned for to send me off into my new life. 

            I leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on Damien’s temple before turning out to the living room where my packed luggage and purse stood, ready for me.  I retrieved two envelops from my purse and placed them on the dining room table.  One was addressed to Damien and the other to Hayley.  Hours of writing, packed away into two envelops, that I hoped would explain me and my feelings.  I grabbed my cardigan from the sofa, and gave Damien’s place one last look before sneaking out the front door to my car. 

            On the drive over, I began to recall the exact moment when I decided to do what I was doing, the moment I was absolutely sure I was leaving everyone.  I remembered the exact spark in therapy that made me determine that leaving everything behind was the right decision for me and for my daughter.  It was the day of the biggest digging session Dr. Ellen had, the day I confessed that I didn’t want the life I was living and the inescapable responsibilities I had as a nineteen-year-old mother. 

            That was almost two months ago and a month after my first breakthrough session I called Noah to begin the long journey to recovery.  It started out with a vague introduction.  I began with the very basics.  Yes, I was okay.  Sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.  I know there weren’t really any excuses, but I needed some time.

“So how’ve you been?” Noah asked uneasily as he sat down in my parents’ living room.  “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

            “I’ve been fine,” I told him, swallowing back my anxiety.  “I took a break from school to rest and recover.”

            Recover was Dr. Ellen’s trigger word.  I didn’t want to drag the conversation out any longer that I had to, thus avoiding the awkward silence.  “Recover from what?” Noah asked still keeping the distance between us. 

            “That day, when you gave me that ultimatum-”

            “About that,” Noah cut in scooting in closer to me.  “I’ve been feeling really guilty-”

            I stopped him, lifting my hand up, but I didn’t think it was my hand that stopped him, but rather the tears welling in my eyes.  I took a deep breath and he nodded for me to speak, “that day, I went home and had a miscarriage.  I was five weeks pregnant. The baby was yours.”

            He sat still and silent, a blank stare plastered on his face, but after a minute or two, his hands rose to his face and he began crying.  And I just sat in place.  I didn’t move closer to calm him down.  I just sat.  I wasn’t expecting anything from Noah after two months of radio silence and I didn’t really want anything from him. 

            People say that you find yourself in therapy and as much as I hated the cliché, it was the truth.  Every single detail of my life that was fogged up, buried deep in my brain, and locked out of my heart, wiggled out one by one in session and the one thing I was sure of was that Damien and I were supposed together.  And that was the simple truth, I loved Damien.