* * *
Itry to call Ricardo a couple more times before giving up. He’s not answering. It’s like his phone number has been wiped. Just tells me his mailbox is full over and over again.
I’ve tried to ring Albert but he’s not answering either. I don’t know anyone else’s number who might be able to help.
Waking up on my own is an unnerving feeling. I don’t feel safe anymore. If there was a break in, what would I do?
With Ricardo by my side, I never worried about such things. I never gave any thought to anyone trying to hurt me. He would never let that happen. But now he’s disappeared and I’ve got his baby growing inside me.
Am I going to be a single mom? Is that my lot in life? The minute I wake up in the morning, I feel nauseous. I’m not sure if it’s the pregnancy or the tension. I hate not knowing where he is.
I get out of bed and head through to the bathroom. His aftershave is still by the sink. I spray a little into the air, breathing in his scent. There’s his toothbrush, his solid silver cufflinks sitting in their box. It’s like he’s just popped out and he’ll be back any moment.
This is what it was like when Jody died. Like she’d just stepped out of the house. I remember coming back from the hospital and there was all her stuff in her room, bed unmade, clothes on the floor. She was always so messy.
A wave of grief hits me and I sink onto the toilet, my head in my hands. It takes a long time before I can get to my feet again.
I don’t want to feel this way about Ricardo. I’ve already lost one person close to me, I don’t want to lose another.
Could I go to the States? Is that feasible? He owns this place so it’s not like the rent’s going to come due any time soon. He told me to stay here, to stay hidden. But that was before he refused to take my calls anymore.
I can’t decide. I spend all day thinking about it. I don’t eat. I don’t drink. I just walk the few blocks nearest our place, treading the same paths over and over again. I probably look insane, muttering to myself as I try to work out what I should do.
If I go back, I could find him. It could be a big misunderstanding. Everything could work out okay. That’s option one.
Then there’s going back and finding out he has ghosted me. Doesn’t want anything to do with me. That’ll be a kick in the teeth but wouldn’t knowing be better than the limbo I’m currently in?
The options don’t end with two. I could go back only for Don Colombo to kill me. That’s a reason to stay far away from there, surely? At least until the baby’s born. But that’s months away.
I could stay here, of course. That is the simplest option. Do nothing. Continue with my life here as if nothing has changed. Do like Diego said, get used to the idea of being a single parent. Get used to never knowing what I did so wrong that I made him leave.
It must have been something but what? To trick me with all that talk of resolving things and then just ghost me. It hurts deep in my core that he would even do that.
Maybe he’s not done that. It’s possible this is all a big misunderstanding. And then I’m back to option one.
Round and round I go, like a fairground attraction, moving but getting nowhere at the same time. Also, getting back to where I started from every time.
It comes around to six in the evening and I’ve still heard nothing. I’ve still made no decision. It’s becoming clearer that he’s dumped me. I’m married to him. Is the next thing I’m going to see, divorce papers coming in the mail? Is that how this works?
I lock myself in our place, closing all the shutters, wanting no light inside. The darkness swallows me up as I curl up on the couch, a blanket over me.
My head is starting to hurt from thinking too much. I decide to ring my parents. I call mom first. She doesn’t answer. I try my father and he picks up at once. “Kelly,” he says down the line. “How are you?”
“How are you dad? How’s hospital?”
“The food’s bad but at least I’m alive.”
“Where’s mom? She still with you?”
“Your mother’s in the bathroom. You want to speak to her?”
“It’s all right. You on the mend?”
“Slowly. It’ll be a long time before I can tap dance again.”
“You couldn’t do it before.”
He laughs and then I hear a sharp intake of breath. “Ow, that hurts.”