hiraeth part 2

260Throughout my life, confessing anything to my mom instantly made it real.  I had hid my pregnancy from her for weeks.  I had just gotten myself pregnant, confessed to her, and aborted that baby to turn around and get knocked up again.  I waited to tell her because surly this could not be happening.  But of course it was, because there was this nugget of a thing encircled in a sack growing within me.  It still wasn’t real until mom knew.

This could not be real.  I could not speak it.

I waited outside in the cold January air shivering uncontrollably.  But not from the temperature.  My nerve’s had gone wild.  Over an hour I stood there shaking.  I fell into all 98 pounds of my mom and she held me.  She cried for me.

My coworkers, my mom, dad, and stepdad stared at me.  They could say nothing.  It was if they were waiting to see what my next move was to react upon it.  They didn’t know what else to do.

I couldn’t go home.  I was scared of how that’s make me feel.  Scared of what I would find.  I asked to be taken to Daniel’s parents.  I had no where else to go that would calm me.  I needed to see them for myself to know this was true.

I called my other job to say I didn’t know when I’d be back.  I called my landlord and told him I was leaving.  I called Kellette.  He thought I was going to tell him his best friend had just proposed.  He layed on the floor, spread eagle, and sobbed.  I called Shannon.  Robbie had been like a brother to Daniel and had just passed away the week of Daniel’s 30th birthday, which had only been four months ago.  We know had something in common.  Previously, nothing.  I called Niti.  I called Kaitlyn.

I had started my period at work and couldn’t wait to tell Daniel, “No baby Gillis,” which he hated.  I would tease him about me being pregnant and relieve him of his stress by overly announcing my period.  I needed to call him and tell him.

It took another hour to get to the farm.  The house was already full.  Someone had set a photo of Daniel and I that had been taken just two weeks prior on the island in the kitchen.  I thought it was odd.  It was uncomfortable.

Richard wasn’t crying.  Debra was busy making notes of who brought what dish.  Who the fuck cares I thought.  Why aren’t these people emotional?  Do I need to be more emotional so they’ll know I loved him?  Do they blame me?  Is this something I could have prevented?  Should I have seen it coming? i was the last one to see him alive.  Are they mad I wasn’t home?

Non emotional and stand offish.  Everyone.  It was strange.  And I was bleeding profusely with no tampons.

 

 

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