Something I Never Told You, by Brittany Chadwick
Dear Lost-Forever,
I still think about you. When certain songs come on the radio, or I see a skateboarder in the street, or even when I see guys who shares your slight, but overwhelmingly cute overbite, I think of you.
I’ll always think about you.
Being my first boyfriend, my first love, my first lover – well, I should remember you, right? Oh, but it hurts.
Do you remember staying at my house those weekends, hiding from my grandfather? Do you remember the day we lost our virginity, and how afraid you were that you might hurt me? We used to take showers together, and you hated washing your hair but you’d let me wash it for you. Do you remember? I do.
But I also remember the countless lies about your life, and the sometimes crazed possession over where I was and what I was doing without you. I never cheated on you, and I never even thought about it. Why would I? Fat girl that I was, you were my Adonis, my Dark Knight, and more importantly, the first person I could allow to really see Me. Hanging out with my friends, or going out with my family, or not seeing you every second of the weekend wouldn’t destroy that, but you always thought it might.
We talked on the phone almost two years after we broke up, when I was out in Phoenix, and that’s when I found out that you had a girlfriend who was pregnant. Pregnant. God, how that hurt to hear, but I played it off for you, telling you I was happy. I know how much you wanted to be a father, and I know you wanted to do that with me – hell, we talked about it. Picked out names, even.
I told you I needed to tell you something, but had to do it in person. Do you remember that? That was before your girlfriend called my phone and threatened me to stop talking to you. It made me laugh, of course, that any little girl would try to tell me what to do. I had no interest in getting back together. I had my own problems. But hearing her voice, and talking about it with the few people who know my deep dark secret, I changed my mind about telling you.
You bugged me about it, I remember, and I said that it wasn’t really important, that I just wanted to talk about stuff in person because, hey, we were friends. We were always friends. I cherished that. You would tease and play video games with me, but you’d also hold me if I cried, and rub my ugly feet when they hurt.
Because you are my friend, I didn’t want to hurt you with my secret, and I came to the conclusion that’s exactly what it would do. We never did talk again after Phoenix – maybe your baby’s momma finally got you to give in. I don’t mind, really. Talking more, or getting together, would have made me break my promise not to tell you…
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Okay. I can do this. I’ve kept it inside and let it fester for almost four years now, and that’s not a long time, but it feels like it. After we broke up, and you came over to get your stuff and give me mine, I had some appointments to keep before my Medicaid ran out. One was a gynecologist. They checked me out, I was fine, and they did some tests.
My mom asked me a question in the waiting room, and I told her I wasn’t sure. I had been feeling so bad. Throwing up green bile and dry heaves. I just wasn’t sure.
The tests were sure.
I was pregnant.
By you.
I cried. I was terrified. I was sixteen, and suddenly I was stuck in the very situation I’d made fun of before. How could those girls be so stupid, I thought. Well, now I was the stupid one.
We made an appointment. I had to beg my father, someone I wasn’t very close to, for money to get the procedure. He still holds it against me. Only three people in the world who are in my life know of what really happened. We told everyone I went to the dentist. Yeah, sure. Dentist.
I know you must be angry, and sad, and probably a lot of other things right now. Let me tell you, nothing you can feel or say can make me regret what I did more then I already do. The procedure to terminate was the worst thing I have ever experienced. It’s what I think hell must feel like.
I’ve never cried as hard as I did when they were… taking the baby from me. I felt it. They kept telling me to calm down. I told them to go to hell.
I still remember how old it was – seven weeks and four days. I know because they said it was dangerous past a certain point to terminate (I hate that term, like it were termites or something).
I’m not asking you to forgive me because I don’t forgive myself. It was cowardly, but I just didn’t have any other option. No, that’s not right – I didn’t have any easier option.
There are a lot of things that weren’t right about our relationship, but all the lying and drama doesn’t compare to how it ended, that final snip that cut us apart, perhaps forever.
I wonder, sometimes, what it would have been like if I had kept it. Would it have looked more like you, or like me? Girl or a boy? What would have happened between us if I had told you?
This ‘what if’ game is heartbreaking every time. I am so sorry. Not just because you’re hurt, though I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to keep it. Even if we never came together and became parents like we could’ve, I should have been stronger.
My cousin is pregnant now. She’s handling it great, even though her circumstances are even worse then mine were. She’s being an adult. Granted, she’s eighteen now, but…that’s not the point. Seeing her just brings it back, every time. I don’t regret a lot of my life, but this is one thing I can never make right. I couldn’t tell you, didn’t think I ever would. But it’s dragging my soul down.
If it does nothing else, at least it gives us closure, something we didn’t really have. I still think about you. Yes, I still love you. You were my only boyfriend who ever really treated me like I was something special. You defended me, and you loved me. I know that. What started as something that might have been beautiful ended tragically. Is that dramatic? I don’t think so.
Always and Never Yours,
Britt
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Brittany Chadwick is new to publishing, but has always been a storyteller since her first weapons were a fistful of crayons and a head full of dreams.
10 Responses to “Something I Never Told You, by Brittany Chadwick”
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Brittany,
What a brave letter to share, especially with your name on it. Your choice, no matter how painful it was for you, was right for you at the time. I hope someday you can forgive yourself. You weren’t stupid. You were a child.
Now that you are an adult, I wish you all the best, including a baby that helps you forget the pain and sadness.
Best wishes for a long and happy and forgiven life!
You will find someone else who will treat you special. When you do I think it might change the way you look back on that situation.
Wonderful writing, I didn’t breath towards the end.
Your pain is so evident in your letter – as is your bravery for sharing. You are a beautiful person and while this pain will never go away, it will make you stronger. I so admire your courage sweetie.
Brittany, what a beautiful, pain-filled letter. It took a lot of courage to write it and more important, to live through it. Thanks for sharing this with us.
Thanks so much for sharing your letter – I hope time allows you to forgive and heal yourself…
Few of us have ever had to be as brave as you were, Brit. I hope the person you are with now treats you with the trust and respect you deserve. You lived through a bad time, but you made it to the other side. Perhaps the soul of that baby will be in the body of your firstborn. The time just wasn’t right back then, but it will be, someday.
Britt, kudos for sharing this.
You cannot change the past, but you can learn from it.
When I was 19 I ended up pregnant in a very backwards town. I considered doing what you did. I didn’t.
I raised her the best I could with what I had, and she hates my very existence now because what I gave wasn’t good enough.
Your end was painful, but at least it was final. Mine will never fade.
Think of this–yes you have regrets, but your may have had regrets the other way as well.
Blessings, Annie
Britt,
Baring your soul, letting this dark secret out into the light, letting Light and Love into your heart… these are all steps toward self-forgiveness, toward healing. You did the best you could with what you had at the time – you made a decision and you have taken responsibility for your decision. You’ve spent years lashing yourself in that dark secret place you held in your heart… worrying about how others in your life would see you if they knew… Britt, we see you as human… passionate, fallible, frightened, responsible, brave, kind, loving, worthy, deserving of compassion and understanding from us and from yourself.
We all, every one of us, have regrets of one sort or another… but you are making a right decision now – a decision which will lead to your own self-forgiveness and healing.
Blessings, Love, and Light,
Lynn
Britt,
Reading through your letter made me want to do nothing more than reach through this computer and hug you so tightly.
You are a GOOD person, a passionate, witty, wonderful person. Never ever forget that.
Lins
Beautiful writing, Britt. It was the right decision for you and for the child, I hope you see that some day.
And I hope you get your dream someday.
Sharmistha.