I stare at my phone until the screen goes black, then set it down on my desk. I uncross my ankles, cross them, and uncross them again. I tuck my feet up under me and start spinning in my chair. I stare at the ceiling, biting my lip, the taste of blood making me stop for all of two seconds before my teeth need something to do again. I scrunch up my nose to push up my glasses. I feel my feet starting to go numb, so I lift myself off them and shift my legs before sitting on them again. The consequential tingling sensation invades my bare feet. Restlessness is my enemy. I take a sip of my stale water, wishing I could spit it out, but knowing that I’ll probably finish off the bottle before the day is over. I pick up my phone, hoping for some kind of distraction. The black screen gives way to a picture of a dandelion, your favorite flower you always told me. But there’s no new notifications. Has it really only been two minutes since I received the call?
Exhausted, I decide to get up and walk around. I limp for a few steps before my foot regains consciousness. The sound of my skirt brushing against the kitchen floor calms my nerves a little. My mom is always urging me to shorten my skirts, but if I can’t feel the material hiding my toes, nothing feels right. I shuffle my way to the fridge, open it, and scan the contents once, twice, three times. Not finding anything interesting, I shut the door and put one hand on my tummy, hoping to calm the inevitable growling. I long for the days when I could eat breakfast without losing it within a few hours. I walk around the house once before stopping in the kitchen again. I open the fridge once more and finally discover a bowl of frozen grapes. I stroll back to my room, my new-found treasure cradled in my arms.
I set down the bowl next to my bed and bring my radio to life, already knowing that it’s set where it needs to be. In the few seconds it takes me to throw myself onto the bed, the initial strains of ‘Think Of Me’ start streaming through the tiny speakers and for the first time since answering that phone call, I take a deep breath, and try to stop over-analyzing. The feeling of peace is quickly shattered when I turn to grab my bowl of grapes and feel a sharp pain in my side. It takes a few seconds to get my breath back and remember that I need to be more careful. My fingers finally come into contact with the container and I seize the opportunity to quickly curl my fingers around the top of it and pull it onto the bed.
Two life changing pieces of news within a week of each other. This would be the third within a few months. My head is still spinning and I am in complete disbelief. Just when everything was starting to sink in, when I was finally beginning to come to terms with my altered life plan, everything was thrown completely out of whack again.
I pull out my phone again. Ten minutes. I need to stop checking the time, I need to distract myself. After a few attempts, I am able to remember the correct pattern and unlock the screen. I should probably change that, make it easier to remember. I swipe the screen back and forth a few times before tapping on my messages. I have a new message from my mom, asking if I’m OK. One from my best friend wondering if I want to borrow a dress. As if I’d be able to fit into one of her dresses. But she wouldn't know that. I haven't seen her since the day she dropped me off at the clinic.
I really need a new phone, I’m realizing for the hundredth time. These messages are a few hours old and it didn't notify me. Quick as a wink I decide to ignore my mom for now, I’ll call her later, I tell myself, even knowing that I’m probably lying to myself, and reply to the second message, I don’t think so. I’m going shopping tomorrow. I’ll find something. Thanks for the offer though!:)
I get up, taking my now empty bowl with me. I guess I need to start preparing for a funeral. I go through the motions of everyday life. Craving the return to some kind of normalcy, and yet knowing that I was going to have to deal with a new normal. It doesn't take long for the fatigue to catch up to me and I know that what I've gotten done is all that’s getting done for today. I hate being worn out so easily, hate feeling like I can’t do anything anymore without needing to take a nap every few minutes. The reality of my situation hasn't really hit me yet, still in shock, I guess. Or maybe denial? I don’t know anymore. I've gone through these phases too often recently to be able to tell the difference anymore.
Not until later, much later, when I’m getting ready for bed do I finally allow myself to start feeling. I feel one tear roll down my cheek. One solitary, lonely tear.
It breaks my heart to know that you didn't want to be a part of my life anymore.  That you wanted out so badly that you decided, of all things, to just end everything. Suicide is never the answer. That’s what you told me. A million times over, you told me. Whenever you heard a story of someone who took their own life, you would always do your little thing. You’d shake your head, just barely, scoff, look at me, and say, “Another one?” But I guess, after all these years, even you must have started to see some kind of appeal in it.
But you didn't give me a chance to say goodbye. And that’s what I hate the most about this whole mess. You didn't let me tell you that I loved you, one last time. You never let on that you were hurting. You never told me what you were going through. I never would have guessed, or maybe I was just too wrapped up in trying to figure out how I was going to tell you. But I never found a way. I never got that chance. And that’s why I’m writing this. It was the only way I could think of to tell you. So. Here goes.
You’re going to be a dad. I found out today that I’m having twins.
I finish writing, and sign the note, which strikes me as being odd, but I don’t care. I realize that my one tear has stained the corner of the page, but I don’t let that deter me as I fold up the letter and punch a hole in the corner. I find the red balloon that I bought earlier when I stopped by the grocery store, string the ribbon through the hole, and tie it in a knot. Stepping out into the backyard, I breathe in deeply, and before I can change my mind, I let go of the balloon. I had to tell you.
I finally feel the shock wearing off, and I let myself cry. I sit down on the grass, and just let all my anger and frustration out. And through the tears, I see a dandelion. It’s growing a few feet away from where I’m sitting and I hate it. I hate that stupid weed and all its empty promises.