Page 131 of Things I Overshared
He doesn’t look at me as he starts again. “When healing from the accident, I suffered multiple life-threatening infections. I didn’t know until many years later . . . the effect of those infections.”
I suddenly remember Chelsea’s words about Emerson’sshortcomings.And the heartbreak in Evelyn’s eyes when she asked me not to hurt her son. So, he found out when he was with Chelsea? And then she dumped him? I want to ask him a million questions, but I’m frozen, just waiting to see what comes next. But nothing comes next. In true Emerson fashion, he believes he’s done.
“So, you’re saying . . . you broke up with me because you can’t have children?”
“You deserve to have a full life, with a man who isn’t . . . broken.”
I start to get angry the more everything becomes clear. “Broken, as in, can’t have kids—that’s what you’re saying?”
“Yes. And . . .” He pauses, thinking. “The headaches. Every one is a vivid reminder of . . . all I’ll never be.” I soften the slightest bit. I remember how strangely furious and reclusive he was during his headaches. He was grieving all over again. And maybe grieving anew, about me, about us, but without including me. I envision him lying there in the dark hotel room, but then I remember spooning and his hands and . . .
“Wait, so then why wouldn’t you have sex with me?”
“I wanted you to know the whole truth first. I wanted to explain about it, about me, but—”
“But you decided you would just make up my mind for me.” The anger is back in full force. I get up and start to pace, remembering the lies he told me when he broke my heart into tiny bits.
He watches me pace and starts to panic, seeing my fury. “I thought about our future, Samantha, our life together, and I just . . . do you know how often you talk about your nephews?”
“What?” I stop and turn, ready to ream him for whatever comes out of his stupid beautiful mouth.
“I’m not sure I know anyone who loves children as you do. And I want that for you. I saw you with Abigail and . . . we couldn’t, I couldn’t—”
“SO THEN WE ADOPT, EMERSON!” His head snaps up, shocked. “Or we get a sperm donor, or we foster, or we decide we’ll live without them. We.We!Together, we could’ve talked about it! Mother ffff—” I cut myself off and shake my head. But frustration keeps bubbling over. “Ughhhhh! For someone I thought really saw me, knew me in my soul, you sure as hell made the wrong choice. To just choose for me? To decide I couldn’t make my own decisions like a big girl? Like a damn adult?”
“Y-You’re willing to adopt?” He says the words, but they’re barely more than a whisper. It’s clear by the awe in his tone this was something Chelsea wouldn’t consider. I remember again how she and his mother spoke of hisshortcomings.I also flash back to conversations about Emerson’s father’s obsession with legacy and family. It’s all sad and completely ridiculous.
“Yes. Probably, one day, I will.” Emotions start pushing words and data through my vocal cords. “Susan and Adam looked into it years ago, and she said there are like four hundred thousand kids in foster care and over one hundred thousand of them are waiting to be permanently adopted. I remember, because the numbers broke my heart, and as soon as she said it, I figured I would adopt someday. Which you would have known if you hadtalked to me!”
He stands and rushes to me, hands reaching, but I leap back.
“Samantha—”
“No.” My eyes start to fill up as I realize exactly what he did. “You did see me. You did. You knew me through and through, and instead of telling me the truth, you—” A sob breaks through. “You said the most hurtful, painful thing you could to me, pulling out my deepest insecurities, all my past relationship failures, saying what youknewwould push me away. Youknewyou were breaking me as you said it. How could you do that?”
“Because I thought it was better for you in the long run. And it broke me too, it did. Samantha, you have to believe me. I lo—”
“NO! Don’t you fucking dare. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done that. You say you thought about our future? A life together?” I’m sobbing out the words, realizing all that could have been, what we were so close to having. “And then you decided we just couldn’t? And then you crushed me, Emerson. You decimated me in the worst possible way you could think of!”
I shove at him, tears and snot and spit flying everywhere. “To make me doubt myself, my instincts, my love and hope andme.Not a text, not a call, just leaving me to marinate in my insecurities forweeks! To make me doubt who I am andhowI am and . . . you know what? Just go.”
He starts to take a step toward me. “Samantha, please.”
“Just get out! I never want to see you again.” I’m weeping now, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t hide it from him, the pain. His eyes are glassy, and his breath is shaky, but he did this. He did this to us. I go over to the foyer, and with trembling hands, I press the elevator button. He doesn’t follow at first.
“Out!” I scream. He makes his way from the living room to the entry, where I’m holding the elevator open. He stands, staring, willing me to look at him, to say something. But I won’t. I will not. I deserve better than what he did to me, what he said, how he manipulated me. I’m done.
“Get. Out.” I manage to grunt out the words. He steps onto the elevator with one of his heavy sighs, and the door closes on hopefully the last time I’ll ever see Emerson Clark.
_________
“Hello? Adam?” I sit up straight on the couch, a bit worried. It’s very weird for my oldest brother-in-law to be calling me.
“Hey, Sammy,” Adam says on the other line. He sounds like this is odd for him too, us talking. “What did he say?”
“What?”
“Emerson. What did he tell you?”
