“I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I can’t think.” I watch as she lowers herself to the ground and brings her knees to her chest again. She raises her head to look up at me. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course.”
“And you’ll be completely honest?”
“I’ll try.”
She seems to be okay with that, and I sit down on the edge of the chair closest to where she is on the ground. I’m slightly afraid of what she wants to talk about, but I need to know what’s going on with her, so I wait with my mouth shut for her to speak.
“Sometimes I feel like everyone else gets what I want,” she mumbles, embarrassed.
Tessa would feel guilty for saying the way she feels . . .
I can barely make out her words when she says, “It’s not that I’m not happy for them . . .” But I can all-too-clearly see the tears gathering in her eyes.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out what the hell she’s talking about, though Kimberly and Vance’s engagement pops into my mind. “Is this about Kimberly and Vance? Because if it is, you shouldn’t want what they have. He’s a liar and a cheater and . . .” I stop before finishing the sentence with something horrible.
“He loves her. So much, though,” Tessa murmurs. Her fingers trace patterns against the concrete under her.
“I love you more,” I say without thinking.
My words have the opposite effect from what I hoped, and Tessa whimpers. Literally whimpers, and wraps her arms around her knees.
“It’s true. I do.”
“You only love me sometimes,” she says, as if that is the one thing she knows for sure in this world.
“Bullshit. You know that’s not true.”
“It feels that way,” she whispers, looking out toward the sea. I wish it were daylight so the view could possibly help soothe her, since I’m obviously not doing a good job at that.
“I know. I know it might feel that way.” I can admit that’s how she probably experiences it now.
“You’ll love someone all the time, later.”
What? “What are you talking about?”
“The next time, you’ll love her all the time.”
In this moment, I have a strange vision of me thinking back to this exact moment fifty years from now, reliving all over again the sharp pain that accompanies her words. The feeling is overwhelming, and it’s so obvious—it’s never been more obvious.
She has given up on me. On us.
“There isn’t a next time!” I can’t help the way my voice is rising, the way my blood is burning just beneath the surface, threatening to rip me open right here on this damn patio.
“There is. I’m your Trish.”
What is she going on about? I know she’s drunk, but what does my mum have to do with this?
“Your Trish. It’s me. You’ll have a Karen, too, and she can give you a baby.” Tessa wipes under her eyes, and I slide off the chair to kneel next to her on the ground.
“I don’t know what you’re saying, but you’re wrong.” My arms wrap around her shoulders just as she begins to sob.
I can’t make out her words but I hear “. . . baby . . . Karen . . . Trish . . . Ken.”
Damn Kimberly for keeping so much wine in the house.
“I don’t know what Karen or Trish or any other name you’ll throw out there has to do with us.”
She pushes against my shoulders, but I tighten my grip on her. She may not want me, but right now she needs me. “You’re Tessa, and I’m Hardin. End of—”
“Karen’s pregnant.” Tessa sobs into my chest. “She’s having a baby.”
“So?” I move my cast-covered hand up and down her back, unsure what to say or do with this version of Tessa.
“I went to the doctor,” she cries, and I freeze.
Holy fucking shit.
“And?” I try not to panic.
She doesn’t answer in an actual language. Her response comes out in some form of a drunken cry, and I take a moment to try to think clearly. She’s obviously not pregnant; if she were, she wouldn’t be drinking. I know Tessa, and I know she would never, ever, do something like that. She’s obsessed with the idea of being a mother one day; she wouldn’t endanger her unborn child.
She lets me hold her while she calms herself down.
“Would you want to?” Tessa asks, minutes later. Her body is still heaving in my arms, but the tears have stopped.
“What?”
“Have a baby?” She rubs at her eyes and I flinch.
“Uhm, no.” I shake my head. “I don’t want a baby with you.”
Her eyes close, and she whimpers again. I replay the words in my head and realize how they sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want kids—you know that.”
She sniffles and nods, still quiet. “Your Karen can give you a baby,” she says, her eyes still closed, and leans her head against my chest.
I’m still as confused as ever. I draw a connection to Karen and my father, but I don’t want to entertain the idea that Tessa thinks she’s my beginning, not my ending.
I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her from the ground, saying, “All right, it’s time for you to go to bed.”
She doesn’t fight me this time. “It’s true. You said it once,” she mumbles and wraps her thighs around my waist, making it easier to carry her through the sliding door and down the hallway.
“Said what?”