Invisible Love Letter (15 page)

“I can watch her if you want to rest for a bit.”

“No, I'm okay,” I lied.

My body was weary. I sat on the couch and gazed at Jeremy as he began to tell me about himself. He explained that he wasn't a complete stranger to children; he told me about his brother and his brother’s three kids, and his sister who had four little rugrats of her own. I didn't know if it was my sleep deprived state or the fact there was another human in the house who spoke, but I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Jeremy's voice was soothing as it took away the voices in my head.

I woke up three hours later from a nap, my breasts engorged and desperate to be pumped. I peeled my eyes open and entered the twilight zone. My house was spotless, not to mention Jeremy was sitting on the other side of the couch with Lyra in his arms as she drank her bottle.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You fell asleep. I guess my conversation bored you.” He smiled. “And let's be honest, you look like you needed the extra few hours to sleep. She woke up from her nap, but luckily you’ve written her schedule down, so I knew what was next.” He was my guardian angel.

“You cleaned my house.” I stretched my arms over my head.

“I just picked up.” He shrugged.

“I don't know whether to curse you out for taking matters into your own hands, or thank you.” I stood from the couch and went to locate my breast pump.

“I'll take a thank you.” He smiled and lifted Lyra to his chest to burp her.

A
fter that day
, Jeremy became a permanent fixture in my life. He came by after work, showing up at random with food and groceries. Regardless of how hard I fought with him to stay away, he wouldn’t stop coming by. His persistence was what made me fall for him. He refused to give up.

My mind was brought back to reality by an incoming call. According to the Bluetooth screen in my car, it was Axel. I hit the ignore button. I wouldn't answer his calls when it was the wee hours in London. He’d done that one too many times before. I remembered a couple of times shortly after they left when Axel called me around the four am mark London time. I’d answer and talk to him, even though he’d be inebriated and slurring most of his words. It wasn't until I’d heard a female giggle and call out Weston's name in the background that I put a stop to it. After that night, I’d instituted a rule to never answer past ten pm their time.

Axel called again, and I hit the ignore button one more time. He must have had one hell of a night to call me twice. I pulled into Lyra's Pre-K school and ignored the phone that began to ring for the third time. If it were something important, he would leave a voice message.

I kissed Lyra goodbye at the drop-off line and returned to the car. I had five new missed calls from Axel. This was a bit excessive. He hadn't been himself lately, especially since Harry’s death. That was the last time I saw him. Coincidentally, it was also the day I stopped being friends with Leslie.

Sadly, that day I’d said goodbye to two old friends.

S
ix months earlier
.

February.

Lyra and I had driven with Jeremy down to San Francisco to see his sister, Laura, for a long weekend. Jeremy and Laura were partners in Elite Group Financing, but as Jeremy was based out of LA, his sister and her husband Nathan were based out of Shaky Town.

We were at the beach under the Golden Gate Bridge, playing in the sand, when my phone rang. I dug my sandy hand into my back pocket and pulled it out. Axel’s name appeared on the screen; it wasn’t a good time to talk to him, especially since Jeremy was around. Jeremy didn't know anything about my past. He didn't know any of my friends or the Emilia who had once lived inside me. He knew the Emilia who had walked away from it all, left all her friends behind, never told a soul about her pregnancy, except Leslie and started a new life. Talking to Axel would only open up a can of questions.

I slid my phone back in my pocket and continued to pile the cool, damp sand into Lyra’s purple plastic bin. Her eyes filled with amusement as I pulled away the bucket and the sandcastle appeared before her. My phone rang three consecutive times before I dug back into my pocket.

I assumed it was Axel again—needing to chat in his ever inebriated state—and decided to shut off my phone. To my surprise, it was Leslie's name that appeared on the screen. She’d been looking for a change after the guys left, and our relationship had become strained when I refused to talk about the baby and denied all her offers to help. She moved out when she was offered a job in Chicago.

At that point in my life, I thought I’d lose the baby; I was sure I’d miscarry because I’d been told by three separate doctors that I wouldn’t carry to term. My first gynecologist advised me to abort right away because the lining of my uterus was too thin to carry the baby. I’d never returned to his office. The second gynecologist wanted me to see a shrink and prepare myself for a miscarriage. I’d told him to fuck off. My last gynecologist agreed I wouldn’t carry to term, but she was the only one who had an action plan to get me to at least thirty-two weeks. By then the baby would be able to survive outside the womb without medical assistance.

After Leslie had moved to Chicago, her phone calls faded away and the text messages eventually stopped. Towards the end, I told her I was putting the baby up for adoption. Leslie asked me to call her when I went into labor; she wanted to be by my side. But I didn’t call. When I spoke to her after Lyra was born, I simply said that she came early and I didn't want to talk about it.

I slid my finger across the screen and brought the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Em?” Leslie's voice was strained on the other end.

“Les, what's the matter?” I rose from the sand. Jeremy looked up at me with his brows drawn. I held up a finger for him.

“Harry died.” Leslie’s sorrowful tone hit me like a kick to the gut. “He… He overdosed.” Her words bellowed through the phone. My hand clenched at my side as I walked towards the water and away from Lyra and Jeremy.

“When?” I finally spoke.

“A few days ago,” she cried into the phone. “The funeral is tomorrow. I'm getting on the red-eye. Do you need the address?”

I looked over my shoulder; Lyra's hands pushed over the sandcastle and she laughed, but Jeremy's eyebrows were furrowed together as he watched me. “Yeah,” I muttered. I needed to go. Leslie began to speak, but I couldn't hear anything; my mind was in a trance. I’d see Weston again. Was he into drugs as well? How was I going to tell Jeremy?

“Les, I gotta go. This isn't a good time.” I didn't wait for her to respond. I hung up the phone and slid it away. My face must have shown my fear and sorrow because Jeremy scooped up Lyra and ran over to me.

“Is everything okay?” He scanned my eyes, searching for answers.

“My college friend overdosed.” My voice cracked. Harry had a bright future ahead of him.

Jeremy's hand wrapped around my shoulder and he brought me close to his chest. His comfort was warming and inviting. I didn't know what to think, and I didn’t know what to feel. Harry was dead.

“When is the funeral?” Jeremy asked softly, his lips grazing my hair.

“Tomorrow.”

“We can drive up.” He was sweet for offering, but if I was going to visit my old life again, I had to do it without my new life tagging along.

“Would you mind if I went alone? I'm not ready to explain death to…” I looked at Lyra.

“No problem.” Jeremy kissed the top of my head. “We’ll pack up and head over to my sister’s to say goodbye before we hit the road. I'll stay with Lyra tomorrow while you go pay your respects.”

I wrapped my arm around his waist and lay my head on his chest. Lyra, oblivious to our conversation, took the opportunity to tie my hair in a silly ponytail.

T
he car ride
home passed in a blur.

I stared out the window and Lyra slept in her car seat as Jeremy drove us back south. My mind drifted to all the time I had spent with Harry. Though I wasn't a fan of what he had done to Leslie, Harry was a nice guy.

This must be killing Leslie.

That night, sleep never came. I lay in bed with Jeremy next to me and stared at my popcorn ceiling. Most nights we would fall asleep together, but sometime during the night I’d wake him up and ask him to go to his house. His presence in my bed would only confuse Lyra and fill her with questions I wasn’t ready to answer. I didn't want her to ask if Jeremy was her father and then a year from now he was gone. He promised he wasn't going anywhere, that he was with us for the long haul, but I’d let my guard down once before. I refused to do it again.

M
y fingers coiled
on the steering wheel as I arrived at the cemetery. I was here to pay my respects to Harry; I wasn't here to see Weston. At least that's what I kept telling myself.

As I stepped out of my car, Leslie pulled up beside me. I strolled over to her driver’s side door, my shoulders hunched in sorrow. She hugged me so tightly it felt as if all the air in my lungs had vanished. “God, Emilia,” she cried on my shoulder. My hands ran up her back to soothe her whimpers.

“It's okay,” I muttered. “I'm so sorry you're in pain.”

Leslie pulled away from me, her hands rested on my shoulders. “How are you, my friend?” I knew she was referring to my pregnancy; from her soft dark eyes I could see the underlying question.

“I'm okay.” It was a simple response, but it was the only response anyone would get today.
I'm okay.
Leslie leaned forward and hugged me once again.

Axel walked up to us, black Ray Bans covering his eyes. I released Leslie and hugged him. I’d been strong with Leslie, but with Axel I broke down. My cries were muffled by his embrace as I sobbed in his arms. He’d lost his best friend, and I knew he wouldn’t cry, so I cried for both of us. Not to mention, this was the first time I’d seen him in four years. I’d never said goodbye to him when he left. The realization brought a tsunami of tears.

“I'm so sorry.” My voice broke with every word.

Axel's hands wrapped around my back; his grip tightened as he spoke. “It's so good to see you.” We hugged for a few brief seconds until Leslie tapped my shoulder. People were headed towards the burial site. I locked my arm around Axel’s, and he led Leslie and me to where Harry's family sat in the shade of a tent.

Harry's mother sobbed at the sight of her son’s coffin.
No mother should ever have to bury a child.
After giving my condolences to his mother, brother, and two sisters, I stood next to Axel and Pete. My eyes remained glued on the priest as he spoke about Harry's life. Weston was nowhere in sight, at least not that I could see from where I stood.

Leslie’s head rested on my shoulder as Harry’s family stood to say their final goodbye, each laying a white rose on the lid of the coffin before it was lowered into the freshly dug pit. Leslie grasped my hand; a soft cry escaped her lungs as the coffin was laid to rest. Her sobs became uncontrollable, so I pulled her into my arms.

We said goodbye to a friend, a lover, a son.

Harry's family was the first to move. The crowd one by one began to move towards their cars, each stopping at Harry's grave one last time before turning. Sally, who I hadn’t seen earlier, said a quick goodbye before she followed the rest of the pack, and Axel and Pete followed after her. Only Leslie and I remained.

“I can't say goodbye,” she whispered.

“We can do it together.”

We moved closer to the coffin. My heels sank into the soft grass with each step. Leslie picked up a mound of dirt in one hand. “I'll love you always,” she said before she dropped the cool earth onto his casket. I knew her heart was dismantled.

We turned away and walked towards the rest of the gang who were still standing near the parked cars. Weston was the only one missing. It was under horrible circumstance that we were reunited. I hugged Sally and Pete. Pete asked if I was going back to Harry's mom’s home, but I declined. Leslie didn't want to go, and I knew she needed me by her side.

We stayed at the cemetery until everyone left. Leslie continued to lean against her car, gazing towards Harry's grave. Pulling a flask from her purse, she took a long swig and offered it to me but I passed. She took another swig and shoved it back in her purse. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the power to go back in time.

We stood there for almost twenty minutes before she shifted on her feet and spoke. “You know, this is all your fault.” Her voice had changed. She looked over at me, her eyes filled with hatred.

“My fault?” I drew my hand to my chest.
What the hell was in that flask?

“Yep. I started thinking about the last time I saw Harry, and I realized if you had told Weston you were pregnant, none of this would’ve happened.” Tears pooled in her eyes.

She was blaming me for his death?
“Excuse me? There’s no way you're pinning Harry's
overdose
on me.” I shook my head at her in disbelief.

“It's the truth. If you had opened your damn mouth and told Weston the truth, he would've stayed behind and Harry wouldn't have gone. I could have stayed here with him. He would be here right now!” Her voice grew higher with rage.

“Don't you dare, Leslie,” I warned through gritted teeth. “I did what I had to do to protect the ones I loved most. If I’d told Weston, it would’ve crushed his dreams, not to mention Harry’s. And if I had gone with them, how the hell would I have raised a child?”

“Anything would’ve been better than giving it away!” she cried. “You're a terrible person for not telling him. A terrible mother!”

My fist balled at my side as my words spewed from my mouth. “I'm only going to say this once, Leslie, so listen carefully. You can judge me as a person, that's fine. I'm not perfect—I’ve never claimed to be perfect. I’m a goddamn human and I make mistakes just like everyone else. But I
will
not stand here and let you criticize me for the actions I’ve made. You have no right to judge me as a mother because you aren’t one, and you have no clue what it takes to have a child. You don't know half the shit I've been through. Say what you want to say about me, but don't you dare call me a bad mother.” My heels banged against the concrete walk as I strode towards my car. Slamming my door shut, I turned my car on and gazed through the rearview mirror. Leslie was standing where I left her. It was the last time I spoke to her. The last time I saw her. As I drove away from the cemetery, I said a final goodbye to
both
my friends.