Forever Baby (33 page)

Sighing, she says, “Honey, maybe I was wrong with the whole therapy thing. I’m sorry that I made you go. You had such an aversion to it that you didn’t experience the benefits it could have brought you. At the time, I thought that it would help you. But, I know now that you have to be an active participant in therapy for it to work. There is nothing wrong with talking things out with a professional. It doesn’t mean that you are any less because you need help sorting things out. I’ve been to therapy. I personally think it is a wonderful tool.”

I gasp in disbelief. “You’ve been to therapy? When? Why?”

She chuckles. “You would think I just told you that I have hidden a third arm from you all these years.” She shakes her head with a grin. “Your father and I went to therapy on and off during the first ten years of our marriage.”

“You did? Why?” I think back to my parents’ seemingly perfect marriage, and I don’t understand why they would have ever needed therapy.

“Oh, honey, life is not always easy. Your father and I had a lot of stress in our relationship in the beginning. We had the usual struggles, like learning to live with someone new when we were first married, and we had the stress of not being able to get pregnant for so long after trying so hard. Then, we had to go through the pressure of the adoption process with Max, and we almost lost him to the whole bureaucracy of the foster care system.”

“But I always thought that you and Dad were happy?”

“Oh, honey, we were. Sometimes, it helps to have an impartial person as a sounding board. It is helpful to voice your problems and concerns to someone who is not involved in those problems, so that person can give you perspective. Therapy isn’t a tool only for those who are unhappy. Many people use therapy as a tool to stay happy.”

I think about my mother’s words, and I wish that she had told me this when I was going to therapy in high school. It would have released some of the shame I felt, and maybe I would have tried a little harder to let the process make me a stronger person. Perhaps if I had figured it out then, I wouldn’t be standing here in a pool of despair as I contemplate the mess I have made of my life. Then again, maybe I am the type of person who has to experience rock bottom, so I can learn how to climb to the top again, gaining strength the higher I climb.

I lie on my childhood bed in my pastel pink room that we never got around to repainting after my tween years. The walls are adorned with framed photos of me with my high school friends, Twilight posters—always Team Edward—and randomly placed quotes about saving the rainforests, all endangered animals, and basically the world. I had high hopes of ending many of the world’s environmental calamities.

I stare at one of the framed photos of my high school boyfriend, Ryan, and me. We’re standing in front of his dad’s red sports car before our junior prom. I have a tight black floor-length gown on with my hair swept into a bun of messy curls. I remember back to that night. It was the night that Ryan and I decided we wanted to take our relationship to the next level, and I lost my virginity. It was so cliché, going to a hotel after prom, but we did it. It was nice enough. Ryan tried to make it special, but neither of us knew what we were doing. I thought maybe I was in love with him, but toward the end of senior year, after dating him for almost four years, I ended it, knowing I was more in
like
with him. I liked him a lot, but it was never love. He was my first and only relationship until Andres.

Love would be what I have now with Nolan and what I had this summer with Andres. Yeah, that was love.
Is
love?

I stare at my phone as I contemplate calling Andres. I think I owe it to him and myself to at least entertain a conversation about us. Whether it leads to closure or something more, at least I will know. My earlier conversation with my mom has given me an ounce more of strength, and perhaps I can be strong enough to make the call and give Andres the conversation he deserves.

I absentmindedly scroll through my Twitter feed, weighing the pros and cons of calling Andres. I see a picture that Nadia tweeted of her and Marcela. Their arms are wrapped around each other as they pose for the camera at a club. Marcela is doing the duck face.
So last year.
Then, what stops my breath isn’t Marcela’s lack of taste as she pouts her lips. It’s the person I see in the background. It is Andres. He is dancing…and kissing…a girl. He is kissing a fucking girl, and it’s not like the kiss he gave to his cousin. This is no innocent cheek kiss. I can tell from the photo that he is full-on dancing dirty with this hooker. Call me crazy, but his hands on her ass give me that impression. His mouth is over hers, and I know, I just know, that his tongue is in her mouth.

Someone might as well hit me in the gut with a baseball bat because that would be less painful than what I feel now. I am sitting on my knees, bent over on my bed, with my arms wrapped tightly around my waist, and I am wailing. Thank God my parents are sound asleep in their room downstairs on the opposite end of the house and my brother is in the basement playing Xbox because the last thing I want to do is explain my excessive loss of sanity in this moment.

Seeing Andres with his hands and mouth on another girl that way is the most painful feeling that I have ever experienced. I know I don’t have room to talk since I was, after all, the one who broke it off with him, and I was the one who proceeded to ignore him for more than two weeks. Lord knows, I have been doing way more than kissing with Nolan…but the visual, the fucking visual, has made it all so real, so depressingly fucking real. The sight of his hands and mouth on her will forever be seared into my memory, haunting me forever.

He is moving on.

I have lost him, and it is entirely my fault.

I hold my hand to my chest and sob. The pressure beneath my palm is so painful. I deserve to feel like this because I am an idiot. Thank you, Karma, for taking
closure
and torpedoing it into my fucking soul.

A long month passes. I am surrounded by my two supports, Nolan and Cara, and they love me. I smile every day, but I don’t truly mean it, and I should. I ought to mean it. I want to. I walk through my life, seemingly happy, but I can’t find my joy.

After returning from my family’s Christmas party, I sit in my living room, cross-legged, on the couch, talking to Cara.

“What do you mean you aren’t going?” Cara asks in frustration.

I informed her that I would not be going to Spain for New Year’s after all even though the plane ticket was purchased in August.

“I’m not going. I am sure I can pay the airline to use my ticket at some other time…to some other place,” I answer.

“No,” Cara states firmly. “You need to go to see Andres in person.”

“No, Cara!” I whine. “Andres has moved on. I have moved on. Nolan and I are really happy. Why would I go there to see him and open up old wounds? I’m not going to do it.”

Cara sighs and states with stark disappointment, “Fine. Continue to live your life in fear. I thought you didn’t want to be that girl anymore, but whatever, it’s your life.” She stands and starts walking to her room.

What?

I stand and follow her. As she walks away, I yell toward her back, “I am not canceling my trip out of fear! That has nothing to do with it!”

She turns and faces me. “Oh, stop lying to yourself! If you are
so happy
with Nolan, then it wouldn’t matter what Andres’s reaction to you might be. Whether he runs to your arms, begging for you back, or he’s pissed and hates you, it wouldn’t matter because everything in your life is rainbows and lollipops, so his actions would not affect your life of bliss. But it does!”

I open my mouth to protest, but Cara continues before I can a word out. Her arms are adamantly waving around as she speaks. “You are afraid to know how he will react because you are terrified of the feelings that you have and the choices you will have to make! You are content with the status quo because you don’t have to make any hard decisions. You can just pretend that all is well in the world and go along your merry little way, but it is all bullshit, Livi. I love you, and I want you to be happy. I don’t care whom you end up with as long as you are happy. And I know you are not truly happy now. I know that all the little what-ifs are running through your head, making you question everything. The truth might be hard, and you might get hurt, but it will be worth it to put your mind to rest. Then, you could start making decisions based on your best interests instead of what is easiest, most convenient, and safe.”

“Are you saying that I chose Nolan because he is the safest choice? Do you not believe that I love him and that he makes me happy?” I yell.

“Do you believe that you chose Nolan for reasons other than because he was the easy, safe choice? Really? To be honest, I think you are unsure of why you chose Nolan, and I don’t think you are going to find the answers you need until you talk to Andres and get some real closure. Of course you love Nolan. I totally believe that, but I don’t know if he is the one for you, and I don’t think you do either. I don’t think you will ever know for sure until you talk to Andres.”

She turns and walks into her room, leaving me standing in the hallway with my mouth open. My cheeks burn from the proverbial slap in the face I just received. Anxiety courses through my veins because I know deep down that she is right.

I am gripping Nolan’s hand as he pulls up to drop me off at the airport. I cannot believe I have to fly alone. I am two seconds away from calling this whole trip off.

Nolan squeezes my hand gently and uses his free hand to pull me in for a kiss. “Babe, you will be fine. Your plane will land safely. Don’t freak out. Remember,” he says in a voice fit for a cotton candy commercial, “it’s the safest way to travel.” He gives me his signature smile as he winks.

I let out a sigh, and using both of my hands, I pull his face into a deep, lingering kiss. I am lost in our kiss until I hear the smack of a hand hitting the car roof.

A gruff voice yells, “Hurry up! This is a drop-off zone only.”

Startled, I break away from our kiss and see airport security standing next to the car passenger window, glowering down at me. I give him my sweetest smile while holding up my one-minute finger, imploring him to have a tad bit of patience and decency.
What an asshole.

I turn back to Nolan and stare into his gorgeous green eyes. I want to stay here and snuggle with him for the rest of the break because I know this is where I will be happy and my heart will be protected. Instead, I have decided to fly off to Spain. Who knows what mess I will encounter there? Cara was right. I am scared. I’m completely terrified.

“I am going to miss you, baby,” I say to Nolan as I place my palm on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over his smooth skin.

Leaning into my hand, he says, “Me, too, babe.”

I see the love in his eyes, but I also see the fear, and my heart breaks for him. He has every right to feel afraid. God knows I feel the same. I want to comfort him and reassure him that nothing will change between us after I return, but I can’t make that promise. I have no idea how this trip is going to change things. I can only hope it changes things for the better.