“Did you hear me, Hardin? I made a small list in case you didn’t,” my mum said, handing me the frilly piece of stationery.
“Yes.” My voice was barely audible.
“Are you sure you’re okay to go?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I stood up and tucked the list into my dirty jeans.
“I heard you last night, Hardin, if you want to—”
“Don’t, Mum. Please don’t.” I nearly choked on my words. My mouth was so dry and my throat was aching.
“Okay.” Her eyes were full of sadness as I walked out of the house to head to the store just down the road.
The list only consisted of a few items, yet I couldn’t remember any of them without digging the damn paper out of my pocket. I managed to corral the few things: bread, jam, coffee beans, and some fruit. Looking at all the food in the store made my empty stomach turn. I took an apple for myself and began to force myself to eat it. It tasted like cardboard, and I could feel the small pieces hitting the pit of my stomach as I paid the elderly woman at the cash register.
I walked outside and it began to snow. The snow made me think of her, too. Everything made me think of her. My head was aching with a headache that refused to go away. I rubbed my fingers over my temples with my free hand and crossed the street.
“Hardin? Hardin Scott?” a voice called from the other side of the street. No. It couldn’t be.
“Is that you?” she asked again.
Natalie.
This couldn’t be happening, I kept thinking as she walked toward me with her hands full of shopping bags.
“Erm . . . hey,” was all I could say, my mind frantic, my palms already beginning to sweat.
“I thought you moved?” she asked.
Her eyes were bright, not lifeless like I remembered as she cried and begged for me to let her stay at my house when she had nowhere to go.
“I did . . . I’m only visiting,” I told her, and she set her bags on the sidewalk.
“Well, that’s good.” She smiled.
How could she be smiling at me after what I had done to her?
“Uh . . . yeah. How are you?” I forced myself to ask the girl whose life I ruined.
“I’m good, really good,” she chirped and ran her hands over her swollen belly.
Swollen belly? Oh God. No, wait . . . the time line didn’t add up. Holy shit, that scared me for a second.
“You’re pregnant?” I asked, hoping that she was so I hadn’t just insulted her.
“Yeah, six months along. And engaged!” She smiled again, holding her small hand up to show me a gold ring on her finger.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, it’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?” She tucked her brown hair behind her ear and looked into my eyes, which were circled with blue rings from lack of sleep.
Her voice was so sweet that it made me feel a thousand times worse. I couldn’t stop picturing her face as she caught all of us watching her on the small screen. She’d screamed, literally screamed, and ran from the room. I didn’t follow her, of course. I just laughed at her, laughed at her humiliation and her pain.
“I’m really sorry,” I blurted. It was strange, weird, and necessary. I expected her to call me names, to tell me how fucked up of a person I am, to punch me, even.
What I didn’t expect was for her to wrap her arms around me and tell me she forgave me.
“How can you forgive me? I was so fucked up. I ruined your life,” I said; my eyes were burning.
“No, you didn’t. Well, you did at first, but in a way, it all worked out in the end,” she said, and I nearly vomited on her green sweater.
“What?”
“After you . . . well, you know . . . I had nowhere to go, so I found a church, a new church since mine exiled me, and that’s where I met Elijah.” Her face instantly lit up at the mention of his name.
“And now here we are nearly three years later, engaged and expecting. Everything happens for a reason, I guess? Sounds cheesy, huh?” She giggled.
The sound reminded me that she was always such a sweet girl. I just hadn’t given a shit; her kindness made it easier to prey on her.
“I suppose it does, but I’m really glad you found someone. I’ve been thinking about you lately . . . you know . . . what I did, and I felt like shit about it. I know you’re happy now, but that doesn’t excuse what I did to you. It wasn’t until Tessa that I—” I cut myself off.
A little smile tweaked her lips. “Tessa?”
I nearly passed out from the pain. “She’s, um . . . well . . . she’s . . .” I stutter.
“She’s what? Your wife?” Natalie’s words cut straight to the core as her eyes searched my fingers for a band.
“No, she was . . . she was my girlfriend.”
“Oh. So you date now?” she half teased; she could sense my pain, I was sure.
“No . . . well, only her.”
“I see. And now she’s not your girlfriend anymore?”
“Nope.” I brought my fingers to my lip ring.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope things work out for you, the way they have for me,” she said.
“Thank you. Congratulations on the engagement and . . . baby,” I said uncomfortably.
“Thank you! We expect to marry this summer.”
“So soon?”
“Well, we’ve been engaged for two years.” She laughed.
“Wow.”
“It was fast, soon after we met,” Natalie explained.
I felt like an asshole as soon as the words left my mouth, but I asked: “Aren’t you too young?”