The Dark Side Returns

This chapter is about another negative change that we experienced.

The following Friday, J.C. received the news that his first child was going to be a little boy, for whom he chose the name Harley Craig. Even though I still harbored all of the fears that I expressed to you earlier in this story, I had finally reached the point where I was ready to just go with the flow and actually be really happy and excited about everything. I imagined little Harley Craig as a beautiful little boy with his daddy's eyes and smile. And I knew that if he turned out to be even one-tenth of the man that J.C. was...I would have absolutely no problem whatsoever loving him with all of my heart.

 

On the morning of Saturday, June 25, J.C.'s alarm clock went off at around 8:00, as it always did since I had to be on the road back to Alto to get ready for work at Etech in Rusk. Although he didn't have to be up for another three and a half hours or so, he got up as well to walk me to my car.

 

I got all of my stuff together while he crossed the room to the dresser to check his phone. While I can't remember the song that started playing in the moments before I lost my virginity, I can remember the song that started playing as I gathered my belongings that morning--'Knee Deep,' by the Zac Brown Band and Jimmy Buffett.

 

Hugging me good-bye when we arrived at my car was most certainly not a new thing for him to do, but that morning, the way that he did it was new. Usually, our Saturday-morning hugs were quite short--there was really no need for long good-byes when we would be spending that night and the next day together.

 

On that particular Saturday morning, however, he held onto me for what seemed like minutes longer. In reality, it was probably only a few seconds more than normal, but still...it was enough to get me thinking that there was something going on. Don't get me wrong, I definitely wasn't complaining about the extra time spent in his arms...but I knew that there was something off.

 

Seeing as how I had to hit the road right then to avoid being late for work, I decided not to mention anything about it to him. In the event that he decided to tell me about it as we texted during my drive home, I would, of course, willingly discuss it with him. However, if he refrained from providing any information, I intended to wait until we reunited that night, when I would have more time and the ability to devote my full attention to whatever the problem was.

 

As I started driving, I texted him to let him know that I'd had fun the night before and couldn't wait to be back with him that night, also telling him that I loved him. His response was somewhere along the lines of, "Me, too, love you, too," which did not raise any red flags with me. However, at the conclusion of the message was something that raised just about every red flag in existence. It was a sad face.

 

My response--which I sent immediately--was somewhere along the lines of, "What's wrong, baby?" with a sad face of my own. Silently praying that everything was okay (even though I knew in my heart that it wasn't), I put my phone in my lap and continued to drive as I waited...and waited...and waited...for his answer.

 

I had just come out of Wells when my phone vibrated in my lap (so, in reality, I had only been waiting for about five minutes or a little more, although it felt more like forever). My hands shook and my heart pounded as I picked up my phone and accessed the message...only to find that one of my biggest fears had become a reality.

 

"Marie's saying she lost the baby. Now, I can't get her to anwer."

 

Some girls in my position might have been relieved upon hearing that. After all, it meant no more fears; no becoming a stepmother figure when I was practically still just a kid myself; no "baby mama drama." However, I was anything but relieved about it. The drive from Wells to my house was a little over ten minutes, and I spent every single second of that time in tears as I texted J.C. and let him know how incredibly sorry I was for his loss...a loss that I felt was my loss as well.

 

Work was horrible that day. My aunt, Carol, worked at Etech as well, and she drove me to work that morning since my mom didn't want me driving in such a fragile emotional state. She also quietly explained my situation to our supervisor, Gigi, who was sweet enough to make sure that everyone pretty much left me to myself throughout the day. I did my best to sound cheerful as I spoke to customers about furthering their educations and fought back the urge to just break down crying in front of everyone in the office. All I wanted to do was be with J.C. and hold him...and I yearned to be able to speed up time so that I could.

 

I  had been home for about two and a half hours (thankfully, my workday only lasted from 9:00 in the morning until 2:00 in the afternoon on Saturdays) when J.C. texted me and told me to go ahead and come over; he hadn't been able to stick it out and get through his shift at work. Of course, I immediately packed my bag and jumped in the car for the drive to Pollok.

 

He was outside with his mother when I pulled up. As soon as I got out of the car, I hugged him tightly, not saying anything; just holding him. He had told me that morning that he would explain what exactly happened to Harley, but he never mentioned it, and I didn't have the heart to bring it up; I wanted to avoid upsetting him as much as possible.

 

As we lay in bed that night, the song 'Red Ragtop,' by Tim McGraw, came on the radio. If you've ever heard that song, then you know that the subject of the second verse is abortion--which hadn't happened in this situation, but obviously still involves the untimely death of an unborn fetus. I could tell that J.C. was saddened by this; he wouldn't admit it, but he was crying as he listened to the song. The next morning, I woke up before he did, and one of the first songs that I heard was 'If He's Anything Like Me,' by Brad Paisley. That song brought tears to my eyes, and I silently prayed that J.C. would remain peacefully asleep so that he wouldn't have to hear it and suffer any further heartbreak (thankfully, as far as I know, he did sleep through it).

 

Eventually, it was revealed that his ex-girlfriend had never actually been pregnant; he had been right all along when he had accused the pregnancy of being a scheme on her part to win him back. Even so, I still catch myself wondering from time to time--such as on November 2, which is when Harley would have been due--how things would be if she actually had been pregnant.