Spoiler
I have changed the time from saying "23 years earlier" "16 years later" to the actual years because that is a lot less confusing
2011
I walked into the living room with the postcard in hand - rubbing my thumb nervously over the glossy picture on the front. Sam was sitting on the couch where I left her, holding her laptop. She didn’t acknowledge my existence but continued typing furiously into the instant messaging window on the screen.
“Hey Sam,” I said, stepping lightly as if that would help. She didn’t say anything. “We got a postcard from your dad.” Sam liked the notes as much as I did and betrayed herself to get it from me.
“Watcha doin?” I asked when she had finished reading it.
She muttered, “Nothing that you would care about.”
I cringed, “How do you know?”
“Because you don’t care about anything that makes me happy.”
Ouch. “That’s not true, honey.”
“Yeah?” She said, sharply. “Well, Brent Ryans is on tour and he is coming here on May 20th. And I would love to see him but since you have some weird hatred for everything I love I guess that won’t be happening.”
I winced because she was absolutely right. I didn’t want her to to see Brent. I didn’t want him any where near my daughter. But, this wasn’t about me. “Well, why don’t you go?”
She seemed skeptical, “You’ll let me?”
“Yes- I’ll- I’ll even buy you the ticket.”
When she realized that I was serious, her face brightened. She jumped up off the couch and wrapped her skinny arms around my neck, “Oh, thank you, Mommy!”
I was glad to have my daughter back.
1988
I couldn’t believe her, that evil, conniving little bitch. I was fuming as I hurried down the hallway, the image still plastered in my head. She thinks she’s being sneaky, she thinks she’s hiding it from me. Two can play at that game.
I shoved through the doorway into math just as the bell was ringing. Mrs. D eyed me as I took my seat.
“You look like your on a war path,” Caroline commented under her breath. “Did something happen?”
I just looked at her, wondering what to tell her. Anna and I had been talking about Brent for weeks and Caroline was generally against him, arguing that he wasn’t good for either of us. “Don’t you see? He wants sex, he’s the type of kid that can’t think of anything else,” she would say. At first I assumed she was right, but then he started noticing me, and when he talked I knew there was more to him then the stereotype. But no, Caroline would not understand the anger - the jealousy that was building up inside me now. She wouldn’t understand the way my insides seemed to collapse when I saw her standing in the corner of the hall with him. The way she leaned towards him, flipped her hair and giggled. I saw right through it but he gave her that smile, that smile belonged to me.
“Nothing,” I muttered. Fortunately, Caroline couldn’t question further because Mrs. D came by and demanded we show the homework.
But the image was still in my head. She was trying to take him from me. Part of me knew that she had as much right to talk to him as I did, he was not mine - not yet.
I thought to myself, this means war.
Chapter 4
1995
“I can’t.” I gripped onto the armrests of the desk chair I was sitting in until my knuckles turned white. I was shaking.
Brandon stood before me, pale. He said, “you have to.” Both our eyes fell simultaneously at the puddle on the floor where I had previously been standing. I was going to be sick. “Every single book says that this is the time we should be heading to the hospital.” He waved a couple of books in front of my face as if I needed proof. When he found out I was pregnant, Brandon had gone out and bought every book he could find on pregnancy. In the past nine months he had managed to read and memorize every single one. That’s how Brandon did everything, with books.
“I want to wait,” I said sternly. “It’ll be fine.”
“No,” he stuttered, and began flipping through one of the books, “look, look here it says-” I stood up, snatching the book away from him, but before I could say anything a pain ripped through my stomach. I clenched the book in my fingers and felt the color drain from my face.
“Are you oh-” Brandon said but I had already bent over and moaned. “Oh, it’s a- a-” Brandon said, flipping through yet another one of his pregnancy books. The pain started to subside and I stood up again. Grabbing his arm I said hoarsely, “Let’s go.’ And dragged him towards the door.
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