Page 53 of Ghosted By Texas

There was a pause in what he was saying, and I could imagine the level of frustration that was building for him. I tried not to care because he had been a cold-hearted coward where I was concerned. He might not have lied to me, but he ignored me and held back the truth that might have given me closure and at least the modicum of dignity that he’d left me for a child, not for her. Still, what did the woman plan on doing when she was supposed to start showing?

“I can’t even wrap my head around what kind of damage she did to our friendship, to my family’s trust in her, to my relationship with you.” The last bit was almost inaudible. “I’m so fucking sorry, Becs. I know you kept telling me not to trust her, but I never thought anyone would lie about a pregnancy, especially her. I thought she was telling the truth.”

There was another pause and the sounds of rustling on the other side of the door. “Clea took one of your ultrasound pictures to Houston to give to me. She thought I’d need proof that you were really pregnant. I guess she was supposed to deliver the picture to me anyway, but once they found out about Jordan’s medical shit, she made sure to point out that your due date was on the top. That’s our baby, Becs. I don’t want to do this separately.”

I sat there, with my back to the door, and cried for the loss of my relationship with him again. Some of the tears were for the shit his supposed best friend had put him through. That was the worst thing I think anyone could have done, aside from trying to kill him, and honestly, an attempt on his life would have probably been more forgivable than the lies she told. I cried for my baby, too because they were an unwitting pawn in her game. My child would never get to grow up in a two-parent household and be embarrassed to watch their mom and dad be so in love with one another. That was all because Jordan had taken the option away with her deplorable lies.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, on the floor with my back to the front door. Eventually, I realized that Austin stopped talking and probably walked away at some point. That was for the best because there was a lot to process in what he’d just confessed to me through my front door.

~*~

The following day was miserable. Clea had gone with Houston to meet his family for the first time, and it sent me into a tailspin. I was happy for my best friend, since she’d obviously snagged herself the best brother of the bunch. Still, there had been a few days in February where I’d thought about how cool it would be for Clea and me to be introduced to the Mercer family at the same time, so it might take the pressure off both of us. Their large, happy family seemed intimidating to both of us who had grown up in less-than-ideal circumstances.

The sky started to grow dark when I finally peeled myself off the couch and away from my pity party for one. I managed to make some soup, and even nibble a few crackers, before I made my way back to the couch. Just as I was about to sit, there was a knock on my door. Clea was with the Mercer family last I checked, and she had sent a message that Austin was there, too. So, I wondered who in the hell could be knocking today. Truthfully, surprise visits were never a good thing.

“It’s me, Becs. Open up!” Clea called out.

I rushed to the door and threw it open, wondering if something had gone wrong with the family introductions. Instead of seeing my friend in tears, she stood there with an older woman who had a hesitant smile plastered on her lips.

“Um, hi,” I offered by way of greeting as I stepped back and out of the way so they could come in.

“Becs, this is Mrs. Mercer, Houston and Austin’s mother.”

“Oh.” What else could I say? The grandmother of my baby showed up at my door unannounced with my best friend. The little freakout going on inside my body felt a lot bigger than it was.

“I understand this is a surprise visit. If you are at all uncomfortable with me being here, I can come back another time, or you can come to my home whenever you wish.” The woman’s hand whipped up to her chest and held there as if her heart were troubling her. “I’m sorry. I’m probably messing this up right from the start. What I mean to say is that whatever will make you comfortable, I don’t want to pressure you.”

“You’re here now,” I explained as I waved my hand forward, inviting her inside. “Please, come in. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t been feeling very well.”

Clea moved into the apartment, but Mrs. Mercer stopped in front of me and wrapped me up in the warmest hug I’d ever felt. I suddenly knew where Houston got it from, considering the way he’d held me the day I found out I was pregnant.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetheart. When I first found out I was pregnant with Victoria, she’s my oldest, I let myself go completely. All those crazy worries ran through my head, and things were so new with my husband that I was constantly waiting for him to hit the road. It was a mess of a time and then there was the exhaustion and well, I’m sure you know all about that. My point, is that I don’t think my house was ever clean for the next decade.” She chuckled and Clea added her own laughter to the mix as I smiled at the woman. It was nice of her to try to make me feel better about my cluttered mess of an apartment.

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked Clea to bring me by. Things with Austin are contentious, I understand. I’m his mother, and disappointed as can be in both my son and Jordan for the absolute hell they have each put you through. My concern isn’t for them right now. It’s for you and what our family can do to make things right.”

Considering she’d included Jordan and Austin’s names together; I wondered if he left my front door yesterday and went crawling right back into the lying tramp’s arms? Mrs. Mercer wasn’t privy to my wandering mind, but she tipped her head to the side, as if in quiet contemplation anyway.

“Maybe ‘making things right’ is the wrong choice of words. What can I do to make things easier for you?”

“I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Mercer. I don’t think there’s anything to be done right now, though.”

She nodded her head sagely as I walked to my couch and peeled my throw blanket off and folded it before moving it into a basket beside my couch to get it out of the way. There was nothing to be done about the half-eaten bowl of soup or the sleeve of crackers sitting on my coffee table with an empty bottle of water, a half-full glass of apple juice, and my cell phone. The wadded up, snotty tissues told a story all their own, as did the overflowing bathroom trashcan full of more that sat by the end of my coffee table.

“I’m sure I could get Dallas to record me taking a switch to Austin’s backside,” the woman assured me before offering up a wink. It at least drew a smile from me.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here because I never knew Austin was dating anyone…” her thought seemed to drop away, but I figured she meant outside of Jordan.

“What would you like to know?” I asked her. My hands shook as I sat down on the chair and allowed Clea and Mrs. Mercer to take the couch together. There was no point in cleaning up my mess, since they’d both already seen it.

“Well, how about we start with the basics.”

That was open to interpretation, so I started with the most basic of basics. My name. “My name is Rebecca Irene Robinson, though I prefer for people to call me Becs.”

“Okay, Becs and what do you do for a living?”

“I teach art classes over at Whitmore Elementary. I was also teaching history to some of the fifth graders, but starting next year, I won’t be doing that anymore.”

“What? Why not?” Clea asked, worried that I’d been demoted.

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