Page 123 of Even After This
I grit my teeth to stop the tears from flowing.No way. Today doesn’tget my tears.
Stanley brushes his straight hair back, and it falls limp. “Why did he break up with you?”
Seriously? Angry spots flash in my eyes. I slam the spatula on the counter. He wants to go there, I’ll go there. “I broke up withhim, Stanley! I can’t give him any children, so I broke up with him.”
Stanley’s face flushes, but he seems to know my diatribe isn’t over and remains silent.
“There’s not a brochure for being barren and broken. At what point in a relationship is it okay to tell someone you aren’t going to have kids so they can decide if they want to stay?” I take two steps toward him, my voice quivering. “To say to someone, ‘I can’t give you this ... but I want you to pick me anyway.’”
He fidgets with the dish towel.
My anger continues to spew. “I was in love with him before I understood what he wanted. I let our relationship go too far. So it’s all my fault. And the second I understood he’d have to sacrifice his happiness for me, I broke up with him.” I step around the island and dump the black-eyed-pea puree in the giant bowl.
Stanley edges back, his face blank. “What else you got?”
With incredulity simmering, I slowly draw my eyes up to his. “What else is there?” I force out.
“I understand you’re hurt. Embarrassed even.” He wipes a spot of egg on the counter. “But that’s not what you’re upset about.”
You havegotto be kidding me.
I hold out my arms. “My husband and children died, and I just lost another man who I loved, not to mention my new dreams. All of which are being used as some trite lesson in my life.” My voice rises. “What in the world else is there to be upset about, Stanley?”
He squares his shoulders and clears his throat. “You’re irate because you did some terrible math about yourself, and you decided to believe it.”
I open my mouth to respond but blink instead.
“You added your grief, your loss, and your inability to have more babies and came up with something incalculable. Your brokenness is bigger than you originally knew.” His compassionate voice is incongruous with the harsh truth he spews. “Now you’re terrified that you’re so unlovable and needy that no one will choose you.”
It feels like the breath has been knocked out of me. “Get out.” My raspy whisper is barely audible.
He holds my eyes in his and shakes his head once.
Humiliation crawls over me like spiders running down my skin. “I mean it, Stanley. Get. Out.” The last word releases on a sob.
“You wear your grief like a badge of honor, Meredith. A badge you earned by experiencing more loss than most people do in a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “But you would have felt this way about yourself even if you hadn’t lost your family or had been able to have more babies.”
A spark of pain lights in my chest. I take a step back, put a shaky hand in the air, and point to him. “You are so full of it. Why would you possibly think that?”
He gulps. “I’ve accepted you aren’t going to love me the same way I love you. But it doesn’t mean I don’t know you, Meredith.” Regret fills his eyes. “You lost your husband, but I lost my best friend. We met every Tuesday morning for twelve years.” He jabsthe counter with his pointer finger. “I hoped and pulled for you guys through every step of your infertility journey. And I can’t tell you how many times Steve would confide in me about his concern for you.”
Each piece of information stokes the small flame, and I rub the heat building in my chest.
“For years I’ve watched you. You put on a pretty face. But you’re worried you aren’t good enough, that you don’t belong on this earth or have a purpose. And Steve knew it too.” Moisture brims his eyes.
My breathing becomes labored, and I move back, bumping the counter behind me. “Please leave.”
Where the timid, awkward Stanley has gone, I have no idea. But the man in front of me gains strength with each hit. “You told me once you didn’t need to be rescued. But I think you do. Do not turn away from this. Figure out the answers to the questions that terrify you.”
The fiery truth sears through me. Still facing him, I grab the counter behind me and inch away.
“You can do this.” He holds out a placating palm. “You’ve faced bigger mountains. But this one is an old friend of yours that you don’t want to let go of. Lean in. Find your peace.”
I clutch my chest and wheeze. “I have to go.”
“I’m here for you, Meredith.” He slumps his shoulders, looking defeated somehow. “Just like always.”
My hip catches on the corner of the counter when I turn to grab my purse off a hook on the wall. Without looking back, I scurry out the front door of the building. Tears stream down my face, but they can’t put out the blaze.
