Spring Break Confessions

We communicated very well during the week we were together. There were the kisses and the "sweet nothings." the holding, the touching... fondling. As our last day drew closer we felt a need to get even closer, and by the last day we knew what had to happen. We had convinced ourselves that sex was the only way to keep what we had going. I'll admit that it was great. It was my first time and I'm pretty sure it was his. We hadn't talked about previous relationships, and he didn't seem the type to just give himself to anyone. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. All that remained of him were a rose and a note. The note hurt me even more than waking up alone.

It read: "I apologize for everything that happened this week and whatever I may have led you to believe. I feel really bad about what happened last night. You thought something really special was happening, something that was an expression of our love for one another. And I was only following through on a bet my friends and I made earlier in the week. I'm sorry for leading you on. Please don't be hurt by me. You're a great girl and I know you'll find someone better. I hope they make you feel as special as you are."

Don't be hurt? Don't be hurt? Well, how could I not have been hurt? He made me believe he loved me. He made me think he wanted more out of me than just momentary pleasure. He stole something that was supposed to be given to that special person that I loved with all my heart and wanted to spend the rest of my life with. It was supposed to be love. It was supposed to be mutual. He took advantage of me because his friends were pressuring him, because he was afraid of what they would say if he didn't go through with the bet. Some bet. It ruined my life.

The condom he wore didn't do its job. I was pregnant and had to go through a very painful pregnancy. When my parents found out they kicked me out. I had to sleep with a different friend every night for close to nine months. Then there was the birth. The baby didn't come out head first, so for two days I suffered while the doctors tried to get it out. Afterwards he had to stay at the hospital for six weeks. The hospital bill was atrocious. I had gotten a job shortly after I found out I was pregnant, but there was nowhere near enough money to pay for the hospital bills. Finding a place to live was hard after that. I couldn't keep bouncing from one friend's house to another. I needed a stable place to live. The baby needed more stability. I could have put it up for adoption, but I wanted to keep it. I didn't want it to live its life not knowing who its real mother was.

One of my friends had a small basement under her house that she re-did so that my baby and I could live there. It was still hard though; the accommodations weren't everything we needed. Things would get better, I hoped. I tried calling Robert once; just to see if maybe he would take some responsibility for what had happened. The jerk didn't even give me the right phone number. When I called I got some mom and pop pizza parlor in east Manhattan.

My baby died last September. It could have been prevented if I had only had the money for the treatment. I had lived for my baby the short time he was with me, and it was so painful knowing that he was going to die and that there was nothing I could do. I know that it could have all been prevented if I had been less naive. For one week, I had everything; a man I thought loved me and would support me, friends that were always there for me, and a secure family. After that, my baby became my world. Now there is nothing. Life carries no meaning for me anymore. Often late at night, I have wondered about Robert. If I could just see him for a brief moment there are so many questions I'd ask him.

Did you ever even care for me at all?
Did you love me?
How many times had you done this before?
Did you know I would carry your child?
And that your son would die?
Did you ever think what happened to me?
Or how my life was ruined?
I bet you didn't. You were only thinking about yourself.

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