Purple Heart | Demi Lovato

9

Demi

"I've been sitting in that house another for two months.

True to his word, Wilmer left for active duty. He's stationed in Afghanistan again, at least I think. He doesn't call, or write, which I understand. I went to our lawyer and got the divorce papers. Next time he comes home on leave, he'll sign them.

And then it'll be over.

It'll be me sitting here in this house, forever thinking about my marriage and what couldn't been. Forever wishing he loved me enough to come home, to want me over a life of war. I've been sitting in this house, while all I want to be doing is laying with him. I didn't want my marriage to be over, but I didn't want this life. I didn't want the constant worry of him coming home to me in nothing more than a wooden box. I never wanted to be handed a folded up flag.

So I had to choose to make him choose.

I can't help but think about how stupid I was to be so undoubtedly positive he'd pick me. After confessing his soul about what he did to get home to me, I thought he'd see that I loved him more than anything he could've done, that I loved him more than I cared about who he had killed. But now I'm alone, and so is he, and I can't stop thinking about how it's not supposed to be this way. This isn't how it's supposed to end."

"I think that's a good place to stop for the day." Across the room sat my therapist, Dr. Reardon, an older woman with kind brown eyes who somehow had the ability to make me spill my soul. "You've talked a lot, and I know you don't enjoy doing that too much."

"I don't have anyone else to talk to." I sighed. "My mom... She's in Texas, she doesn't even know he went back. Marissa, I shouldn't bother her with this. She's trying to make it in New York doing journalism."

"Maybe you need to get away." She suggested. "Take a weekend and fly to Texas or a drive down to New York... get away from everything keeping you here."

I slowly shook my head. "I don't want to leave in case he comes back. I dream about it sometimes... I walk downstairs in the morning and he's sitting there holding two cups of coffee, a smile on his face, no bullet holes in his body. It's perfect... and then I wake up."

"And if he does come back?"

I swallowed hard and looked away. "He'll never forgive me... Things will be worse if he comes back."

"Because you've kept this from him?"

"Yes." My hand came down to touch the bump in my abdomen, a three month old life growing inside. "He should know about his son. That's who he's fighting for... But there was moment. We were fighting, I asked if we could go away for our anniversary, maybe finally put this behind us. If he asked if we had the money and I told him that we did unless he wanted to start a family anytime soon." I looked up at the ceiling. "He told me Paris was a good idea. He doesn't want a family, he doesn't even want me let alone a baby. And this baby... he shouldn't grow up with a father who doesn't want him, who won't be able to show up and actually be a father. He's better off with just me."

"It sounds like you have a decision to make."

I slowly exhaled and nodded. "I do."

When I walked in the door after my therapy appointment, the phone was ringing. I sighed and dropped my purse, quickly walking over to the phone. Barely glancing at the caller ID I hit the answer button and wedged it between my shoulder and my ear, walking over to the fridge.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Demetria Valderrama?"

"This is she, may I ask who's calling?"