People only taught their own kids what they had learned and seen from their parents, and I would rather fully commit myself to be a full-time mum and ensure my child learned how to respect others. Respect could go a long way for the wise. Negligence and ignorance, on the other hand, was the reflection of our own misguided beliefs and lacking the sense to take a step back and reassess our lives. Denial could be anyone’s downfall, which could only lead to a string of problems and failures. Then the process would repeat itself from one generation to the next.
My lunch with Ashton turned into more of a somber affair. Good-byes, regrets, and what might’ve beens became one of the topics, mostly done by him. He even took the liberty of apologizing for the fact that he had started to slowly withdraw from me after his workload doubled. He reasoned that it was due to pressure and high expectations from the company, which had led him to think that pushing the worries away about my frustrations on not successfully conceiving could be addressed later on, when things weren’t so hectic at work.
For almost two years, I had sought my own comfort and council, believing I would get better, that this bitterness inside my heart would someday disappear. I refused myself to face the bare truth—that most of the bitterness was caused by my husband’s lack of being there when I needed to simply talk. When I cried, he wasn’t there to comfort me and tell me that I wasn’t a freak of nature because I couldn’t have a baby. He only came home every night, seeing me on a daily basis. He slept in the same bed, the same room, but never once did he open up and ask me how I was feeling, how I was dealing with nature’s blatant rejection of me, or how the loneliness of being a society wife was leaving me hollow and empty inside. We both had endless regrets and well wishes for one another.
I thought it was our way of rehashing what we once had, walking through the years we had lived together, before we reached the end of the line. It was a sad, blasted day. However, even though my heart weighed heavily right then, the next day, it would start slowly recovering. Nothing lasted forever, and it was vital that I never took anything for granted from here on out.
Ashton promised to see me before he left for New York, which would happen around the time when everything was mostly settled and when the lawyers could give him the clear that they didn’t need any more information from him.
As much as I despised my father, I had to give where credit where it was due. The man had the uncanny knack of making things happen. Maybe, one day, I could thank him for it.
Hours later, I was back in the hotel, huddled on the sofa as I watched a movie. It was wrong to anticipate Reiss tonight, because I didn’t want to start a habit that would be hard to break. However, I ended up hoping he’d show up. After he left the previous night to meet his mother, I hadn’t heard from him. No call or text message. I mean, I knew he was a busy man with a hectic schedule, yet there was a part of me that argued that, after what had happened the night before, it would be reason enough for him to come back.
Although, as the hours passed, hitting past midnight, my hope trickled away.
And, just like that, my heart shattered once more.
Chapter 23
Ava
Four days. It took him four, lengthy days to visit me again. It felt like a death sentence. A bit far-fetched, but it certainly felt that way to me. Did I frighten him—was that why he was putting this unmistakable barrier between us? I couldn’t help it, the questions rounded my brain, wondering what I had done wrong. Or he could simply be busy with his woman. He did, after all, have quite a voracious appetite. I didn’t understand him at all, because it was him who had primarily initiated physical contact, and then he disappeared.
I spent the wasted days talking to Allie over the phone, updating her on how things were with me and any small detail that was happening to me during pregnancy. My father called once, but I was in the bathroom, so I missed it. Furthermore, since he didn’t bother leaving a message, I thought that it might not be that important; thus I didn’t call him back.
You see, I’d been reflecting a lot, and I supposed there was an upside to the four-day seclusion. I even came to a point where I had a pen and notepad, sometime about two in the morning, writing down the things I wanted to accomplish. It was a bucket list of sorts, and some were simple thoughts and experiences I’d be interested in for the coming months.
Prenatal yoga.
Learn to cook Reiss’s favorite dishes.
Nursery ideas.
Baby names.
Set-up a small foundation, benefiting struggling new mothers.
My list wasn’t that lengthy; however, it would be my goals for the upcoming months.
What truly took me by surprise was the last entry. I’d had no idea I wanted to make a foundation, but once the idea sunk in, I felt like a possessed woman, researching what I would need to get it going.
The small foundation would help the less fortunate new mothers with baby gear, milk, diapers, and all the other essential baby supplies that were needed. Hours were spent researching prices online and how costly it would be for a new mother to provide everything to their newborn, especially when they were single mothers.
I had read blogs, story after story about how difficult it was for teenage mothers to support a baby. Most of them relied on friends and family to gift them the items. However, with the economic downfall, there was still an overwhelming number of people who hadn’t recovered. Some even said that having a baby was a luxury that most people couldn’t afford, because the job market still struggled to get on even ground.
Reading one heartbreaking story to the next, I fully decided that I could do something to make a difference. I wanted to partake in helping them. Even if it wasn’t handing them financial security, a little help could go on a long way. As long as I made a difference to their lives, easing their hardship one way or the other, it would be sufficient enough. Be it a stroller, a three-month supply of milk, or a month’s worth of diapers, at least it would help them somehow.
The monthly income I had from my investment dividends wouldn’t be enough if I wanted the foundation to be a large scale one. Of course, there was the option of running a fundraiser, but that would take up a lot of time and playing nice to wealthy people that I wasn’t so fond of. Therefore, that might not be something I’d be willing to do. It was a catch-22. Tricky, really. Well, I supposed there was the internet—emails, to be precise.
Going through my contact list, I had an excellent network of friends and acquaintances who might be willing to do a donation via online payments. All I had to do was set up a website enlightening them about it.