Tanner and Esme

Chapter 3 (Tanner): Throwing Me Out

I was idealistic, young and in love. I was trying to use my senior year as a way to figure out how to fund my dream for two, and that was frustrating me because I'd never really had to be practical before and support myself. Until I got some sponsors, how was I going to pay for the travel and expenses? If I worked to save some money, we couldn't begin our adventures right away and from some comments Mindy made, I know she was expecting my parents to foot the bill until the blog could pay for itself.

Then, out of the blue, she'd said she wanted a break, just to make sure we were both all-in since we'd been together since high school. We'd agreed we'd see other people on this break, and although I hadn't really been interested in that, when I'd met Esme she seemed like a sweet girl who was up for some fun while Mindy and I were each going our separate ways for a while. It never occurred to me that Mindy and I wouldn't get back together.

But the fun with Ez had turned into a commitment when she'd gotten pregnant. And now that commitment had turned to shit, and I watched that video my mother sent me twenty, thirty, forty times, letting Esme's pain cut into me with every broken, gasping sob that shook her small frame.

My phone buzzed again and again with texts from my mother.

If your wife doesn't calm down soon, I'm calling her doctor. This isn't good for her or for the baby. Of course, neither is seeing her husband after he'd just cheated on her with someone who should have remained buried in the past.

Emphasis on buried.

Do you know why I'm calling your wife's doctor? Because you aren't here to take care of your pregnant wife like a good husband would be.

In your entitled, selfish mind, how did you justify so heinous an action? Was your pleasure worth the pain you've caused your wife?

And if it was, why didn't you do "the right thing" this time? Free yourself from your marriage and then pursue that piece of filth once you were single.

You were always so proud of yourself for doing "the right thing" with Esme. Do you feel proud seeing what you've done to her? Are you just bursting with pride now?

I threw my head back against the headrest of my car. I was parked in a Walmart parking lot, unsure of where to go. The one place I wanted to go, I couldn't.

Home.

I wanted to go home, to make this right. My phone buzzed again and, thinking it was my mother, I looked at the screen.

I'm staying at the Marriott because I figured you'd be uncomfortable dropping by my parents'. Room 523. Come over so we can talk and finally begin our future now that she knows you're done with her.

For fuck's sake. I shouted my frustration and irritation in the quiet of the car. Then both my mother and Mindy were texting.

I finally got Esme to calm down. You can come pick up your clothes tomorrow morning. I put them out front for you.

Esme was throwing me out. She was throwing me out.

It's our time, Tan. You messed up by getting that girl pregnant, but it's OUR time now. We can both start fresh.

And don't even think of coming into this house. Esme told me about the STD testing you need to get before she'll let you see Jude and I agree.

We can finally travel and live our lives without anything tying us down. Our dreams were delayed, but now they're right in front of us.

Did Mindy really think I'd leave Esme and Jude behind? Forget about them? A thought hit me like a fist, and it was all I could do not to get sick.

You did, asshole. You already did leave your wife and child. You ran out of your house so fast to get to Mindy, you could have set land speed records.

Your father and I didn't raise you to be a cheater or to treat another human being this way. Maybe you aren't ashamed, but I am.

Tan, you've already made me wait four years. Don't make me wait any longer.

I reclined my seat and closed my eyes, but I couldn't sleep. Esme's face kept me awake all night, those stricken eyes of hers reflecting all the pain I'd rained down on her. Maybe I could get Esme to talk to me tomorrow. Maybe, when she'd calmed down, we could talk. But even if she'd agree to talk to me, what could I say that could get us past this?

After a long night of thinking, once the sun was up, I started the car and headed for home. As I drove, I remembered reading Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird in high school, and one of the lines in the book said, "Things are always better in the morning."

I was about to find out just how much of a lie that was.