When I finally stopped running I settled down in a cheap motel for the night and soon was looking for a job. I made the appointment, several times. Something always came up that kept me from keeping it. By the time I had finally made up my mind and screwed up the courage to go, it was too late I was going to be a mother.
A boy, 7 pounds 6 ounces. I named him Alex, Alex James, his fathers and my fathers middle names. I don't know why, but it seemed to be the right thing to do somehow. A healthy baby boy, with his fathers eyes and willing smile. The choices, the debates, I know not what to do. Should I keep him, only to be reminded daily of how foolish I was in running away, or give him up to be raised by another, someone who can give him all the things I can not. The endless debate raging in my mind, with no one else to help. No one else to turn to, to talk to.
A year. That's how long it took after his son, our son, was born. A year to get up the courage to go, to see him again. I went back one weekend to see him. I left Alex with a friend and just went. I guess I hopped to see him, tell him about his son and rekindle our old romance.
I went past the old house we once shared, was he still there, had he moved on, I wondered over and over. The house looked the same as i remembered it, a little less kept but the same and, yes, there he was, just leaving the front door as my taxi turned around at the corner to take me back. I had the driver stop up the street so that Greg wouldn't see me. I quickly paid and got out with the intention of going to him. But I couldn't, something inside stopped me, and I watched him walk away. Was he off to the club for drinks with friends? Work perhaps, but on a weekend? I couldn't guess, I didn't know. I went slowly up to the door, would my key still fit, would it work? Yes, it did! I thought about going in, being there when he came home, but then I caught myself. No, it's been almost two years. Had he moved on in his life, gotten over me and found a new love. I had no way of knowing. I just turned and slowly walked away.
I spent the rest of that weekend wandering the city, visiting our old haunts in hopes of seeing him again and having the courage to face him once more. I walked the park where he how strolls silently in solitary contemplation, the club where we used to hang out and dance the night away, and the train station going down town. I saw him again and again, but I could not approach, it didn't feel right some how. When the weekend was over I went back to my new life, swearing that one day, one day soon, I would make contact. I would call him to let him know I am alright. But not today. Every weekend for the rest of that month and into the next I spent in the city, trying to bring myself to see him, or just to call.
Eventually, on one of my visits to the city, I found a job and was able to move back to be near him again. But still, I could not find the courage to call. I continued to watch from afar almost every day. Our paths occasionally crossed by chance, in the supermarket, the train station, a club. But we never did speak, or happen into one another closer than across a room. How could we, I always ran away. Some times I had Alex with me, in the park or shopping, but still could not bring myself to interrupt Greg's life.