The next day, Monday, he says he will come over that night. When I call him after work and he says he will leave in a couple of hours to head toward my place. As the time passes, I text him to find out when he will be over….and he never arrives. The next day comes, and he says he misses me and wants to see me, so he is definitely coming over. He never does.
Every day, for the next week, he tells me he will come over, and as the days pass, I never see him. Even though we talk and text every day, that’s not enough for me. I want to spend time with him. I would think he would want to see me too. Why doesn’t he make more of an effort to see me? Why does he tell me each day he will come over, and he never does?
On Sunday, I finally say, “It’s been a week, what’s going on?”
“I’ve been really busy with work.”
“I understand that, but I want to see you.”
“I’ll come over today.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
At this point, my patience has dwindled to none existent, and I don’t believe him. He has told me for the past six nights he would come over, and I have yet to see him.
A few hours later, there is a knock at my door. I open it, to see Jason, who doesn’t utter a single word initially. He rushes toward me and intensely kisses me and then says, “Hi.”
I continue, “I didn’t think you were coming over.”
“I really can’t stay. My brother is cooking dinner for me, because he is leaving for several months. So they are waiting on me for dinner. But I couldn’t go without seeing you first.”
“Are you serious? You really aren’t staying?”
“No, I can’t.”
He kisses me again, and our bodies can’t resist each other, no matter how hard I try.
He gets to my place and leaves in less than an hour and promises he will be back tonight. I immediately miss him. My time with him was so quick; it can’t even really count as spending time with him.
A couple of hours later, I ask if he is on his way to my place, and he texts, “I’m staying at my brother’s tonight.”
I figured as much.
Tears well up in my eyes, as I feel let down yet once again.
Over the next few days, we continuously text. Then a thought pops into my head. I feel like I’m the one who is constantly communicating…I feel like I’m somewhat chasing him. What would happen if I stop initializing conversation? Would I still talk to him? Would he call me? Or would all communication stop?
So I stop texting and calling just to see what happens…to see if he is going to call or text without responding to me. As that same day passes, and I don’t hear from him, I begin to wonder…Am I right? Is it all me doing the communicating? Does he really not want anything to do with the baby and just said that? I’m not giving up yet.
The next day comes and goes, and I still don’t hear from him. My heart sinks as the week passes, and I never once hear from him. I finally text him with the information (doctor’s name, address, date, and time) for my first doctor’s appointment. Surely he will respond.
He never does. I call him after the appointment and leave a message. I receive no reply. My heart breaks into a thousand pieces. I call a few days later and leave another message. I get no response.
I have a shirt of his that I want to return. So a week later, I leave it on his door, as I knock and walk away. As I wait for the elevator, I see his door open but never see him.
Later that night, he texts me and says, “I know you don’t understand this, but I’m really busy with work, and that’s my priority right now.”
I respond, “You’re right. I don’t, but okay.”
He texts, “I need you to minimize communication and maintain distance until further notice.”
What the heck? Who does he think I am? Does he think I’m one of his buddies who is in the military? Does he think he can say that to me, and I’ll be okay with that? What the heck? Who does he think he is talking to?
I reply, “Understood.”
And with that, I’m done. I’m done trying. I’m done fighting for us. I’m done trying to make it work. I’m done caring. I’m done. I’m done. I’m just done.
I don’t want to have anything to do with someone who speaks to me like that. I don’t want to be involved with someone who thinks it’s okay to talk to me like that and it’s acceptable. I don’t want that person in my life. And just like that, I’m completely and utterly done.
My phone rings on Mother’s Day, and it’s Jason. I answer, “Hello.”
“Hi. How are you?
“Good.” How the hell does he think I am?
He says, “I’m at the airport leaving town for Arizona for work.”
“How long will you be gone?
“About ten days. Are you really okay?”
“Yes,” besides the fact that I’m puking, and you didn’t go to the first doctor’s appointment with me like you said you would, and that you won’t return my calls or texts. Yes, I’m perfectly fine.
“Okay. I’ll call you when I land. I love you.”
Stunned by his “I love you,” I can’t even fathom why he would say that.
I shake my head (more for my benefit than anything) as I say, “Bye.” If that’s his idea of love, I don’t want any part of it.
I text him later that night to see if his flight got in. I don’t get a response. I text him four days later asking again if he wants to have anything to do with the baby? He doesn’t respond. So I send him this text, “Go out and live your life. I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with us. Go date and fall in love and have a great life. I relieve you of all responsibility and obligation with the baby. We will be fine. Take care.”
He responds, “Disgusting.”
“What’s disgusting? You won’t return my messages or calls, so I have no idea how you feel.”
“I’ll call you when I can.”
I don’t hear from him again….until two weeks later when he texts me at 11:30 pm, “I’m here, right down the street.”
He gets the same reply I got so often from him….a whole lot of nothing. And that is the last time I’ve heard from him.
And so yes, I finally got my answer. His actions told me everything I needed to hear. He was too cowardly to verbalize it. He was too ashamed, embarrassed, or proud to admit it, but I finally got my answer without his having to say it.
It may not be the answer that I originally hoped for. It may not be the answer that I thought I wanted. But it’s the answer that I got. It’s the answer that I was meant to have. It’s the answer that is ultimately best for my son and me. It is the answer that I am now so thankful for. What a blessing in disguise. Yes, yes, yes, I finally got my answer….and I’m perfectly good with it!
Read "Letting Go" to find out what A Clueless Mom does next.
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