Shoe Strings

He knew he had to push her, despite her
pleas.   It was the only way she’d
let him in.  
    “I don’t want you here.   I can’t go through it again.   I won’t.”
    He put his jeans on and followed her to the den where she
stood, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her stare frigid, her mouth
tight in a stubborn line.   “Please
go.”
    If she wanted anger, he’d give her anger.   “You think I don’t know what it’s like
to hit rock bottom?   You think my
life’s been a friggin’ picnic?”   He
moved to stand in front of her, forced her to look up at him.   “I had what you lost and, by the grace
of God, I still do.   But I didn’t
want it—back then.   When Kerri
Ann told me she was pregnant, I thought it was the end of my life.   All I could think about was me—how
my life would change, how my dreams were dead.   It never occurred to me that there’d be
a baby, a little life we’d created.   Even when he was here and we were married, I still didn’t want it.   I didn’t want to be eighteen, nineteen,
twenty years old going to school at night and working all day long to support a
wife and kid.   I didn’t want to be
married, I didn’t want to be a father.   I wanted to be single, successful, and living the life I’d dreamed about
living.” He ticked the points off on his fingers, watched the anger grow more
pronounced on her face, red with fury.
    “The only thing I saw as holding me back,” he continued,
“were the two people who loved me enough to let me go.   And I went—I didn’t give anyone a
chance to change their mind.   It
took me three years to realize they hadn’t held me back, but propped me up and
gave my life more value than it could ever have without them.   So I came back on my own and begged for
Kerri Ann’s friendship and my son’s love and, as you know, they both let me
have them back without question, without thought, without hesitation.”   He reached out for her arm and she jerked
away.   He grabbed her hand and held
tight.
    “I took what you lost and threw it away for awhile and thank
God I got it back.   Thank God.   So I want you to tell me what it was
like for you when you lost your baby.   Your lowest moment.”
    “I don’t want your pity.”   She tried to rip her hand free.   He held tight.
    “I don’t pity you.   I want to know you, really know you.”
    “By making me relive the most painful time of my life?”
    He loosened his grip when she struggled against him, watched
her pace to the window and look down at the street.   “Yes, if that’ll help me understand
you.   If that’ll let you realize I’m
not going to run away if things get messy or complicated or real.   I’m done running, Angelita.   Life’s about living, not about
hiding.”   He walked to her, put his
hands on her shoulders, felt them tremble through the thick material.   “Tell me about your worst.   The rest will be so much easier after
that.   Let it all out, Angelita, and
we’ll deal with it together.   You
won’t be alone this time.”
    ***
    Lita stood at the window, saw the heavy leaves from the
magnolia tree shimmy in the light breeze, felt the heat of Jesse’s hands on her
shoulders, the heat from her anger and pain festering deep inside.   She never thought he’d do this to her,
force her to feel the pain again.   It remained so fresh, just under the surface, so easily tapped.   It could put her under again.   “If you care about me at all, you
wouldn’t ask me to talk about this.   It’s too much.”
    “I more than care about you, Angelita.”   He turned her around, forced her to look
up at him with firm pressure on her chin.   “I’m in love with you.”
    She felt the sting of tears on her face, hot and thick,
tasted the salt in her mouth.   “Don’t say that.”
    “Why?”  
    She tried to turn back to the window, couldn’t look at him
and say what she knew to be true in her heart.   He grabbed her shoulders so she couldn’t
move.   “No one has ever loved
me.”   She wiped her face with the
sleeve of her robe.   “You may think
you do now, but you won’t for long, trust me.”
    “Now that’s just about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    She shouldered past him, grabbed a paper napkin from the
kitchen counter, and blew her nose.   She knew she had to explain it all to him, if only to save him later
pain.   “I was seventeen when I got
pregnant.   I’d been dating the son
of one