Scott, Part 4.

I guess it is time I finally finished this story. It has been keeping me from writing anything else, knowing I have to finish this one first.

Scott moved out at the end of January. I admit I was quite sad at first. I realize I was the one that broke up with him, I asked him to leave, but it still hurt all the same. He had been my life for nearly three years, and at 20 years old, that was a long time.

I soon realized that having Scott gone was a bit of a relief. I was no longer worrying about him, wondering where he was and what he was doing. I was able to go out with my friends without looking at the clock, thinking I should get home to him before it is too late. I was still talking to him every few days, he seemed happy in his new place, and although he would not admit it, I was sure he was seeing someone new.

Somewhere in mid February, I started to think there was something wrong. I was really tired, I was not feeling very good, and I was getting awful cramps. It occurred to me that I had not had a period since the middle of January, so just in case I bought a home pregnancy test. I nearly died when I saw that it was positive.

My world stopped. Here I was, trying to start a new life, enjoying being on my own for the very first time, happy to be out of a very unhealthy relationship. And suddenly, that seemed like it was all going to be taken away. I was 20 years old, single, in school, and pregnant.

It took me a few days to tell Scott. I had always had a hard time telling him things I was afraid would upset him, and I knew this would upset him more that anything.

I called him and asked him to come out for dinner with me. I kept trying all night to tell him, but could not bring myself to do it. I tried driving around, hoping that if I didn't have to look at him it would be easier, but I was afraid I would start crying. So finally, after we had been out for a few hours, I pulled into the parking at his complex and parked the car.

"I have to tell you something" I said to him, looking straight ahead, out my window.

You could hear the hesitation in his voice when he asked me what it was.

"I'm pregnant"

"Oh" he said. "Oh shit"

And with that, he opened his door, and got out of the car, closed the door and walked away.

I sat there for a moment. Stunned. I don't really know what I expected from him, but it sure wasn't that.

I tried to call Scott for a few days after that, but he would not come to the phone. Finally, about a week later, I got a call from one of roommates, telling me I needed to go over there.

I found Scott, sitting cross legged on the floor of his room, staring off into space. He was not talking, nor would he look at anyone. I asked the guys what was wrong with him, none really knew, but they did admit he had been experimenting with different drugs over the past few weeks, and he had been sitting there for almost a day.

I sat down right in front of him, and tried talking to him. He adverted his gaze away from me, and refused to answer me. I reached out and grabbed his hands, but he pulled them away, instead hiding his face in them, his long hair covering both his hands and face.

I begged him to talk to me; tears were streaming down my face. I got angry, telling him he needed to deal with life, he had to talk to me, help me figure out what we were going to do.

He finally looked up, and looked right into my eyes. His face was wet, he had been crying too. He seemed like he was trying to talk, he would open his mouth, but nothing would come out. I watched as he clenched his fists, and slammed them into his lap. I tried to grab his hands again, but he pulled them away like I had burned him, he shot me one last look, and then was staring into space again.

Finally I left. I could not take it anymore. I told his roommates to call me if he got worse, and to make him call me if he ever snapped out of it.

I cried for days. I was so torn. I ached for Scott; I mourned the end of our relationship. I was scared for my future; somehow I knew I would be raising this baby alone.

Finally Scott called me and asked to talk.

He apologized for the way he had acted, and claimed he could barely remember those few days. He told me he would support me in whatever I chose to do.

I got him to admit he had a girlfriend, and he also admitted he had been using some really hard drugs.

He promised he was going to stop, just stick to smoking pot and hash. He said his girlfriend was really nice, and knew I would like her.

It was hardly a month later, when Scott announced to me he was going to move to BC.

Just for a short time he said. He and his girlfriend just wanted to get away for awhile; they would come back in October when the baby was due. What could I do, I had no hold on him.

Right after he left, I got a call from the manager at the bank where I worked. The account I had held jointly with Scott, and had neglected to take his name off of, was overdrawn by $600.00. Scott had written a cheque on the account to finance his trip, and I was now responsible for the loss.

This was in late March.

Sometime in the later part of summer, Scott called to tell me they were back in Ontario. He and his girlfriend had hitchhiked home, and were planning on staying, wanting to be here for me when the baby was born.

I picked up Scott and took him out for a drive so we could talk.

I was trying to get out of him how much of a role he wanted to play in the baby's life. I wanted to know if he would be there for more than just an occasional visit.

He promised me he would. He wanted to live close by me, so he could spend as much time as he could with us.

But then I asked him about the drugs. I told him in no uncertain terms would I want any drug use around the baby. I asked him what he would do if he was taking care of it and some of his friends came by and wanted to get high.

He said it should not make a difference. At least when the kid was little right?

Well he was wrong. I told him that until he could prove to me that he would stay sober, and not let his friends near my baby, he would never see it.

The argument went back and forth for some time, but finally came to a head when he made a comment that infuriated me.

"This is why I am with Trish. (the new girlfriend) She does not judge me. She really loves me. She loves me for who I am...."

I slammed on my breaks, looked him right in the eye and said, "You fucker. How dare you accuse me of not loving you? I gave you everything I was. I gave up everything I had. I took care of you for three years. I loved you with all my heart You took it all, with hardly giving anything in return. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR!"

And I left him there, out in the boonies, about 15km from town. I still to this day don't know how he got back, and I really didn't care.

I heard a few days later that he and Trish left again for BC. I got a letter from him about a month later, apologizing for what he said, telling me he was sorry he could not be there for me. He said he would come back again in October, be there for the birth of the baby. I never responded.

Fall came and Scott never arrived. I did not expect him to. I had two wonderful girlfriends that were there for me through the pregnancy, coming to doctor’s appointments, going to birthing classes, giving me a shoulder to cry on when I felt overwhelmed.

On October 26th, with my Mom, my brother and my best friend by my side I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy, sweet 8 1/2 lb baby boy. I named him Christopher for my friends Christine and Charissa. I gave him my maiden name for a surname, and left the spot on the birth certificate that named the father blank.

Christopher would be my son, and no one else's.

In November, when Christopher was about 3 weeks old, I got another letter form Scott. He had heard about the baby through his sister, whom I had called. He was so sorry that he could not make it when he was born; he gave some wild excuse that I don't even remember.

I was done, finished. I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. So I wrote him back.

"My son and I are just fine without you. Please do not contact me anymore. I want nothing to do with you."

Scott never tried to contact me again, and I have not once in the last 14 years ever regretted that decision. Our lives have been better for it.