The problem with living a lie is that it taints everything with sadness, even when you are living a dream you have wanted your whole life. A sadness so deep you feel it with each beat of your heart. We’ve been back to Dallas for two months now. The only dark spot in this dream-turned-reality is that White’s arm still hasn’t healed. He hasn’t talked about it, but I know he has to realize it is looking more and more likely that he will never play football again. Well, that and the fact that I’m lying to him daily. The taste of the lie is bitter, but I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to come clean. I’m afraid to mess up what we have. I’m afraid. That’s it. I’m just afraid. I’ve been in love with White for so long, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t survive losing him. I loved him before. Now? I don’t think the word “love” can sum up how I feel. That’s why today is a shit day all the way around.
I knew I couldn’t be pregnant, even though the day at the old Oak tree seemed magical and a space out of time. I’m on the pill. I’m on the pill because I know in my heart and from things White has said that he doesn’t want a child. To force that on him is something I can’t do. So I don’t regret staying on the pill. But today, after being a month late, when I begin bleeding it’s such a disappointment that I cry. I lay in the bed with huge sloppy tears running down my face, hugging my pillow and wishing things could be different.
“Buttercup? I saw your car in the parking lot when I came back from the doctor’s office. Didn’t you have a meeting today?” White calls out.
Hearing his voice, hearing the worry in it, just makes me feel more miserable and I cry harder. I’m actually crying so hard, I can’t even tell when White comes into the room. I just feel the bed depress when he sits on it and a minute later, I’m hauled up into his lap and in his arms.
“Kayla? Honey talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I’m in pain,” I tell him, which isn’t a lie. I am in pain. I don’t want to keep this from him anymore. I want to be able to talk to him about the fears that I have. How I’m afraid he will regret giving me a child. Or the fear that when he finds someone he could truly love, how it will feel to be tied to him by a child that he didn’t want while watching him have a family with the woman he chose freely. I can’t tell him all of that, however, and that just makes the tears fall faster.
White rocks me back and forth, his fingers crushing through my hair and pulling it from my face.
“Shhh… I’ve got you, Kayla. I’m right here. Whatever is going on, I’ll take care of it, honey. Just talk to me.” He repeats that a couple of times before I finally force myself to take a shuddering breath.
“I started my period.” I cry like a baby, letting White comfort me, when I should tell him the truth.
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. This is all my fault for getting your hopes up that day by the tree. I know this is a setback for you, but it will happen, honey. We just have to try harder,” he says, and even through my tears, I hear disappointment in his voice. That doesn’t make sense, though. I have to have imagined it. I take another breath and try to get my tears under control.
“This isn’t your fault, White. None of this is. This is all on me,” I tell him, crying to dry up my tears. White reaches over and finds the tissues on my nightstand and offers them to me. I grab a couple and dab at my eyes, trying to get my emotions under control.
“It is my fault. I had to be all ego and tell you I was sure you would be pregnant. I’m an idiot. I don’t want you to get discouraged, though. You want a baby and I’m going to make sure you get it.”
You want a baby. I’m going to make sure you get it. The words replay. The way he said them, the choices he made. It’s all so clear. It hurts like hell.
“White. I think we should talk,” I start, because I can’t do this anymore. The more I’m with him, the longer we’re together, I know it will destroy me when he leaves. I can’t keep going on like this.
“I do too,” he says and that weight in my stomach feels like it weighs a million pounds.
“You do?” I ask, shocked but resigned. It’s best to get it all out now. We can still be friends. I just need to adapt to being on the sidelines of his life.
“I know we discussed it before and decided against it, but I really think it’s time we see a specialist.”
“A specialist?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah. I mean, you were tested once before, you said, when you were thinking of marrying that loser.”
“Tommy—”
“Never say his name. Anyway, I haven’t been tested and I really think I should.”
“White, that’s not necessary. In fact, I have something I need to talk with you about.”
“It is necessary. I need to know.”
“But…”
“I’m doing this, Kayla. In fact, I already have.”