My dad handed me a glass of wine as
I stormed in. “She didn’t tell them,” I
growled. “You didn’t either!”
“I thought she did,” my dad said
contritely. “She said she was going
to.” I rubbed my forehead and sighed,
feeling bad about my mini tantrum. “I’m
sorry, Jenna.”
“I am too,” I replied weakly. “I’m not trying to be a brat, but this is so
hard already. And then to be blindsided
like that…It just sucks.”
“I know,” he assured me. “Here, stir this.” He handed me a spoon and wandered out of the
kitchen, leaving me to mindlessly stir and calm down.
He returned in a couple minutes,
relieving me of stirring duty. I
wandered into the living room, where everyone was watching A Christmas
Story. I sighed in relief and sat down. I could use a mindlessly funny
distraction. No one said anything to me,
and they were all very careful to keep their faces turned towards the TV. Fine with me.
Everyone tiptoed around me for
about an hour, but finally loosened up at dinner when I cracked a joke. No one mentioned Kevin or my divorce
again. Once everyone left, my mom looked
at me. “Jenna, I’m sorry,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry too. For being a bitch about it.”
She looked as though she was going
to say something about my language, then thought better of it. “Are you angry at me?” she asked instead.
“No, I’m just…tired of feeling
shitty,” I admitted. This was maybe the
most honest thing I’d said to anyone since the divorce was finalized. I quickly realized my mistake when my mom
frowned sympathetically. I’m so
uncomfortable with people feeling sorry for me.
“I’m okay, mom,” I said quickly.
She hugged me anyway, and I hugged her back. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” I told
her after we separated.
I had a hard time falling asleep
that night, and when I finally did, I was plagued by nightmares. The worst was the one about the very first
day I found out that Kevin cheated on me, long before we ever even thought
about getting married.
He
was three quarters of the way through his first year in med school. It was hard—much harder than I’d
anticipated. I was a junior, on my 2nd
major: communications. I couldn’t seem
to figure out what I wanted to do with my life so I figured I could get a
fairly generic degree and figure it out later.
That’s what grad school is for, right?
Anyway, Kevin was at the U of M, 2 and a half long hours away. And he was so busy that even though we were 7
weeks into the semester, I’d only seen him once since winter break. Luckily, we
both had spring break the next week, and I was going down to stay with him for
the week. I missed him.
It
was pretty late on a Wednesday night. I
remember it was Wednesday. I don’t think
I’ll ever forget it. I was getting ready
for bed when my phone rang. Whoever went
to bed first called to say goodnight, so I wasn’t surprised to see it was
Kevin. I quickly finished brushing my
teeth and answered as I walked out of the bathroom and back to my room. “Hey, honey,” I said cheerfully. “How was your day?”
“It
wasn’t good,” he answered, and he sounded weird.
“What
do you mean?” I demanded. “What’s
wrong?”
“Jenna,
I have to tell you something. But first
I want to say that I’m really, really sorry, and I love you. I really love you. A lot.”
“What
did you do?” I asked frantically. My
heart was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach. This was not what I was expecting, and I knew
it wasn’t good. I knew.
“Jenna,
baby, I love you.”
“You
said that already,” I growled
back. “Tell me what you did.”
He
didn’t say anything for several seconds.
And then…did he sniffle? I
couldn’t tell. Finally, he said, “Jenna,
I’ve made some mistakes lately. Some
really bad mistakes. I don’t know what I
was thinking. I miss you, and it’s hard
not to see you, and school is really stressful.” He stopped and I was so frustrated I almost
hung up on him. Luckily, he continued
after a brief pause. “Baby, I’ve been
cheating on you.”
“What?”
I asked, confused. “No. No, you haven’t. You wouldn’t.” I didn’t want to believe him.
“Jenna,”
he said softly. “I’m sorry.” And then he definitely sniffled. And then he sniffled again.
The
full weight of what was happening hit me then.
“Fuck you,” I said. “Oh, fuck
you. You asshole! You piece of shit! Is that why you haven’t let me come see
you? Because you’re too busy fucking
your sidepiece? Is she prettier than
me? Is she going to be a doctor too? I
hope it was worth it. I hope she’s a
real good fuck, because if you cheated on me for mediocre piece of ass, I swear
I will—“
“Jenna,”
he cut me off. “Calm down.”
“Oh
no,” I raged. “You don’t get to tell me
to calm down! You want me calm? You should have thought about that before you
went and stuck your dick in some whore who—“
“Jenna!”
he said, louder. “Seriously, can you
even blame me? Look at the way you’re
acting.”
That
shut me up really fast. I collected my
thoughts, and then calmly said, “I don’t have anything else to say to you. Don’t call me back.” Then I hung up.
Of
course, he didn’t follow directions.
Within 5 minutes, he’d called me 4 times, texted 12, and left 3
voicemails. I didn’t read the
messages. I didn’t listen to the
voicemails. Eventually, I turned my
phone off.
In
the morning, I read the texts. I
listened to the voicemails. I’d accrued
28 more texts and 4 more voicemails overnight.
They started out pleading. Then
they moved to angry. They ended with him
crying. That’s right. I had an entire 47 second voicemail that
consisted only of him crying and begging me to call him back.
He
called me periodically throughout the day.
I ignored each one, sending him to voicemail. He didn’t leave any more voicemails. He didn’t send any more texts.
My
roommate left Friday morning for spring break and I used my solitude to wallow
and mourn the loss of my boyfriend.
Except then he showed up at my apartment. I don’t know who I was expecting when I heard
the knock at the door, but it wasn’t him.
He
looked awful. Terrible. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked exhausted. He was pale.
He probably looked worse than me.
“Why are you here?” I asked him, fighting to keep my strong, uncaring
façade. But the truth was that looking
at him and seeing his anguish, my resolve to end it all and move on was fading
fast.
“Please
let me in, Jenna,” he said softly, hanging his head. “Please.
Just let me talk to you.”
I
stared at him for long enough to make him shift his weight uncomfortably and
glance awkwardly over my shoulder. Then
I silently stepped aside and let him in.
“How’d you even get in the building?” I asked.
“I
saw Amanda coming out, and she let me in,” he said. Amanda was the girl that lived across the
hall. We hung out occasionally, so she
knew Kevin.
“Oh,”
I said. We went to the couch and I
motioned for him to sit. Then I sat on
the opposite end, as far as away from him as I could get. “Um, do you want some water or something?” I
asked.
“No,”
he replied. “I just want to
apologize. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
I was an idiot. I’ll tell you
whatever you want to know. I’ll do
whatever you want me to do. Jenna, I
miss you, and I love you, and I fucked up.
I’m sorry I fucked up.”
I
bit my lip, because I missed him and loved him too. And he looked so distressed and upset and
sorry and pathetic. And then my chin
quivered and I tried to swallow, but it was hard. “Damn it, Kevin,” I managed, before I burst
into tears.
It
was the first time I’d cried since he confessed, believe it or not, and the
floodgates were open. Once I’d started,
I couldn’t stop. I sobbed, and when he
moved to my end of the couch and wrapped his arms around me, I curled into him
and buried my face in his chest. He
stroked my hair and my back and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry,” over and over. And then he cried too.
When
I finally stopped crying, I tilted my head up to kiss him, desperate to feel
something else. One thing led to
another, and we ended up in my bed. When
we were done, I said, “I don’t know how I’m going to trust you.”
“I’ll
do whatever you need me to do,” he assured me.
“I’ll earn your trust back. You
can look through my phone. I’ll tell you
every detail of my day. I’ll do whatever
you want.”
I
sucked in a shaky breath and said, “We’ll figure it out.”