“Did you respect Mom when you cheated on her?” I snap.
I’m so angry that I don’t even regret my words. I get the expected silence from the other line. Then I hear the click of a receiver.
Someone’s hung up on me.
“Dad?” I ask tentatively.
“That was your mother,” he says in a defeated whisper.
“I’m not going to apologize,” I say, knowing that I sound like a petulant little kid. “It’s the truth. You have no right to lecture me about relationships.”
“Who told you about the affair?” he asks. He says it like it’s a dirty word. I suppose it is.
I close my eyes. “I overheard you and Mom fighting about it one day.”
I can practically hear him nodding somberly. “It was one time and it was a mistake. The worst mistake of my life.”
“Because you loved Mom? Or because you got caught?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“The right one,” I say. “I know you, Dad. You and Mom. The two of you live your lives by this rulebook that doesn’t always make sense. Tell me, do you love Mom?”
He doesn’t answer.
I nod frantically. “You see?” I continue. “I want to do things because they feel right to me. Not because I feel morally obligated to. I don’t see the point in making decisions like that.”
“Sometimes, Jessa… I don’t understand you.”
That cuts deeper than I thought it would. “Listen, Dad, I didn’t mean for this to become a big fight. I just wanted to let you know you were going to be grandparents. I thought you’d be happy.”
“We’ll be happy to have you home one day. With your child. And your husband.”
He makes sure to emphasize the last word.
“Is that the only way I’ll be welcomed back?”
“Jessa…”
That's enough of an answer. I don’t need to hear any more.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
I hang up and then immediately burst into tears. I feel stupid. Stupid for calling, stupid for caring, stupid for thinking they’d be happy about my news.
I consider cooking and decide against it. I consider walking and decide against it. In the end, I just wander aimlessly around the room, picking things up and putting them down with no purpose in mind.
The truth is, I know the only thing that will make me feel better right now is seeing Anton. But the suite remains eerily quiet. His smell is everywhere, but he is nowhere.
I find a half-baked brownie from yesterday’s aborted cooking and sit in the living room to eat it while watching the sunset. But when I’m done, I feel emptier and lonelier than before.
So I head to my bedroom and put on one of the nightgowns Anton brought for me. I climb into bed, but it’s only nine o’clock. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep. Not with all this pent-up frustration raging inside of me.
I need an outlet.
I need Anton.
And somehow, the two needs spark a desire inside me that I can’t seem to get rid of. My center throbs, making me aware of how long it’s been since he last touched me.