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Things will either work out the way I feel like they should or I'm going to end up with a very broken heart.
Chapter 34
Claire
I know it's in my head, but my coffee tastes bitter as I sip on it this morning.
I tossed and turned all night, and although that was nothing new for me, my thoughts were riddled with regret and self-recrimination.
I was rude to Walker yesterday when I should've said thank you and kissed him while Larkin wasn't looking.
Instead, I turned into the Grinch and threw him out of the house. He no doubt spent all day getting that tree up, decorating it, and getting gifts under the tree. I imagine he thinks I'm an ungrateful person, and it doesn't sit well with me. For the first time in a very long time, I want to reach out and explain to him why I reacted that way and apologize for my behavior, but doing so also opens me up to more pain.
Folks who haven't lived the life I've lived think they understand what it's like. They say things like if I ever or had that happened to me I would but, honestly, you never know how you'd respond to any given situation until you're in it. It's the same with people who don't have kids claiming their child would never have a meltdown in a public setting, as if a parent has the ability to control every action of another person. They forget how it was for them as a child, or maybe the lack of experience makes them believe that a child is a robot and always listens to commands. Fun fact, they don't.
Just like I did multiple times last night, I stare down at my phone, the last text message he sent from two evenings ago, and another wave of regret hits me.
I fought the urge to send him a message last night and now it feels like the window for apology is up. Weeks ago, I would've argued that I was doing the right thing by cutting ties with him, but as time passes, I begin to wonder if I did the wrong thing.
I was upset and grateful and angry and happy all rolled into one, and I didn't want to have to struggle through all of those emotions with a witness. If he really wants to be with me like he claims, shouldn't I allow him to bear witness to me trying to work through all of that rather than shoving him away until I was in a better place mentally?
All I know is that I probably messed up where he's concerned, but, honestly, it's no surprise. Given two choices, I'm always going to make the wrong one.
I close out the text messages and pull up Kristina's contact information, pressing the call button and putting it to my ear.
"What's up?" she asks when the call connects. "You have to wear long pants, Justin. It's cold outside."
I smile at the hint of frustration she's trying to hide in her voice. Mornings can be rough when you have to help a child get ready while also getting ready yourself.
"I was hoping you could swing by and pick me up for work."
"Sure," she says without hesitation.
"I'd need to have you also drop Larkin off with Madison."
"Not a problem. How did she like the tree?"
It's no surprise to me that she knew about the tree. After thinking about the events of yesterday, I realized that probably more than one person at the vet's clinic knew. Corbin mentioned the possibility of staying late if we had late clients show up, even though I've worked there for three years and know how it goes. I only found it a little strange yesterday until I got home and really started thinking about it.
"She loves it," I say, looking down at my little girl who insisted on eating breakfast on the floor in front of the tree. She didn't even want the television on this morning, which is unusual for her. She doesn't always watch it, but she likes the routine and noise of it in the background while she plays.
"I bet she does," Kristina says. "I was obsessed with the lights when I was little. I could sit and watch for hours. Justin doesn't even care. He complains about there being no presents under the tree, but he's the one who opened them all three years ago and ruined the holidays. I swear boys are mischievous. He just can't be trusted. Jesus, he's in a snowsuit. I'll see you in a bit."
The call goes dead, and I have to laugh because kids can seriously run you ragged. Larkin is quite content with wearing whatever I put out for her the night before. She'd stay in her pajamas all day if I let her, but I know there will come a time when she wants to pick her own clothes. I'll have to pick my battles those days like I did this morning with breakfast on the living room floor.
I've noticed that Larkin hasn't paid much attention to the gifts under the tree other than to point out how pretty it is for the tree lights to be glinting off some of the holographic wrapping paper. I realized while staring at the tree last night after Larkin went to bed that it's in fact my tree. It has the same wonky branches that no matter which way you turn it, you can’t hide the malformation. I got it for Larkin’s first Christmas on clearance. The lights on it are limited but the ornaments are shiny, making it look fuller than it really is. It's a pitiful sort when it's unplugged, but Larkin loves it and that's all that matters.
I finish my coffee even with how bitter it tastes, grab Larkin's mostly empty plate, and carry it to the kitchen. I know better than to wash the dishes before wiping her down because she'll make more of a mess in a matter of minutes.
She pulls away from me slightly when I wipe her face.
"We have a few more minutes until we leave," I explain, having learned that going from playing and having fun to let's go doesn't work for her.
Sometimes the reminder that we have to leave the house doesn't always work, but I keep providing them.
I rush to my bathroom to run a brush through my hair and pile it on my head because I lost track of time getting lost in my head.
As I'm leaving the bathroom, a knock hits my door. I figured Kristina would text or call when she was outside, and I automatically feel like a tool for her having to give me a ride and stand out in the cold.
