Chapter Two
My whole life, I've been a simple girl. I was always just plain Allie. As a little girl, I just wanted a whirlwind romance, with the white picket fence, and gorgeous little kids. The cookie cutter American Dream.
When I met you, I thought you were the one. The one to make my simple, plain dream come true. How wrong I was. Before I was just Allie, now I'm Alyson Collette Jacobson Black, wife of the ex-rockstar Nate Black aka you. You made everything complicated. I don't like complicated. Why would you do that to me? I love you and after all the simplicity and peace you've taken from me, you can't just give me this last thing I want.
All I want is a little Alyson, or a little Nate. I ask again and again and each time you say, "I'm just not ready to be a father". I know that's not true because I'm a woman. It's because of her, right? I know it's because of her.
Don't pretend you still love me. Don't pretend you don't love her anymore. I know you've never stopped loving her. She must be one hell of a girl, Nate, a girl special enough to have a whole box dedicated in OUR closet to her. I've never looked in there because I love you and respect your privacy, but these days, I'm not so sure. This girl must have broken you if you can't just give your wife the one thing she wants.
So what does this make me? Tacky glue? Your fixer upper? Will I ever be as good as she was? I can promise you that I'll never be her, and I know you know that I can never be her. So why are you being so mean? After all the pain you've put me through, at least just give me a baby! Why can't I just let you go and find another man? Oh wait, I know. It's because I love you. I love you and your rockstar DNA. You made it all complicated.
I've never wanted anything more in my life. So I ask again, this time at breakfast, in the sweet voice I've got down cold. You don't even glance up at me when I ask anymore. You just say that retched speech I've got memorized by now. "I'm just not ready to be a father." You'd be ready if it were her baby. I leave you alone, because you're stubborn as crap. But I know one day, I'll break you down. I leave to pick up the mail. I bring you a Christmas card, from an unfamiliar address. When I hand it to you, your eyes pop, and you rip open the envelope with such strength, it shocks both of us.
That's when it hits me. Oh my god. It's from her right? I peek over your shoulders to get a glimpse of the picture. She's beautiful. She looks just like me. Or should I say I look just like her? Her name is Caitlyn, huh. It's nice to put a name to the girl I've been silently hating for months. But the dream stealer is not to blame. It's you. You put me through the wringer. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to be played with.
You know who else doesn't deserve this? Caitlyn. It's your fault, I know it. It doesn't seem like she'll be knocking at our front door any time soon. So how come I can't help but put the blame on her? Am I getting in the way of destiny? Am I the other woman? Or is she?
You start to shake and say, "Oh my god", over and over again. You dash up the stairs. To put it in your memory box, I bet. I mean, how excited can you get over a "To:Nate, Merry Christmas. From Caitlyn." One day, I'll open that box and unleash all your secrets. Maybe then, you'll take me seriously. Take us seriously. Take the nonexistent child we share seriously.
I'll open it tomorrow, I swear. I'll find out what she really means to you, and what I never meant to you. Yeah Yeah. I've been telling myself that every day for a year now. I'll do it tomorrow.
Why the hell did you make everything so complicated? That's what you do best. Nate Black, you make everything complicated. And I don't like complicated.