Page 213 of Sins & Secrets

I was probably just crazy with paranoia and all the hormones and raging emotions coming with the pregnancy. At least I’m honest with Evan, open and raw. If nothing else I’m giving him everything I have to offer. He can’t even send me a reassuring text.

Absently my hand falls to my belly. It’s been doing that. Reminding me that there’s another small life in the mix. I focus on taking deep breaths in and out. More than anything, I need to stay calm.

I pick up my phone, intent on texting everything.

He can ignore me all he wants, but I’m going to tell him everything I feel. I deserve that much. To at least be able to tell him what’s on my mind.I’m not the one who keeps secrets.I’m not perfect, I text him.I’m slowing down at work. I have to, I’m so tired. I love being pregnant, though. I love knowing we’re going to have a baby.

I’m afraid I’m hurting him by being this way. I don’t know how to get better, though.

I delete the last two lines and stare at the ceiling as tears threaten to come.

I used to do this when my parents passed. I used to write to them like I did when I was a kid at camp. After they died, I’d write to them telling them how angry I was. I begged them, pleading with them to come back.

It’s not fair that Evan is alive and says he wants me, when a very large piece of my heart feels like I’ve lost him forever.

Please, Evan. Please come back to me.

Just as I delete all the words, not sending him a single message, my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, and I let it ring again in my hand before answering it. “Hello?”

“Hello. This is Dr. Pierce. Is this Katerina Thompson?”

“Yes, can I help you?” The nervousness wracks through my voice at the knowledge that there’s a unfamiliar doctor on the line.

I’m so sorry to call you, but Mr. Thompson’s phone has you listed as his daughter. Is that right?”

I’m confused at first, imagining that Evan’s in the hospital, but then I realize it’s his father, Henry, who the doctor is referring to.

“Is he in the hospital?” The question comes out hurriedly as I sit up straighter, my mind waking up from the fog it was just in. Rather than correcting the doctor and telling him I’m Henry’s daughter-in-law and soon-to-be ex-daughter-in-law at that, I rush the next question out without waiting for a response to the first. “Is everything all right?”

The doctor exhales on the other end of the line, but it’s not out of exhaustion or boredom. It’s the type of sound that accompanies bad news. The kind of sigh that says,I’m so sorry, I wish I didn’t have to tell you.

No. No, no, no. Denial overwhelms me.

“I would like to first apologize for having to break this news to you over the phone,” the doctor says, and I’m taken back to middle school. Sitting down in the principal’s office, wondering what I did. I sat there, my legs swinging nervously as he brought in the secretary, then gave me such a sad look before leaving the room. He was so sorry to tell me. They’re always so sorry to tell you.

No one wants to be in the room when you learn your parents have died. No one wants to be the person to tell you. I could see it in Mrs. Carsen’s eyes.

“Sorry to tell me what?” I ask with caution, but my body is already prepared for it. My heart feels both swollen and hollow, and my head light with denial. I lower myself to the floor, my hand shaking as I hold the phone to my ear.

“Mr. Thompson suffered a blood clot, and unfortunately it traveled to his lungs.”

I remember the way the bell rang as I cried and the other students ran through the halls, going about their lives and not knowing my life had changed forever in that moment.

The same agonizing pain rips through me and tears fall freely as I end the call.

He can’t be dead. Not Henry. I just talked to him; a voice in my head whispers the reminder.

He was the only dad I had, and I threw him away. He was supposed to be with me tonight. Like he wanted.

If I had met with him, if I hadn’t blown him off … Regret consumes me.

I can hardly breathe as the phone drops next to me and I cover my face. He didn’t deserve to die. It’s an odd thing to think because it means others do. But Evan’s father should still be here. He wasn’t supposed to go. Not yet.

My body shudders as I hold back a sob.

I’ve cried so many tears over the past weeks. So many shed on my pillow, in my hands, soaking into my heated skin.

These tears are different.

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