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The smell of clean laundry fills my nose, and where I’d otherwise enjoy it, it’s now making me nauseated. Flipping over onto my back, I grumble to myself.
“Can’t even smell freshly washed sheets without getting sick. Great.”
Staring at the ceiling, Dad’s words swirl in my head alongside my already present doubt. I can almost hear the two sides of myself arguing about the decision.
My rational brain wants me to leave Noah. It wants me to avoid the risk and cut all the remaining ties. It reminds me how not ready I am for motherhood and how disastrous this can all play out if Natasha makes good on her threats.
My dumb heart aches at the thought of leaving Noah and Elijah. It pleads with me to stay and do whatever I can to make it work out because being around them, being with Noah, makes me happier than I’ve ever been.
It says, “Love conquers all, so we’ll pull through this somehow.”
And then I hear Dad’s words again.
“You can’t do something that will harm or be a problem for someone else.”
If this doesn’t work out, if Natasha spills my secret, or his board learns about us before we’re ready, it will be a massive problem for Noah. He could even lose Elijah.
And my dad is right. I can’t ask him to risk that.
I stand up and go to the closet, where I have a large duffle bag. Sloppily, I start throwing clothes in it that will get me by for a while.
Dad can send the rest when I can give him an address.
I go to the bathroom and start packing up all the necessities. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I look like I haven’t slept in a week.
The bags under my eyes practically reach my cheeks. I’ve heard about that pregnancy glow, which I now know for sure must be utter bullshit to make pregnant people feel better about how disgusting they feel.
“Yeah, you’re not ready for this.”
The physical state of my body seems to help solidify that I’m in the wrong position at the wrong time. What was I thinking?
No, staying here and getting involved with Noah was a terrible fucking idea. I’m doing the right thing.
“First thing in the morning, leave Dad’s place and go to Becca’s. Say goodbye to her and accept a new gig in a far-off, distant land. No more New York, no more America.”
Having made a decision eases the tension I’m carrying, but then I remember to move and get a plane ticket, I’ll need money.
I have to settle up with Noah about last week’s paycheck. His emergency trip wasn’t going to be an issue, but now that I need to leave, I can’t wait for him to send the money.
I need it now.
“Fuck. I don’t want to face him. Ugh.”
With the packed bags surrounding the bed, I sit down and then lie back. I know that going over there will make it so much harder to leave him.
Avoiding the reality of seeing him sounds so much easier. Text breakup for me, as terrible as that sounds.
But it looks like it’s not in the cards.
“At least I’ll get to say goodbye to Elijah, too.”
Realizing I should probably clue Becca in to my plan, I send her a quick text.
I need to leave town. I’m going to take a new nanny job out of the country and start fresh. Can I stay with you for a few days until I nail something down?
The reply dots come slowly, but eventually, Becca messages back.
Of course. I’m always here for you. But I think you should talk to Noah.
