Tough Love (21 page)

Despite our work schedules and me not having a driver’s license, Brendan and I managed to spend a lot of time together. All of the temporary jobs I had were at offices, working a typical receptionists’ nine-to-five schedule. Brendan, on the other hand, worked evenings at a restaurant, leaving him free to eat lunch with me most days.

My parents continued to struggle with that thin line, the one between accepting Brendan as part of my life and pushing me straight into his arms. And so, some days he was welcome at the house, and other days he wasn’t.

But Brendan and I had crossed a boundary. We’d had sex. More than once. And it was difficult to be apart once our bodies knew each other’s touch. I craved him. We had to be together.

One afternoon when the desire became too much and the longing too strong, we broke into the vacant house across the street. It had been sitting empty and closed up for months, allowing mold, bugs and an overwhelming stench to grow.

We searched every room for any type of furniture to aid us, but found nothing.

“How about this front room?” he’d asked. “There’s carpet in there.”

I smiled and nodded, giving my non-verbal okay.

The second I slipped out of my pants, I could feel the fleas. They were everywhere, bouncing off my legs and feet. Brendan and I both tried to ignore them, but it got so bad, we gave up, joking about the fleas being the ultimate mood killer.

Later that night I pulled out my trusty old diary:

A few days later, I realized my period was late. I went to Aimee’s house right away and asked her what I should do.

“Exactly how late are you?”

I took a moment to count.

“Not a lot, just two or three days. Do you think I’m okay?” I could hear the panic in my own voice.

“Probably, but there’s no way to know just yet. If you don’t start soon, I’ll go with you to buy a pregnancy test.”

“Thanks, Aimee. I’m really scared.”

She pulled me into a hug. “I know. It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”

Thankfully, Aimee was right, because two days later, my period came and relieved all my fears.

“Huh, that’s weird,” I told Brendan as we sat in his car in front of the house. “My bedroom light is on.”

From the driver’s seat, Brendan turned toward my window.

“You didn’t leave the light on?” he asked.

“No, at least I don’t think so.”

Just then the light turned off, confirming my suspicions. Someone was in my room. But why?

“I guess I will figure it out later,” I said with a shrug.

Brendan grabbed my hand.

“You still want me to bring you lunch tomorrow at work? What would you like?”

“Sure, I’d love that. How about you surprise me this time?”

I saw that familiar gleam in his eye--the one that was so hard to resist.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

“What I want to do as a surprise, we can’t do in public.”

He kissed me then. Deep. Passionate. Without apology. It was all I could do to keep breathing.

“Brendan,” I breathed while he was kissing my neck. “Hey, I need to go in.”

With his lips still against my skin, he moaned in defeat.

“Do you have to?”

“I really do. We’ve been out here too long.”

We both sighed, he in frustration and me in sadness.

I put my hands on either side of his face, kissing him sweetly.

“I know this is hard, but we’ll get through it. Don’t let their lack of trust make you angry. Prove them wrong instead.”

“You’re right; I’ll try.”

I smiled and kissed him again. “See you tomorrow.”

When I got in the house, Mom told me Aimee had called. I was guessing that she just wanted to check on me.

“Hey, Mom said you called. What’s up?”

She paused on the other end of the phone for a bit too long.

“Aimee? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong really, at least not the way you are thinking. But we need to talk. As much as I love you Janessa, I can’t keep holding secrets for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this whole pregnancy thing, pretending that you aren’t having sex with Brendan, lying to your parents. I can’t keep doing this.”

I could feel myself getting angry. This was just like back at school when Rosie and Kristen decided they didn’t want to be my friends anymore, all because they were jealous that I had a boyfriend and they didn’t. But Aimee was my
best
friend–shouldn’t that count for something?

“So what exactly are you saying?” I asked her.

“I’m saying that I love you, but I cannot–will not–support your relationship with Brendan anymore. If you are going to be with him--”

“You know what, don’t even finish your sentence. That’s fine.”

And then, I did something that was unforgivable in Aimee’s eyes. Something she’d always told me was one of the most disrespectful acts one person could do to another.

I hung up on her.

Trying to sleep that night was very difficult; I couldn’t stop thinking about Aimee and the other friends I’d lost…all the pain I had put my parents through. When I did nod off, the dreams I had were vivid and scary: babies with giant flea legs, and Brendan sitting on the carpeted floor in the empty house laughing at me. By the time my alarm went off at 6:30 AM, I’d gotten a total of three hours of sleep. It was not going to be a good day.

I got through the morning by listening to the radio and staying busy at work. I had told my supervisor that I’d had a rough night with almost no sleep, so the busier she kept me, the better it would be. She obliged and it was lunch before I knew it.

Brendan, food in hand, met me in the lobby.

“Hey, baby, you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess; just tired today. I didn’t sleep so great.”

“Maybe some fresh air will do you good.” He held up the bag with a smile. “Let’s eat.”

We went outside into the warm July air. The sunshine was almost blinding after being in the building all morning, but it felt good on my face. We picked a nice spot close to one of the fountains and sat down. We ate mostly in silence, giving me time to think.

I’d been home for over six weeks, and things were not getting any better. There was tension every time I was at home, in the car, or at church with my parents. I had said goodbye to my best friend. I was knowingly having unprotected sex with a man infected with HIV. The list went on and on. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I had to make a change. I had to break things off, and it had to be now.

“Brendan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m exhausted.”

“I know you are, baby. I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well. Want to talk about it?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about us. I’m tired of the lies, and the secrets. I am not sure I can keep doing this.”

He put down the sandwich he was eating and glared at me.

“What the hell, Janessa? I come here, bring you lunch, and you break up with me? Let me guess, your mom put you up to this. Or better yet, Aimee did.”

“No.” I was crying now. “Nobody put me up to this. It’s just that I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. I love you, but I love my family, too. I can’t seem to keep both of you at the same time, so I have to let one of you go. It has to be you.”

“Okay, you know what? Fine! You want me to go? Then don’t count on ever seeing me again, because I’m going to go and kill myself. Then I won’t be in your life at all. No Brendan, no problems, right!”

And with that, he walked away.

I sat on the side of the fountain, dumbfounded, tears still streaming down my face. I knew my decision wouldn’t go over well, but I never expected his reaction to be so harsh. He spoke with a boldness that I honestly didn’t know he had. I wished Brendan could have figured out a way to use that power to make positive changes in his life, to prove all of the doubters wrong.

Remembering that I was on my lunch break, I cleaned up my belongings and headed back into the building. I kept my head down a bit as I walked, trying to avoid any awkward stares on the elevator. Finally reaching the 19
^th
floor bathroom, I ducked inside to gather myself before heading to my desk.

My eyes didn’t look as bad as I’d feared. Still, I wiped my fingers under them to wipe away a smudge and instantly thought of Brendan. The smell of his Zippo lighter was all over me. I fell to pieces. The tears were coming so fast I could barely see to make it into a stall.

I knew I had to get back to work, but I also knew that I needed to get this…get him…out of my system. I let myself go for a few minutes; let the sorrow and the pain wash over me while the sobs rose up from my chest. I cried for Brendan: for the grief he was going through, for the HIV, for the anger he felt toward everyone. I cried for me: the fear of moving on without him, the pain I’d put my family through, the trust I’d lost. And I cried for the little girl I used to be. The girl who had so much love, so much hope. The dreamer who was going to change the world, one student at a time. The romantic, searching for her perfect love, who thought she’d found it.

I calmed myself down, moment by moment, until I was able to stand and walk back to the sink. This time, I washed my hands before using a wet paper towel to clean my face. When I felt like I was presentable again, I took a deep breath, gave myself a half-hearted smile in the mirror and walked out of the bathroom. There was a hand-written note on my desk. It said:

Your boyfriend called. He said to tell you he isn’t going to do the thing he said he would.

I looked around, but everyone was busy at her own desk, dealing with her own issues. Taking the note in my hands, I sat down with a heavy sigh. I was glad he’d called. I didn’t want to believe he was really going to commit suicide, but I was not sure what he was capable of. Having confirmation was nice, though, and it allowed me to focus on my afternoon responsibilities a bit more clearly.

When it was time for me to head home, I checked in with my boss regarding the next days’ agenda.

“Did you see the phone message I left you?” she asked.

“I did, yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I smiled and turned to walk away when she said, “Janessa?”

“Yes, ma’am?” I asked, facing her again.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, it is. Just boyfriend drama,” I added with chagrin. “I’m sorry that I brought it all to work with me.”

There was a softening of her face when she said, “I understand, believe me. Go home and get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am. Good night.”

I walked to the bus stop in a fog and got on the bus. I was overcome with sleepiness the moment I sat down, a product of the ride Brendan’s behavior had me on. My head bounced off the window with each bump, keeping me awake enough to realize when I was close to home.

As we approached the stop, I could see Brendan standing there waiting for me. I knew this wouldn’t go well. There had been too many times that I’d promised myself I would have resolve, that I’d be strong enough to push him away and yet….

He stood there in my favorite jeans, cigarette in hand, apology written all over his face. I was crumbling. Again.

“Hey,” he whispered.

I did not respond but stood, arms crossed, glaring at him as the bus pulled away behind me.

He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out as he said, “Don’t you want to talk about what happened?”

I shrugged my shoulders but otherwise did not change my stance. I was trying to keep the charade going as long as possible because I knew the second I opened my mouth or let my wall down in any other way, he would saunter back in. He would mess with my head, filling it with more empty promises that he never intended to keep.

“All right, I deserve the silent treatment, I get that. But you aren’t exactly innocent in this whole thing.”

I knew it was one of his mind games, taking my feelings and verbalizing them. He was trying to make me angry. It worked.

“Excuse me?” I huffed at him. “How dare you turn this around on me? You truly are a piece of work, you know that?”

I turned to the left and began walking toward the house. Between the guilt brought on by Brendan’s words and the anger I was feeling, the tears came much quicker than I expected. For the second time in a matter of hours, my vision was blurred to the point of bringing me to my knees. I collapsed onto the pavement, my purse falling to the ground next to me.