“You’re a smart, college educated man. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Goddammit, would you stop being a bitch for one fucking minute!” I sit silently, stewing in my rage, while Levi formulates whatever he needs to formulate. “Fine,” he finally huffs. “You want to know the story, then I’ll give you the trimmed down version of it.”
Crossing my legs Indian style, my grip on the phone tightens in preparation of his explanation.
“You wouldn’t take money from David. When you did that, he made no bones about it. He knew you would fail and he couldn’t wait to see it happen. He laughed about it over dinner one night and I was so fucking sick of his pompous, self-righteous arrogance that I snapped. I did some digging and found someone who was willing to invest in your company and the rest, as they say, is history.”
I suck in an audible breath. I know I should be flattered and grateful for what he did, but at the same time I’m hurt. “So my success is because of you.” I don’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but it kind of is. I feel betrayed. Sullied. I wanted so much to do this on my own. I thought I had broken away from David Black and his extensive influence and forged my own path. I thought I had done it all on my own, only to find out now that my success is not my own. I’m still indebted, and it’s to another Black.
“No, princess. Your success is yours. It belongs to you one hundred percent. I have nothing to do with that. It’s all you, baby,” Levi soothes.
“Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to do this on my own? That I returned David’s money because I didn’t want it?”
“I was just trying to help.”
“If I wanted your help, I would have asked for it! I didn’t want to build my name from yours. This was the one thing I had that was completely mine. The one thing I could be proud of because I did it on my own,” I cry. And maybe I’m being a whiny bitch, but I feel as if everything I knew was a lie. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she finds out that the wizard is just a man pulling strings behind a curtain.
“I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal out of this!” Levi shouts back. “I did it for you. Everything I’ve done has been for you!”
“Oh yeah? And what have you done exactly, Levi? Except run across the country, leaving me here to deal with a bunch of bullshit. You have people that shelter you from everything, but what do I have? Every day I sit here, gestating, unable to leave the house for fear of being mauled or verbally attacked or criticized for everything I do or say or how I look. You said that we would do this together. You said that we could get through it if we were together, but newsflash! You have to actually be here for that to work.”
I sense his frustration, hear it in his labored breaths. When Levi speaks, his voice is tight. “I’m trying. What more do you want from me?”
My eyes widen. Is he fucking kidding me? “I want you here! Is that so hard to comprehend?”
“Well, I can’t be there right now, all right? I’m trying, dammit, but this shit takes time.”
Furious, I glare out the single window across from me as if he’s standing on the other side. “Well, time is running out.”
“What are you saying, Vista? Are you breaking up with me?”
My heart stutters at the mere mention of it. It’s not something I want, but I know it’s a possibility, and the more time he spends away, the more I’m beginning to think it might be inevitable.
“I’m saying…I’m saying that this baby isn’t going to wait, and…and I’m not sure I’m willing to either.”
The line grows deathly quiet and I know that this is it. This is the deciding factor. I’ve placed the ball firmly in Levi’s court. What he does with it now is entirely up to him.
“You need to figure out what your priorities are,” I tell him softly, not even trying to hide the thick sadness filling every cell in my body until it bleeds over, filling every word.
He still hasn’t responded, but I know he hasn’t hung up. I imagine him sitting there, just as I am, too stunned for words. If it was just me, I might reconsider my approach, but my priorities have shifted and it’s about time that Levi’s did, too. The sooner, the better.
***
Levi isn’t speaking to me. All calls have stopped. He no longer checks in at night or in the morning. I miss it. I miss him. I didn’t think I could get any lonelier when he left me that day in my apartment, but now I know that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth is, it’s so much worse than I imagined.
All the books mention post-partum depression. What about during-pregnancy depression? Why doesn’t anyone ever mention that?
Other than the hours I force myself to go to work or make a doctor’s appointment, I stay locked inside my apartment. On the weekends, I don’t even bother getting out of bed. Everyone at work is looking at me like I might break any second. I don’t have the energy to tell them I won’t.
My doctor is worried about me. Apparently, I’m losing weight instead of gaining it, but I lie and tell her it’s because I’ve been eating healthier and exercising. I’m not sure she buys it.
My mom is growing suspicious, too. She won’t text me anymore, choosing to call my landline instead of the cell phone, and I answer every time. She says it’s a red flag. I’m not getting out of the house enough. My lackluster responses aren’t helping either. So, she’s planning a trip to town to see for herself that I’m doing okay.
Normally, I’d be thrilled to have her, but I’m not really looking forward to the company this time. The outside world could burn to the ground and it wouldn’t bother me a bit. I like my bed, I like my space, and I like the quiet. I just want to be left alone.
Today is one of those rare days that I have to venture out. I’m not exactly happy about it, because I know what to expect.
I sit on the paper-covered table, trying not to move around too much so it won’t crinkle. The doctor sits in front of me on her rolling stool, studying my chart with a critical eye.
“You’ve lost a few more pounds,” she says with a crease in her tawny brow. “Vista, is there anything going on that you’d like to talk to me about? Perhaps something to do with why you’ve come alone the last few visits?”
Of course, she would notice Levi’s absence. Maintaining my focus, I tell her with a falsely chipper voice, “Nope, everything is going really well. Like I told you before, I’m eating a lot of fruits and vegetables now, and I’m trying to stay away from carbs and sweets.”
“That might have explained it the last two visits, but it should have evened out by now,” she scolds. “You should be gaining weight, not losing it. How much are you exercising?”
“Not a lot. Just a little here and there. Nothing strenuous.”
Her worried expression deepens and she sets her clipboard down on the counter and rolls closer with a concerned look in her eyes. “Vista, I’m not good with beating around the bush, so I’m going to be very blunt with you and I want you to answer me honestly. Can you do that?”
“Um…sure. Okay.”
Her intense golden brown eyes hold mine. “Do you have an eating disorder?”
My eyes shoot open wide, shocked that she would think that of me. “What? No! I would never starve my baby.”
She doesn’t look convinced. Sitting up straight, she retreats a foot, giving me the space I desperately need and saving herself from a foot in the face. How dare she?
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are. Many women struggle with it during pregnancy. It’s difficult to see your body changing, and often, women can feel as if they don’t know their body anymore, like they are losing control.”