The Road To Forgiveness (2 page)

“You left him? How could you just leave him?
What are you thinking Mia? You can’t raise another baby by
yourself. I mean, you can, but why would you when you have a hot,
sexy, billionaire boyfriend who would help raise it with you?”

I sit there in silence while Jonathon is
patiently waiting for me to reply. Finally I decide to speak.

“He’s married. He has this whole life, a
great life, and I don’t feel like I fit in to it. I’m constantly
waiting for the other shoe to drop with him. I know in my heart
that a relationship with him won’t work. That it would fail… and I
was right. I found out I’m pregnant and that is the other shoe
dropping.”

“How is that the other shoe dropping when you
haven’t even told him you are pregnant? Maybe he wants a baby and
you never gave him a chance to tell you that. Or maybe he never
thought about children before, but once he found out he would be on
board. Or maybe he doesn’t want children at all. My point is, you
will never know because you never gave him the chance to tell you
what he wanted. Now I’m all about women’s rights and all that bull
shit but as a man, I also believe the father has a right to
know.”

“Are you done, can I speak now?” I say
annoyingly.

Jonathon raises his eyebrows and gestures his
hands out to me, “Go for it, love.”

“I’m banking on him wanting the child. The
best case scenario is that he will want his baby.”

“Come again?” Jonathon replies with confusion
all over his face.

“I don’t want this baby. I can’t raise
another child, not after what happened to Miles. It feels like I
would be betraying his memory. I couldn’t do that again but I want
Sebastian to want this baby. When the time is right, I’ll contact
Darcy in hopes that she will give Sebastian his child. Who knows,
maybe they’ll even decide to raise the child together.”

“Oh, baby girl, no.” Jonathon gets up from
his seat across from me and sits next to me on the love seat.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your opinion
right now… or how you think I’m totally fucked up. I know I’m
fucked up. I just need your support right now. Whether you agree
with me or not.”

I look to Jonathon and see the concern he has
for me written all over his face. It doesn’t look like he knows
what to say so I fill the silence for him.

“Will you do that? Will you just be
supportive? I need you to hug me and tell me everything will be
okay.”

Jonathan moves over and wraps his arms around
me as I bury my face into his neck. He holds me all night. Jonathon
rubs circles into my back with his palm and whispers words of
encouragement to me. It was exactly what I needed.

In the weeks to follow I slowly become
accustom to Jonathon’s routine. It’s easy staying with him. When he
goes to work in the morning. I tidy up his apartment or go visit my
mom.

The first week I was back in town was rough.
My mother was still super mad that I up and abandoned everyone and
just left. She didn’t see my side of things at all and only worried
about how it affected her. I would have been angry with her but she
was alone now. I know how much she hates being alone.

Charlie left about a month after I did. My
mother said he was having a hard time dealing with the role he
played in Miles’s death. He blames himself. I wish I paid more
attention to how Charlie was feeling. I would have told him it
wasn’t his fault and I didn’t blame him. He had no control over the
other drivers on the road. If we wanted to blame anyone for the
death of my son, it should be me. I should have been with him that
morning.

I guess Charlie lives is Chicago now and is
working for some printing company. Mom doesn’t keep in touch with
him but I know she misses him. I’ve caught her crying a few times
that I’ve been over. I mentally take notes to fix her and Charlie.
It’s the least I can do after abandoning them.

After I spend my mornings visiting my mom or
cleaning Jonathon’s place, I spend my afternoons at the cemetery
with Miles. The first day was the hardest. I almost left without
saying anything to my son but I find comfort now in our visits. I
sit and talk to him about everything. About the mistakes I made
with him, about the role I played in his death and how I miss him
terribly. It makes no sense but I feel closer to him when I’m
there. That’s why the first visit turned in to a second and a
third. Now I visit Miles everyday.

I’m running later than usual today. I slept
until noon because Jonathon and I stayed up late the night before
watching a
True Blood
marathon so I was caught up for the
next season. I shower and head over to my Mom’s house to see if she
needs anything from me. We speak for about an hour about nothing of
importance. She asks me again what I was doing the months I was
gone. She has been really adamant about learning what I was up to
in Miami. It’s frustrating when all I am trying to do is forget. I
tell her what I always do; I don’t want to talk about it.

Now I’m pulling up to the cemetery to visit
Miles. It’s a little after four in the afternoon so I don’t have as
much time with him as I wanted. I pull over on the side of the road
near his grave. The cemetery is small and fairly empty. I only spot
two other cars on the premises.

I step out of my car and head to Miles grave.
Once I approach his gravestone, I do what I always do. I gently
strum my hand above the top of his stone. This gives me comfort.
Almost like I’m caressing him instead of the solid stone.

I sit down on the grass and spill the details
of my day. I picture him telling me about his day too. I like to
imagine he’s happy in heaven. Strumming the guitar with Johnny Cash
or walking the streets paved of gold with Moses. I guess I’ll never
really know what he’s doing but these thoughts bring a smile to my
face.

I tell Miles about his grandma and Charlie. I
explain, the best I can, that they’re no longer together. How much
they miss him and how I plan on fixing their relationship. I don’t
tell him about Kyle. I choose to believe Miles doesn’t know what’s
going on with the man who helped bring him into this world and I
don’t want to burden him with the details.

“So your Grandma and I were thinking about
going on a trip one weekend soon. We thought it might be nice to
get away for a few days and spend some quality time together. What
do you think about that Miles?” I laugh out loud thinking about
what his reaction might be.

“I know we’ll probably kill each other. The
worst part is we don’t have you as a buffer. You always knew how to
defuse our explosive conversations. All you had to do was come in,
look innocent, and we would immediately forget what we were arguing
about. Do you remember that one time I yelled at Grandma for
feeding you ice cream for breakfast? You had just turned five and I
had a horrible migraine so I was stuck in bed. Grandma let you
spend the night so I could sleep the migraine off. The next
morning, I come into her house and there you are, sitting on the
couch with your ice cream in one hand and the remote in the other.
I was so mad. I walked into the kitchen to find Grandma pulling a
batch of brownies out of the oven. I immediately started yelling at
her about how sugar is not breakfast and how you were going to be
difficult for me all day because you were on a sugar high.

“After a few minutes of arguing you came in
the room calling my name. To this day I don’t remember what you
were asking me. All I remember is your face covered in chocolate
and ice cream all over the front of your pajamas. Your grandma and
I laughed so hard. You were such an adorable sight to see.”

I stop talking to Miles for a moment and just
bask in the memory. When I look up I see a grounds keeper walking
over my way, I look down at my watch and see that it’s after five.
The cemetery is closed for the day.

I start to stand up and wave my hand to the
groundskeeper, signaling that I’m leaving. I stand up straight and
look down at my son’s grave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy. I’ll come
earlier since I didn’t get to spend a lot of time with you today. I
Love you,” I say as I kiss my palm and place it on his
gravestone.

I turn towards the car and walk quickly to
it. I hadn’t noticed the temperature drop as the sun went down but
I was suddenly cold. I unlock Jonathon’s car and get in. I
immediately start the car and turn the heat on low.

I love his car. It’s not a luxury car like
Sebastian would drive or a beater car like I would drive. It’s a
nice black sedan with leather seats and a lot of upgrades but half
the price of a Mercedes. I look around the cemetery one last time.
I spot one other car close by but no one else out on the cemetery
grounds. I pull out and pass the other vehicle just as they start
to make a U-turn and pull out of the cemetery behind me.

I head back to Jonathon’s place. I
contemplate picking up something for dinner but then remember that
we are ordering pizza tonight. We made that decision last night
after ordering Chinese food. Once it was delivered we wished we
ordered pizza instead.

The drive to Jonathon’s isn’t to far. It
takes me about twenty-five minutes at this time of day. I listen to
one of the local radio station and jam out as the song switches to
You Ain’t Alone by Alabama Shakes. I start to feel my nausea hit
just as I pull into Jonathon’s apartment complex.

I just started feeling morning sickness this
week. It started one morning as I was making coffee. I pulled out
the milk and started to pour it into Jonathon’s cup and the smell
instantly made me sick. After I expelled my dinner from the night
before I was fine, but then it happened again the next day and each
day after. Although, I don’t know why they call it morning sickness
when it seems to happen at all different times of the day.

I step out of the car and head into the
apartment building. I make it to Jonathon’s door and let myself in.
I’m instantly hit with the smell of tomato sauce, spinach, and
mushrooms. My favorite ingredients on a pizza.

“Hey baby girl,” I hear Jonathon call from
the next room. I close the front door behind me and set my purse
and keys down on the table next to the door.

“I didn’t know you ordered already. How do
you know I didn’t change my mind and want something different from
Alfonso’s?” Alfonso’s Pizza is the only pizza place in a
thirty-mile radius that isn’t part of a chain or franchise. It’s
also the best pizza. Alfonso came out here from Chicago and he
brought Chicago Style Pizza with him. God shined down on our town
that day he brought Alfonso into our lives.

His voice is coming from the kitchen so I
walk over as I hear him reply, “Don’t be smart with me. It doesn’t
matter if you are here with me when I order or not. You always
order the ‘Popeye’. That deep-dish spinach, mushroom, tomato, and
five cheese crap makes you wet your panties thinking about it.”

“Jonathon,” I gasp as I lay one of my hands
over my heart.

He rolls his eyes and turns away from me as
he opens a cabinet in the kitchen to grab plates. “Don’t get your
panties in a bunch, it was just a joke. Now let’s eat because I am
starving. I survived on coffee and raw carrots all day just so I
could pig out on pizza tonight.”

I laugh at his comment as I head towards the
fridge to grab us something to drink. As I open the fridge I hear a
knock on Jonathon’s front door. I turn my head towards him as I
raise my eyebrows.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know who it is.”
Jonathan says as he starts to walk out of the kitchen. He turns
back to me as he claps his hands together. “Oh, I know. It could be
Alfonso’s delivering us another pizza. You know, like that episode
of Friends where the cheesecake keeps being delivered to Chandler
and Rachel’s neighbor’s apartment and then they keep stealing it
and eating it and… oh, hell no is somebody going to come up and
steal our pizza. I will go straight on his ass and put a hurt on
him like no one has before. You don’t mess with somebodies
pizza.”

At this point I am bent over laughing so hard
as Jonathon turns back around and leaves the kitchen to answer the
door. When I finally can breath again, I grab two waters out of the
fridge, silverware out of the drawers, and some napkins to bring
out to the living room. We eat dinner every evening in the living
room, usually while watching some crap reality television show. I
don’t complain because it’s a nice distraction.

I take two trips and carry everything over to
the living room and set it on the coffee table. Jonathon is still
at the front door so I walk over to see who it is. I hear Jonathon
speaking in a low voice, arguing with the person on the other side
of the door. I’m about to turn the corner when I freeze in place. I
hear the other voice speaking in a low tone.

I know that voice… I recognize that voice…
It’s Sebastian.

“I know she’s here. I followed her from the
cemetery. I just need to talk to her for a minute.”

The cemetery? Oh my God, Sebastian was at the
cemetery.

“Listen, she doesn’t want to speak to you
right now. It’s not a good time. Maybe if you leave me your number
I can call you when she’s ready,” Jonathon says in a calm voice.
Sebastian’s voice is anything but calm.

“She owes me an explanation. I just want to
see her for a minute. I’m not leaving here until I do.”

Oh God, not now. I can’t deal with this right
now. I need him to go away. I need a little time to think before I
talk to him.

“I understand and I agree with you. She does
owe you an explanation and believe it or not, I’m rooting for you.
I like what she has told me about you but you need to give her
time. I’m doing my best to get her to talk to you but you need to
let her come to you. I’ll let her know you stopped by.”

Traitor. Jonathon was a traitor. I could now
put his name up there with Benedict Arnold and Judas.