Dear Tabitha (12 page)

“He’s still at my apartment,” I say as I reach for a wheat bagel, pull a piece off, and take a bite.

“What? Then what the hell are you doing here? Go tell him the truth. Now.”

“Let me finish my breakfast first, please?” I beg, avoiding the inevitable.

“Fine. And I don’t know how you can eat a bagel plain without any cream cheese. You’re from Philadelphia, for God sakes. You should have cream cheese running through your veins.” She grabs the bag of bagels and heads toward the counter. She keeps cream cheese stashed in the mini refrigerator behind the register.

“I hate cream cheese,” I state, and I really do. Ick.

“Whatever, suit yourself,” she says. She seems so annoyed with me, and it can’t be just because I like my bagel a certain way.

“What? Why do you seem pissed at me?” I ask.

“Because I don’t want to see you spiral out of control. You’re heading down a familiar road and I can’t bear to watch. I love you, Tabby, and I know you’re scared to do the right thing. Don’t blow this opportunity off. Promise me that you are going to tell him right now.”

I swallow the last bite of my bagel and nod. “Okay. Yes, I’m going to go tell him.” I stand and give her a hug.

“I’m here if you need anything, honey,” she says as I walk out the door.

My heart races the entire five blocks home. I’m so nervous about having this conversation. A conversation that I’ve lived countless times in my head and in my nightmares. A conversation that always ends the same way. And it’s not a happy ending.

What’s he going to think? He’s going to hate me for what I’ve done, and I know I’m going to lose what we have. But what is it that we have? I’m drawn to him, and I can tell he’s feeling something too. Is it just our old memories? Or is it something new?

I reach my apartment building and slowly walk up the stairs. My hand shakes as I open the door to see him freshly showered and sitting on my couch with his arms resting on his legs. He’s bent over, looking defeated. Upset. And he’s holding something in his hands.

It’s a picture of Emily. The one I left in the bathroom last night after hiding all of her other pictures from him.

I grab my chest and close the door behind me.

He looks up, and when our eyes meet, I swear he already knows.

Present

Age 24

I
WAKE
up on an unfamiliar couch with a throbbing head. Fuck! Why did I drink so damn much last night? I haven’t touched whiskey or any kind of alcohol in months. What is wrong with me?

Then I realize that I’m in Tabby’s apartment. That is what was wrong with me last night.

I remember why I came here last night. I used the excuse that I wanted to make sure she made it home okay. I’m lame. Why didn’t I just come straight out and tell her that I’ve missed her? I’ve missed everything about her. I want to touch her. Hold her. Love her. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but this new Tabby is just incredible. She’s never stood up to me or anyone before. She’s confident and seems to actually like herself. I’m really proud of this new Tabby. I just need her to help me understand what she did with Seth and why. If I can get past that, then I think I’m ready to forgive her.

I need her.

And I need a shower.

I get up to go to her bathroom. On my way, I notice that her bedroom door is open, and the bed is empty. She isn’t here. Maybe she ran out for coffee. I turn toward the bathroom, quickly undress, and turn on the shower. Once it is nice and hot, I step in under the spray. The water pounding on my head doesn’t feel so great, but I don’t care. I grab her shampoo, and when I open the lid, her familiar coconut and vanilla scent surrounds me. I picture my face buried in her hair. On her neck. All over her body. I’ve missed her so much, and I need to hold her again. To have her. Make her mine. I immediately get hard just thinking about her body beneath mine. Before I get carried away, I turn the water to cold, needing to calm myself down. I finish my shower, and wrap myself in one of her purple towels.

I spot a picture turned face down on the counter. Curious, I flip it around. It’s the same little girl that I saw last night before I passed out. As a matter of fact, I saw her face all over Tabby’s living room. Who is she?

I dress and carry the picture into the living room. When I scan the room, I realize all of the other pictures that I saw last night are gone. What the hell? I know that I was drunk last night, but I
remember
seeing this face everywhere.

I sit down on the couch and rest my arms on my legs. Why would she move all of the pictures? What could Tabby be hiding from me? I’m so confused.

The door closes and I look up to see Tabby standing in front of me. She looks surprised and upset. She’s clutching her chest and sees that I’m holding the picture of the little girl.

“Tabs, what is going on? And who is this?” I turn the picture toward her. She looks unsteady on her feet, and her complexion suddenly pales. Oh no, she’s going to pass out. “Tabs?”

She slowly walks over to the chair across from me and sits down. She places her head on her legs and breathes deeply. It sounds like she’s quietly counting. She continues this ritual for a little while. She’s making me so nervous, and I’m afraid to hear what she has to say.

Finally, she sits up, and I notice that some of the color is back in her cheeks. Good. Now I need to know what the fuck is going on and why she’s plastered her apartment with pictures of this little girl.

“Her name is Emily,” she says in a quiet voice. Her eyes meet mine and start to glisten. “She’s two years old.”

My heart pounds in my chest and I look down at the picture again. Emily has a familiar look about her. I look up at Tabitha, and her tears have spilled onto her cheeks. She nods at me once and I look back to the picture in my hands. Emily has Tabby’s nose. Tabby’s eyes. Tabby’s lips. She is the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen, and she looks exactly like Tabby.

I look back up at her and see her shoulders shaking from her sobs. Realization sets in, and I say, “Tell me.”

She continues to sob, bringing her hands to her face. She shakes her head back and forth, whispering, “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me, Tabitha. What are you sorry about?” I raise my voice in anger. She flinches. God, I’ve got to get myself under control. She opens her eyes, and I see the old, scared Tabby again. The one who thought that I could hurt her, who shrank away from me when I raised my hands. I would never hurt her in that way, ever. Yes, I’m angry right now because she’s clearly hiding something from me, but I wouldn’t lay a hand on her. She needs to know this. “Tabs, whatever it is you’re afraid to tell me, please, just tell me. I’m not going to hurt you. You know that. You know me.”

She looks up and wipes the tears from her face.

“Yes, I know, Alex. And I know once I tell you what I need to tell you, you’re going to leave again. This chance that we may have right now will be gone. Forever. Can’t you see that I’m not ready to do that? Cut the ties again? You’re just back in my life, and I feel like we are on our way back to each other. I’m not ready to say goodbye again.” She starts weeping, and I just want to pull her against me.

I don’t want what she’s saying to be true. I know that I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear. I feel it in my gut. Can I stick around? Can I handle it? Can I stay with her? I look down at the picture in my hands and I just
know
.

“Tell me the truth. We’ll figure out what’s next when you do,” I say. I’m so apprehensive right now.

It takes her some time to compose herself. She gets up, walks to the bookcase, and takes out a photo album. She comes back and places the album in front of me on the table.

“These are the Finnegans,” she says.

The cover of the album shows a couple with the little girl, Emily. They’re sitting in front of their fireplace, clearly posing for a holiday picture.

“And who
exactly
are the Finnegans?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath and says, “They adopted my baby girl, Emily.”

I’m confused. I thought she didn’t know where her daughter was, and I remember that her name was different. “I thought her name was Sara.”

“That’s my other daughter, and I still don’t know where she is. This is Emily, my second daughter.”

Second daughter? “And she’s two?” I ask, knowing the answer.

“Yes.” She chokes on a sob.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I don’t want to say it or ask the question that I need to ask. She hid a child from me? Emily is two years old? I don’t need to do the math in my head to figure this one out. Emily is my daughter. I stare down at the picture and all I see is Tabitha. This beautiful little girl is exactly what I would imagine our child to look like someday. I grasp the picture in my hands and look up at her. Tabby still terrified, and I know that there’s more that she isn’t telling me. I can see it in her eyes. My heart beats wildly in my chest as my head feels like it’s in a vice.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why?” I ask. Beg. Plead with her. “Why? Emily is my daughter, isn’t she? Why didn’t you tell me?” My heart is breaking right now. This is so much worse than what she did with Seth. So much worse. She lied to me about a baby that she gave away. She never told me about my daughter. Yes, this is so much worse. Fucking fuck!

She shakes her head. “Alex, I couldn’t.”

“What do you mean that you couldn’t? Are you kidding me? Two years Tabby! You could have picked up the phone and called me, just once. You could have told me about her. Oh my god.” I’m so fucking angry that I begin to shake. Where is that woman that I was so proud of just twenty four fucking hours ago? I don’t see her. She’s so many people to me right now that I don’t know which one of her is ‘real’. Why did she do this to me? To us?

“I did call you, Alex. Remember? I told you the other day when you were here.” She stands up in front of me. “I called you and some girl answered the phone. She said that you were ‘incapacitated’ and she would give you the message that I called. I fucking called you!” she yells and clenches her fists. “I called you, and you never called me back!”

I never got that message and she knows it. That was clearly Stacy fucking with her, wreaking havoc on my life. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t excuse the fact that she didn’t keep trying to get in touch with me. “So you called me
once.
This is something that seems like it would warrant a couple dozen phone calls, don’t you think?”

“Alex, I was broken, okay? Broken! I realized what I did to you was wrong. You already hated me when you left. I assumed that you got the message and you just didn’t give a shit. That you were done with me. What do you want me to say to you? I was ruined and weak then. I wasn’t going to beg for you to talk to me. I made a decision based on fear and self-loathing. I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” She shakes her head and looks away from me.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you. I don’t care what happened in the past anymore. I came back, and when I first saw you, I convinced myself that you had changed for the better. I felt those feelings for you again. The past few days I’ve done nothing but imagine a new life with you. Starting over. At what point over the past few days were you going to tell me about Emily? Or weren’t you? Were you planning on hiding this forever?” I am beyond livid.

She sits back down in the chair and looks into my eyes. “I was going to tell you this morning. I’ve been struggling with this ever since you came back into town. You shocked me the other day, and I’ve been reeling from it ever since. I needed to find the courage to tell you. To tell you the
whole
story.”

There’s more to this. Shit. I can tell by looking into her eyes that I don’t know everything yet. And I’m not sure I can stand to hear what’s next. But I have to know.

“Tell me. Everything,” I say harshly. I lean back into the couch and place the picture of Emily next to me. I brace myself for what truths are about to fly from her mouth.

“I don’t know who Emily’s father is,” she says quietly.

Motherfucker. Fucking Seth. I punch my fists into the couch on either side of me, almost breaking the picture frame. She flinches in her seat but doesn’t move. I punch my fists again and again. I want to scream and yell and kick the furniture over. Of course! Of fucking course, Seth has something to do with this. He could be Emily’s father. Of course, Tabby fucked him. Her face is pale again, and her eyes are wide.