CINDY
It's been well over three days since the event, and my social battery is still at a dead zero. But I made a good breakfast this morning, so I think saying it's at a one is more accurate.
I wish I could stay home today, but I've already cancelled on Tommy and his parents three times.
From past experiences, I know I won't be able to just stay for an hour and go home. They'll keep me entertained, hydrated, fed—everything so I don't have an excuse to go home.
❄︎❄︎❄︎
Tommy and I decided that we should drive there together, so as soon as I'm ready, I text him. And not even ten minutes later, he walks into my house. I'm not in the best mood, and I don't even want to go today, but I promised. I've put off dinner with his family for too long now.
He's chewing gum that he bares to me when he smiles real big.
"You look so pretty."
I smile back. "Thank you."
He comes to give me a hug, pressing a kiss to my forehead before pulling back to look at my belly.
Truth be told, I'm getting pretty big. Dad even made a watermelon joke about my baby, and Mom's huge when she's pregnant. That means that if Dad's saying something about it, then I'm definitely not as small as I thought.
I guess that makes me happy though. Knowing that soon I'll have my boy, and as an added bonus, the pain in my... everywhere will finally come to an end.
"Hi, baby." He whispers to my tummy, kissing me there over my dress.
I watch as he stands straight and fixes his shirt, wondering how the hell my life has come to this. Sometimes it completely escapes my mind how different things are, and sometimes it's so evident and clear that it shakes me up.
Like now. Like now, it's shaking me up a little. Mostly because we're not really touching each other the way we used to, and partially because I'm not really sure what's appropriate anymore.
Just because we're not together doesn't mean that all of our history has been erased. I've gathered that we're still comfortable enough with each other to kiss and hug without it being weird, and I've gathered that I don't have these earth shattering, strong-ass feeling for him anymore.
But every time I see him, I get this urge to do things like before. Like, the muscle memory kicks in and makes me forget that we're not about to get married anymore.
"Do you want to see the prints from the last ultrasound? He's ginormous."
He scoffs like I've just asked the world's dumbest question. "Duh."
I go into our—my room to grab the little stack of prints from all the past ultrasounds, but he doesn't follow me inside. And I guess that answers it for me. Where the boundaries that were never there before start.
More awkwardly than I would have liked, I say:
"You can come in, Thomas. It isn't weird."
He shrugs. "It is when you don't call me Tommy."
Calling him Tommy just reminds me of something I started calling him when we were kids. And it's evident now more than ever that we're not kids. Calling him that would feel childish.
I don't say that though.
"Sorry. Tommy."
We both just stand there looking at each other for what feels like forever. We both feel it, how things are changing and have changed. I could be wrong, but I think we're confused by how that's possible.
How do you get to this point with someone who has seen you at your worst, your meanest, most ugliest moments? Hell, with someone who has seen you naked?
"Is this weird now?" He asks, looking around like he doesn't have a clue about what's going on. "Are we weird?"
I shrug my shoulders. "I mean, I want to say no, but you're still not coming in my room."
"Because it used to be our room."
Now I'm looking around like an idiot. "So it is weird."
We keep looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak.
I don't know what he's thinking or what's truly going on in my own mind, but I wonder if going to this dinner will end well. How could it when we're in that awkward break-up stage we should have been in when I told him I wasn't happy anymore.
Telling him I think I might have accidentally gotten rid of our unborn child was easier than this is.
"I don't know, Cindy. It just doesn't feel right."
I don't say anything else. What even is there to say to assure him that it isn't weird for him to be in my room? I can't change his mind, and I'm not going to try.
So, I go in search of the latest picture of our son. With this awkward energy still flowing between us, we both look at the picture when I step back out.. Tommy tells me that our son already looks so much like me, and I couldn't agree more.
Naturally, my ex-fiancé has sharp features. Deep-set eyes, crooked nose, nice lips, prominent jaw. And the baby already has my nose and those little lips kinda look like mine too.
We talk about our baby for another awkward couple of minutes before he tells me that he thinks we should go, and then we leave.
❄︎❄︎❄︎
The whole drive to Tommy's parents' house, we didn't talk much at all, and when we did, we talked about the fact that I have a monster growing inside my stomach. A monster who still doesn't have a name yet.
When I was a kid, I always knew that I wanted to have children. So naturally, I wrote a list of names I'd like if I had a boy or a girl in my diaries up until I was in middle school. And if I'm being completely honest, most of the names are traditionally names assigned to females.
I haven't been able to find my diaries, but next time I visit Mom and Dad, I'll ask if they've seen them.
Speaking of naming the monster, the second we walk into the house, Mary—Tommy's mom—calls my baby Garrett.
What the flying fuck is a Garrett?
I smile politely. What else is there to do, gag? She'd never forgive me. It was her father's name, after all.
She finally looks at me, surprise flooding her features as if she hadn't noticed me. God, I remember the good old days when being pregnant wasn't the only thing I had to offer to people. Now I'm just a vessel, though.
"Hi, Mary."
My smile tightens when she wraps her arms around me awkwardly.
"Oh, I've missed you so much, Cindy. You never come around nowadays." She says, cupping my face.
And I rarely came around for a reason. Because while I've always seen Tommy's mother as apart of my family, as someone I love? Well, she's never had a soft spot for me at all. She's never liked me for her son, made that abundantly clear to me the first time I met her.
When I told her I wanted to be a teacher, she laughed at me. She told me that wouldn't lead to me to success. She told me it was like being a housewife for anyone and everyone's child.
I probably should have known then that things between us would never entirely even out.
Even though I very much want to, I'm not going to act like a jerk. So, I hug her back like I hug my mother. With love, with adoration, with gratitude, with... none of that.
I hug her quickly, dismissively and then I step away from her and move onto her husband. My sour mood just encourages that decision.
Anyway, Martin is Tommy's dad. He's got gray hair now, wrinkly skin. I like him so much because he reminds me of my grandpa. Oh, and he isn't a dick to me like his wife is.
"Hi, Martin. How are you?" I ask, hugging him like I hug my family. With love, with adoration, with gratitude, with meaning.
"I'm good, honey. How have you been? I heard you had a nasty fall."
I shrug, walking with him and Tommy into the family room. "I've been good—healthy, happy. The fall was scary, but everything is fine. I'm okay."
"Is the baby okay?" Mary chimes in, but I don't answer her.
Tommy knows how I feel about how his mom has always acted toward me, so he assures her that the very unnamed unborn child of ours is healthy as well.
"Well, that's good. Have you picked a name?"
"Not yet. I'm looking for my journals with names, but I think they're at my parent's house."
He hums, nudging my shoulder. "I heard you have a new boyfriend?"
"Dad." Tommy warns like he doesn't want his dad in my business. But again, he's like family.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Mary roll hers. She whispers something in Tommy's ear and wanders off into the kitchen.
Martin must notice my distaste for his wife's attitude because he pats my shoulder, smiling almost apologetically.
"Ignore her. She's... She's old fashioned, is all."
What does that even mean? Old fashioned.
I don't ask any questions because I don't want to even think about her anymore. I'm so pissed for no reason. For now, I need to focus on calming down. If I don't, I know I'll do something stupid. And I'm not stupid, and I want everyone to have a good time.
I clear my throat, nodding. "Yeah. His name is Levin."
Martin leans in a little closer, almost like he's challenging me. Playfully, of course.
"He a nice man, Cindy? You like him?"
"Yeah. A lot. Just saying his name..."
I cut myself off. Mostly because I didn't really mean to say that out loud, but also because Tommy is standing right there. I mean, I don't know how he feels about... everything. And more so, I feel guilty because I don't think I've ever felt that about Tommy.
And isn't this meant to be fake? I was mostly joking when I said I wanted to end up like those books I read, but maybe I jinxed myself.
"Well, good then. As long as you're happy and being treated right."
Despite Levin and I not being an actual couple, he really has brought some kind of happiness to my life that I didn't know I needed. Not only that, but he does treat me right when he doesn't have to.
"I am. Happy and being treated right. Thank you."
He smiles, squeezing my hand once. Then, his eyes wandered to this little statue above their fireplace and he starts talking about where he got it, what it represents and means, how he wants to start collecting similar objects to the statue.
❄︎❄︎❄︎
Twenty minutes of statue talk later, Mary calls us in for dinner.
There's steak and potatoes, salad. Not to mention it smells like heaven in here. I mean, seriously. It's almost enough to make me forget about how annoyed I am.
We're all sat at the table. Tommy is catching up with his parents and I'm just sitting there on my phone, reading articles about Levin and I. It's almost addicting reading about what all these people who don't know me think they know what's going on in my life.
It's comical how little they know, how much only really amounts to speculation and nothing more.
When we're all served and finally eating, it gets quiet. Nobody talks, all attention on the delicious meal in front of us.
But then Mary cuts that short by clearing her throat.
"So, Cindy. You said you have a new boyfriend? So soon? How does he feel about your... pregnancy?"
Well, I guess the time has finally come.
I clear my throat, shrugging. "He's actually been very helpful. You know, he helps me put on my shoes when I can't bend down, helps me take them off. It's like he's always looking for a way to make things easier on me. Levin is a sweetheart. Very kind, caring."
And this is all true. He is a sweetheart.
I don't tell her about our talks. About how he tells me about himself when I don't even really ask, about how we laugh together, how he actually listens to me, and how he doesn't make me feel like my little things aren't weird. When I say something random and he just laughs, never grimaces like Tommy would.
I don't tell her because it's almost sacred. It's all mine, and she doesn't get to know about it.
She hums almost disapprovingly. Does she want me to say that he's an asshole? That he barely touches me, never checks up on me. Because he does all of that, and we're not even together. Not really, anyway.
"What?" I say. I don't mean to, and she even looks surprised that I said anything.
"Nothing, it's just... I don't know. You and Thomas just broke up." She lets out a humorless laugh as if I broke up with her. "If it were me, I would have waited. You're pregnant with one man's child and then do God-knows-what with another behind closed doors? Who knows what people are thinking."
I blink at her.
Is she serious? Like seriously serious?
My gaze flicks to Tommy, waiting for him to say something. But he doesn't even try to open his mouth.
I narrow my eyes at him. Does he agree with her or is he scared to speak up? Or both, because I'll beat the shit out of him.
"And? It's not my problem if people think this or that about me."
"Cindy... People will just see you as a hussy. That could be detrimental to not only Thomas's career, but also your partner's. Not to mention yours, as a woman and an individual."
What the fuck is she on about?
I want to say something. Anything, really. But Tommy hasn't said anything, and Martin is only glaring at his wife. So, I get up. I grab my purse, I grab my jacket, I put on my gloves, and I storm out of their huge house.
So what that Tommy was my ride? I just need to... I knew I should have stayed home. I knew, I knew, I knew.
God, who do I even call? Hope is home sick with Aaliyah, Ben is in Washington, my parents are busy with a newborn, and Dahlian is... Dahlian.
So, I call Levin. I call Levin because a part of me could use a friend right now, because a not so small part of me misses him, and because I hope Tommy's mom is watching when he gets here just so I can spite her. Just so she could see just how much of a hussy I can be.
"Hello?" He says in this deeper, more gravelly version of his voice.
"Hey. Sorry if I woke you up, and I don't mean to bother you, but could you maybe come pick me up?"
There's rustling on the other side.
"Uh, sure. What's up? Are you okay? Safe?"
The only person who wasn't safe was Mary if I ever set eyes on her again.
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, sorry. I'm okay and everything. It's just that my ride was being a dick."
I ignore the fact that I said ride and dick in the same sentence.
"Okay. Good. And stop apologizing, all right? It's fine."
I open my mouth to say sorry again, but think better of it. He's right. There really is nothing to be sorry about besides me coming here tonight, but that didn't have much to do with him at all.
I clear my throat awkwardly. "I know."
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, and I nod even though he can't see me.
"No. Yes? I don't know. The woman who was meant to be my mother-in-law by now just called me a whore."
He doesn't say anything for a good moment, but then he whispers:
"Did you tell her it takes one to know one?"
And I can't help the weird little squealy gasp that escapes me. I was not expecting him to say anything like that.
I almost want to scold him, but when I open my mouth to say his name like my mom says mine when I get on her last nerve he lets out that giggly laugh. The one that gives me freaking heart palpitations, the one that makes me want to hold onto something just incase I lose balance.
The one that just seems to so easily make my problems dissolve into nothingness. Because when you're blessed with hearing a laugh like his, nothing else in the world could possibly be wrong.
"You're so..."
"So what?" He challenges. And I don't know what it is about the way he says that, but it makes something bloom in my stomach. Something like butterflies, something like the kind of bliss you want to last forever.
"So..." Perfect. So enthralling. So kind. So funny. So... Levin. So lovable, almost. But I don't tell him that. "So annoying."
"But you laughed. Did that help you feel a little better?"
It did. In ways I wouldn't have ever thought it could. In ways that surprised me.
"Yeah. It really did. I needed that."
"Good. Do you want to stay on the phone until I get there?"
"I think I'm okay now. Thanks."
"Are you sure?"
I smile. If you ask me, it sounds like he's the one who wants to stay on the phone. So, I tell him that I do. I send him the address, and I tell him that it's the only house in the little cul de sac.
When he asks again if I'm okay, I tell him that if I told him how I was really feeling that I would feel like an idiot. And when he asks me why, I say:
"Because I don't want her to see me crying in front of her house. I don't want her to think I'm pathetic."
It doesn't matter what she said. She's still Tommy's mom, and a part of me will always respect what she thinks—even if it's just a little.
❄︎❄︎❄︎
It takes Levin a whole five-ish minutes to get here. Ten if he hadn't sped, he claimed less than a second ago.
My eyes follow his car as it pulls up in front of the huge house I'm still standing outside of. He hangs up the phone, and instead of rolling down his window, he gets out of his car and walks the whole ten feet to me.
"Hi," he says. " Are you cold?"
Before I can answer, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. I thank him quietly, just looking at him.
"What about you?"
It's freezing out here. I don't know how I'm even standing straight right now and not frozen on the ground.
He shrugs. "It's only sixty-seventy out. I'll be fine."
"Is it really? I'm fucking dying over here, man." My shoulders are up to my ears and I'm shaking like a leaf. But that could have something to do with how angry I still am. "I have a bra on, a tank top underneath my dress, and I have my own jacket on too. And yours. I should be sweating so hard right now."
He chuckles, taking my hand. "Come on. I got my car all warm for you. And I brought the one with heated seats."
"Just for me?" I coo, almost mockingly.
"Just for you." He confirms.
And, oh, God. That feeling is back. That feeling in my chest, in my stomach—all over my body, really.
I want to thank him, but I don't trust what will come out of my mouth if I do. So, I stay quiet. I watch as Levin opens the door for me.
I must look like a mess. An unmarried, slutty, pregnant mess.
Before Levin can even close the door, I'm already bursting into tears.
This is so embarrassing. The running out of there, having to call him to come get me, waiting for him on the street like an idiot, crying in front of him.
He kneels by my side, placing his hand on my knee.
"Hey... it's okay."
I nod, wiping at my eyes frantically. "I know. I know."
Levin sighs almost sympathetically, wrapping his large arms around me.
"I'm proud of you. You're doing good considering what happened." He doesn't even know the full story. "I would have been bawling from the second I realized what she was trying to say."
It's reassuring. The way he's rubbing my knee, the way he's admitting to me that he would cry too. It makes me feel a little less shaken. A little more stable and okay.
He hugs me again, squeezing me once before getting up. He tells me to put my legs in the car, and I do. I watch him through the window as Levin rounds the car.
Just as he's about to get in, the front door open to reveal Tommy. He's taking long steps toward the car, calling for me.
Oh, God. Not now.
Levin stands in front of the door on his side, watching Tommy like he's ready to beat the living daylight out of him.
"Cindy! Can we talk?" He looks at Levin, swallowing. "I... I need to tell you something."
My fake boyfriend looks at me, silently asking if I want to talk to Tommy. I shake my head and tell him to get in the car, and we leave Tommy hanging.
Because that's what he had done to me less than twenty minutes ago. He didn't defend me when his mother suggested that I was any less of woman because I wasn't going to let a break up hold me back.
I wasn't going to stop living just because me and Tommy were no more. I could be in a new relationship as soon as I wanted to be. Real or fake.
No matter who I had to stand up to, I would have defended him. I would have gotten violently angry if someone ever said something like that to him. But this whole thing just proved to me that I made the right choice ending things.
I deserve someone who will heat their car for me. Who won't make me feel crazy for being cold in the middle of summer, who will give me their jacket and break laws to get to me as soon as possible. And Tommy would never dream of treating me like that.
But Levin would, and he did. He does. He proved something. He proved that he's a better boyfriend, and we aren't actually together. And when I had the real thing with Tommy, he never showed up when I needed him to. He never would.