Pulling into a parking space on the fairly quiet street, Gillian made sure her doors were locked, shoved the CD off when the Justice song came on because she couldn’t deal with that, too, dropped her head on the steering wheel, and allowed herself to cry. Or rather she couldn’t stop it.
What had she done? It was all her own doing. At least she recognized it was her own doing, her own choices, that got her where she was. She didn’t even like sex with Corey. That was the kick of the whole thing. She had never enjoyed it much after the first guy, the only one she’d really wanted, the one she was happy with until he decided he couldn’t deal with her depressive episodes and walked away during one of her “cold” spells, as he called it. He’d tried to come back once. Gillian told him to get lost; if he couldn’t deal with her in good and bad, she didn’t want him. It was the right thing to do. Karenne agreed she couldn’t let him come and go. Still, it had taken a lot out of her willingness to really try again.
Talking with Hank had been nice, though. She didn’t care if he didn’t want more than long talks, walking together, an occasional nice dinner, and maybe theatre every now and then. Or a concert, if he would go to something besides a country act. She might even agree to do that with him.
And yet he’d dumped her when she said she needed to matter. He took her back to the hotel and dumped her off, like all the rest. Because she didn’t matter. What good was she doing anyone? Even her job had become no more than a paycheck. A food story. Why did it matter? People were going to eat what they wanted no matter what she said. And why shouldn’t they? Why should her opinion matter to anyone in the world? What made her think she had a right to ... to tell anyone else what they should think?
Hank was right.
She’d become a journalist to inform, to get the facts out there to people so they could decide, and instead... She wasn’t a journalist. She was an opinion columnist. Like almost everything she read recently.
Sniffing hard to control herself, Gillian reached into her center column for tissues, found an empty package, cursed, and leaned over to grab fast food napkins out of her glove compartment.
“Ohhwww...” Pressing a napkin to her face to stop the nasal drip, she set the other hand against a pain in her stomach. “Don’t do this.” She found herself breathing too fast and forced it to slow. “Please. Be okay. Don’t do this.” She looked down at her hand over her stomach, where the baby she hadn’t let herself think much about made its presence known. Strongly.
She had to take care of herself better. She had to calm down ... for the sake of this child, this innocent little life depending on her...
Gillian’s hands shook. Her tears started again. She most definitely mattered. At least to this little one, she did. Everything she did now mattered.
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