Lost in Creation

I really don't know why I ever let her talk me into these things.

"I can't believe you, Jimmy. It's been four years and you still haven't proposed. What are you waiting for?" She had a point. We'd been dating since I was twenty-two, living together for two, and now in our final year of college. The whole time we were together, I was planning to propose. When we were in high school, my friends used to tease me about how much I loved her. They said that I was the only one who could see that she was the girl I would marry. But then one day, something happened and it all changed.

I had been studying at the library when she came up to me and told me some strange news. She was pregnant. I didn't know what to say or how to respond. It wasn't like we weren't careful every time we had sex. That was probably why it took so long for us to have one-night stands with other people in the first place. After some thought, I told her that she should get an abortion because I didn't want to be a dad at such a young age. She got up from her seat and walked out of the library without saying anything else to me. It wasn't until later that day that she messaged me and told me that she wouldn't be going through with it because she believed that if the child was meant to be born, it would happen no matter what happened to her body. She doesn't know this, but before I joined the debate team in high school, I used to be a hardcore Christian who went to church every Sunday with his parents and volunteered at an orphanage on Saturdays while they were away on business trips. That part of my life isn't something I'm proud of because of its association with my parents, who mistreated me when they were home by constantly asking when I would start bringing in money like my brother did by working hard at sports and getting scholarships at colleges near where their business associates lived so they could visit their friends whenever they wanted – instead of having them fly back home every weekend like they did with me whenever he visited them for birthdays because he was "the golden child." It also didn't help that after a few years of not going to church anymore, my mom left my father for a wealthy man she met on a cruise, and he moved far away from our hometown where he now lives alone in a small apartment with his cats because he couldn't afford more than one room by himself when times got tough financially after losing everything that made him look successful in front of his old colleagues – who now have families of their own except those who are dead now due to suicide, which is something else he blames my mom for because he says that if she hadn't left him, then he wouldn't have gone crazy enough to take his own life as well as hers, meaning only one person is living today while everyone else is dead including my father and brother.

I spent many days reflecting on the situation, trying to understand what had happened and whether anything could have been done differently. Perhaps some things were meant to end up this way, with heartache and despair, but I could never quite shake the feeling that there might have been another option. Maybe, deep down, there was a glimmer of hope for redemption and healing, a chance to forgive each other and ourselves for the mistakes we've made.

That morning was about seven years ago, but ever since then, I haven't been able to shake off this feeling whenever someone brings up marriage or having children, especially during dinner conversations at family gatherings. It reminds me of when my girlfriend told me she was pregnant, despite knowing full well what kind of person I am and what kind of person my family is, due mainly to her mother hoping we would somehow get married, despite knowing that neither one of us wanted children, let alone marriage itself. Instead, what happened next was that she got an abortion as I suggested and broke up with me over a text message, which meant less face-to-face confrontation afterward.

"Jimmy? Hey? Are you alright?" Someone tapped on my shoulder, snapping me back into reality. In that moment, I found myself sitting alone underneath a large oak tree overlooking the riverbank close by, where Sarah had told me about her abortion all those years ago.

As I returned to my thoughts, I recalled some recent events – in particular an incident involving an explosion at our workplace that left many injured, including Sarah and me. As emergency responders arrived on the scene, they tended to the wounded, warning me not to touch Sarah just in case I made her wounds worse. I felt helpless and worried for her, and the pain of this new situation brought back memories of our past together. It was a harrowing experience but reminded me of the importance of being able to forgive and move forward in life, learning from our mistakes and cherishing the bonds we have