Please Don't Forgive Me

We got back home and I went to take a nap in my room. My room was cold and empty and void of life as I hadn’t inhabited it for a while. Garrett slipped off his shoes and tried to curl up next to me. I quickly rolled away before he could wrap me in his arms. He tried again, but I pushed him away. “Just don’t touch me!” I said quickly. “Just leave me alone.” This only made him more eager to wrap me up in his warm embrace. “I said don’t touch me,” I hissed venomously crawling out of my bed.

“What did I do?” he asked clearly baffled. I walked out of the room and stretched out on the couch, Garrett following close behind. “Anika, what did I do?”

“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want this?” I asked angrily. I knew I would feel bad about this later, but for sure, a good part of it was resultant of my raging hormones.

“That you don’t want to do what? Have the babies?” he asked softly. I could probably stab him and kill him and he would apologize to me for nothing with his dying breath. He was so sickeningly sweet sometimes when all I needed was to yell.

“That I don’t want to do this all alone!” I yelled. I was quite pissed off and for no good reason. I knew this is how things would end up.

“But you aren’t alone Ani. You have me and you have the guys and your mom and Mia and Allison and Hannah and the girls you work with.” He was trying to prove a point that just couldn’t be proved.

“My mom?” I asked incredulously. “My mom would probably pay me to have an abortion so that I wouldn’t disgrace her family. And you?” I laughed loudly. “You’re gone most of the time and I can’t exactly go with you. Especially when I’m pregnant. And what happens when it’s a few months from now and I go into labor? What city are you going to be in Garrett? And are you going to be able to get here before the birth? And if you get here how many hours old are they going to be when you have to duck out to catch the next flight back?” I yelled. I was winded and angry and I could feel the tears pricking the corners of my eyes. He stared at me sorrowfully. “And it isn’t like I can ask you to stay, because I know you can’t. I know you need to do this more than anything now, and I know you would be here if you could. I shouldn’t even be mad because I knew what I was getting into, but I am. I am livid.” The tears wouldn’t stay behind my eyes. They were leaking out and hitting the fabric of my shirt, soaking through. “I don’t want to do this by myself.”

“You won’t be alone,” he promised. He extended his arms to wrap me up in a hug and I finally melted into his arms.

“But you don’t understand. I will be alone. I am alone. Even if you were home for the entire time I was pregnant, where would you be on their first birthday? When they said their first words? When they learned to walk? What coast would you be on? Or better yet what continent?”

“So you want an abortion?” he asked confused. I shook my head no quickly, because I didn’t. “Then what do you want? Because I can’t tell.”

“I want normality. I want to be stronger. I want stability. I want you, by my side.” I sobbed and sighed into his chest. “I just wish I could keep you here.”

“I’ll be here until Thanksgiving and then for Christmas and I’ll talk to the guys about after that. They understood when I left; they’ll understand if we have to back out of the next tour.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. I won’t be that girl. I won’t be the one who asks you to drop out because of me. I won’t do that to you or the band. I won’t.” I sighed and looked down. “Do you have a tour booked for when I’ll be due?” I asked quickly. He shook his head ‘no.’ “Then all I ask is that you don’t book one. I want you to be here when I go into labor. I can’t do it without you.” He nodded and sighed burying his head in my hair.

“I’ll be here. I promise.”

Promises aren’t always so easy to keep.