Good Girls Have Secrets

Epilogue

The end of the semester came and went in a blur. I don't regret the adoption, but I'm not going to lie, the pain is indescribable. I can't talk about it yet for fear I'll break into pieces. Letting go of my little girl locked me in a prison of wondering what I'm missing and the sense that part of me is gone.

Pulling up to my house for the first time in months eases something inside of me, like I'm coming back to center. Taking an Ober from San Luis Obispo Airport to Morro Bay is expensive, but totally worth it. It allowed me to think.

Answering my buzzing phone, I'm surprised to see it's Matt. I didn't say goodbye to anyone in Iowa, even Aunt Beth and Uncle David. I couldn't face it. Answering him, I try to act normal, "Hey. How's it going?"

"Why haven't you returned my phone calls?" He sounds hurt.

Feeling a tinge of guilt, I reply, "I didn't know what to say."

"Can we get together to talk?"

"I'm in Morro Bay. My mom's letting me stay at the house until it's officially sold." I don't mention that the sale closes in a month.

"So that's it? You're back in California?" He continues. "You left without telling any of us goodbye."

"I guess so." Hiding the fact that I'm crying, I try to sound strong. "It only made sense to come home. I have loose ends to tie up."

"Are you planning to stay there?" he says, and my heart drops.

"I'm not staying in Morro Bay. I'm meeting with my advisor and looking at apartments near UCSB next week." It's true. My plan is to see if I fit there because I don't know where I belong right now.

"So that's it. I'll never see you again?" His words tug at my emotions.

"It's for the best. You deserve someone better than me."

"I don't want this to be over." His voice cracks when he says over.

I almost cave and admit that I'm probably coming back to Iowa. If he thinks I'm gone, he'll move on. Then next semester when I run into him, he'll have someone new. Someone solid that doesn't have so much baggage.

"Things don't seem to be working out for us. We don't want to force it." My words catch in my throat. "I want you to know that you made me realize good guys exist. Will you do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Ask the Bible Study group to pray for me. I need to get my life on track. I have a lot to figure out."

"I can do that." After a long pause, he says, "I'm going to pray you come back to me."

With that, I'm done for. I sniffle, "I have to let you go." I hang up and crumble on the front steps of my childhood home, resting my head on my suitcase.

Why does life have to be so hard?