Page 302 - Reason To Sing by Kelita Haverland
P. 302

Reason To Sing


          a first date. “Do you want to talk to him?” Judy has appeared
          in the doorway, hand covering the phone’s receiver. “You don’t
          have to, you know.”
              I don’t even waste a beat. “No, I know, but I will.”
              “Come take it in the bedroom.” Judy hands me the phone
          and closes the door to give me some privacy. I sit on the edge
          of the bed. For a second, I feel like a schoolgirl. I am bathed in
          nervous energy as Gord and I exchange surface greetings. Then
          I ask, “How is Keldon doing? Does he miss me?”
              “Of course he does!” Gord replies emphatically, “but we’re
          doing fine. We’ve been going to the park a lot. You know he
          loves the swings. It’s hard to get him off them.”
              His voice is gentle. Soothing. As if he is holding his breath.
          Just hearing him confirms how much I still love him. All I
          want is to keep speaking with him forever. But my gut reminds
          me of the cold, stinging truth: he might not be mine for much
          longer. I feel such a deep, overwhelming ache. I know he’s a
          mess. I can hear it in his voice. My heart breaks for him and
          the pain he must be feeling. I give my head a shake. Isn’t it just
          like me to want to comfort the person who hurt me. I used to
          be like that with Hudson.
              “You know, I hate all of this,” he whispers. “I have never
          wanted to hurt you. You’ve got to believe me. I’ve detested all
          the lying and hiding. Every part of it. And I’ve hated myself
          too.”
              I say nothing. I don’t know how to respond. The wounds are
          so raw and open. He continues, “I care about you. I hope you
          can believe that. I love you and Keldon.”
              Excuse me? “That’s not what you told me a year ago.” How
          could I ever forget those words!
              “I know. I know.” He pauses but I refuse to fill the gap. I
          want to hear his words with no prompting from me. “That was


                                      288
   297   298   299   300   301   302   303   304   305   306   307