Cordelia was sitting at her kitchen table enjoying a nice Saturday brunch that consisted of a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream and a cup of her favorite coffee. She hadn’t seen Jackson in 2 days, nor had she heard a word from him. She wondered if it had something to do with her drunkenness Thursday night…or maybe the emotional display at the coffee house; she glanced over at her counter where the half empty bottle of vodka sat and just shook her head. She went back to reading an article she had to write a review on for her Monday night class when there was a knock at her door. She set down her mug and reached for the sweater behind her, pulling it over her shoulders. It didn’t have to be buttoned up so long as her arms were covered.
She walked across the apartment to the front door and pulled the door open. “Jax! What are you doing here?” she asked.
He stood at the door stone-faced serious. “Cordelia, I want to talk to you and I want the truth.” His voice was steady and deep, it almost scared Cordelia...he didn’t even bother to call her ‘Delia’ like he always did; it was the equivalent of growing up and hearing your mother shout your first and middle name…you knew you were in for it then.
“O…okay,” she stuttered, “sure. Come on in, do you want some coffee?”
“No. Sit down,” he commanded. In all the time Cordelia had known Jackson, he had never ever been like this with her. She immediately walked over and took a seat on the couch. He sat down close next to her.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards him. She instantly tried to pull her arm back, fearing he would discover her scar. Too late, he pushed her sleeve up and turned her arm over, “What is this?” he questioned.
Blunt as she usually was she answered simply in a sarcastic tone, “a scar…”
He looked into her eyes, which looked as fearful as if he had been the one to cut her wrists. She stared back at his intense eyes, so full of concern, “I’m serious. Is this what you didn’t want to tell me about your past?” he questioned.
Cordelia angrily jerked her arm back, covering the scar with her sleeve again. “I really….really don’t want to get into it,” she said forcefully swallowing down the lump in her throat; she refused to cry on his shoulder again. “You won’t want to hear what I have to say,” she insisted standing up and turning her back to him. She was so ashamed of the choices she had made and would give almost anything to go back and have a re-do on her life.
“Delia,” he said much more softly, “what would make you do that to yourself?”
“I made some mistakes, okay? I made some mistakes that I couldn’t forgive myself for,” she explained, hoping that would be enough.
Jackson sighed then stood up and turned Cordelia to face him, “what mistake is worth your life?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you that. Isn’t it enough to know that I have moved on now? Besides, you’d never forgive me for my mistake either and I can’t put myself through that.” Her voice was shaky, it was impossible to conceal the pain she was feeling.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, changing the focus, “you messed it all up.” His voice also sounded hurt, “I loved you with every breath I took. I loved you the instant I met you. We HAD something, Delia. You know that. Why would you leave in the middle of the night without so much as a word?”
“It wasn’t anything you did,” she paused, looking up at the ceiling she blinked rapidly to hold back her tears, “not directly…it was just one of many mistakes. Did you ever think maybe you messed it all up?” she blurted out.
Jackson looked shocked and more than offended at the comment, “me? I’m sorry, I’m not the one that skipped town. If it was my fault, you have to tell me what I did.”
Cordelia realized how much her words must have stung, “I never stopped loving you…” she mumbled, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. Jackson wrapped his arms around Cordelia, “then tell me what happened,” he urged her, speaking softly into her ear.
“It was years ago, you’re engaged now, can’t we just drop it?” she begged. “Delia,” he turned her to face him, “what HAPPENED?” He held firmly onto her shoulders so she couldn’t turn around again.
“We did have something…” she started, not sure how she would explain herself; especially because she knew he’d likely never speak to her again once she told him...but she couldn’t carry this secret alone for the rest of her life. “It was that night…you remember. We went out partying but we couldn’t keep our hands off each other that night, it was like we couldn’t lie to ourselves anymore…at least I couldn’t.” She looked into his eyes to see if he was following the story.
Jackson, naturally, was clueless to what that night had to do with anything, “I remember it like it was last night…what does that have to do with anything?”
“Jackson, that night was…amazing, I had been dreaming of being with you. Only….I didn’t know if you felt the same as I did.”
“Delia, of course I did. I still don’t get it, what does that have to do with you slicing your wrists?”
She sighed and thought for a moment, biting her bottom lip as she thought, “Well…you, uh…there was…no…” she sighed again as she thought some more.
Jackson continued to hold on to her, afraid she’d try to walk away or change the subject, “Delia, just TELL me,” he urged, “everything was fine after that night…you didn’t disappear until a month later. I thought we were in love until that happened.”
“Well…I guess I doubted that for some reason. I was…unusually emotional,” she hinted. “A few weeks later I found out I was…” she took a deep breath, “I found out I was pregnant and I freaked!” she finally blurted out, dragging it on like she was only made it harder for her to reveal the truth, “after crying alone in my room for nearly 24 hours straight, I packed and left.”
“You…you were WHAT?” he asked, as if he hadn’t understood what she had just said.
“I was pregnant…from that night we were together,” she said with raised eyebrows. “I doubted how you would handle something like that so I headed up to my sister’s upstate where I went to see a doctor.”
“So…wait,” he said, not sure if he should ask the question, but after a moment’s hesitation, the question finally rolled off his tongue, “what happened to the baby?”
To Be Continued
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