A beautiful woman in love, the kind of love that lasts eternity. A handsome man in love, that opening of the soul where she enters and stays forever.

I cry for him, my arms open, reaching for him with tears running down my face. He turns his back on me, the one he loves. Not because he is in control of his life but because he’s out of control. My arms fall to my sides as my head lowers. I know I’ve lost him. My crying will never stop nor my love for him, but I can’t go on like this. He is leaving me for the one that’s always there. The one that calls to him, a different love that never says no.

This night, alone, I spend building walls of protection. Protection for me and our baby growing inside me. Protection from his pain and anger. I place my hands on my swollen belly as I promise to provide the love and safety our child deserves. I have lost my love but he will forever be with me through our baby and the love we had shared.

Time goes on:

On a good day, I lay on my couch with the windows open. The curtains dance with the breeze entertaining my mind.

I reach for a slice of apple, dip it into a jar of peanut butter, and take a bite. I grab my book sitting on the table and place one hand on my stomach. I read out loud.

On bad days, I cry, sometimes all day, Knowing part of the man I’ve lost is growing inside me.

“Oh God… Why didn’t he chose us?”

Four years later:

I’m single with a three and a half year old little girl, Angela, intelligent and beautiful.

I’ve tried dating but the loneliness has become so comfortable that I’m afraid of losing it. Maybe I feel that the one I’ve lost is the one I was meant to share my life with, and maybe I’d rather be alone and dream than be with someone else and pretend.

Angela loves her father so much. She spends every other weekend and holidays with him. She is always so excited to see and spend time with her daddy.

I’m sitting at work, finishing up an assignment, while fantasizing about my free weekend. With a smile on my face, I answer the phone.

He can’t see Angela for a while, he’ll stop by day care to talk to her. He’s sorry for any inconvenience. No explanation!

I’m so angry I want to cry, but can’t at work. I turn to my computer and start to type:

We are apart but we made a beautiful little girl together. I have tried to get along with you, not only for Angela, but because the love we once shared. I still care for you. I am so upset about this, Angela is going to be crushed. She loves you so much. I have gone through this so many times with you. It is getting old! Sometimes I’m afraid to leave her with you, I find myself questioning your love and responsibility for our child. I’m so confused… this is driving Angels and me crazy! Why are you doing this? Sometimes I just want to pack up and move away. Would that be better for her to have no father than to have one whenever it’s convenient for him… who am I kidding, of course not. He doesn’t do this all the time, a few times maybe. I know he loves her. I can see it in his eyes. I mean, well, at least he called, that’s an improvement. Every other time he just never picked her up. Maybe I was just looking forward to some alone time. Oh well, Angela and I can find something fun to do. Maybe we’ll go stay in a hotel and go swimming. Well it’s time for me to go pick her up. That was a great vent session. I feel better! Even looking forward to a weekend get-a-way with Angela. See you Monday! Bye.

A few weeks later:

I’m in my front yard, with Angela, trying to catch up on a little gardening. I hear a familiar sounding car but don’t look up. Suddenly I hear, “Daddy! Daddy!” I turn to see Angela running toward her father. I stand and walk to join them, he watches. My heart beats faster with each step I take. I hear, “Daddy are you still sick?”

“Yes Honey, I am.”

“My God, you’re sick? What’s the matter?” I ask.

With a pause, he says, “I’m an alcoholic.”

My face becomes hot as my eyes fill with tears. I can’t say a word I just stand there staring at him. In that moment of stillness, my walls of armor crumble. I never heard it, but I always knew it.

With tears running down my cheeks, I ask, “You’re what?”

“I’m an alcoholic.”