Chapter 4

By the time I woke up, I felt better. I wasn’t worried about pregnancy anymore. Well, a little, but I was more worried that Teresa would ruin my chances with dating any of the other girls in the sci-fi club. One thing I had kept up with all my dating is avoiding a “girlfriend” in the group. Girlfriends meant they’d want to go to your house sooner or later, and you could only keep up the “I can’t - I haven’t been able to let another woman into my house since my wife died” for so long.

So I had to distance myself, but not be a jerk. Of course, there was the wife to deal with, wondering what time I got in. This time my story was simple enough: dinner, headed to a friend’s house to watch something, fell asleep on the couch before I could call, so sorry, nothing personal.

My wife glared at me. She knew I was lying, but couldn’t prove it. I promised her it wouldn’t be a problem again, that I wouldn’t go for a bit and just stay at home.

At work, I went into phase 2. I called Teresa from my cell phone - harder to tie to any place of business and home - and told her I was going out of town next week. We would meet up for a bit on Saturday before I left if that was all right.

It was very all right with her. She was almost gushing with virgin’s adoration, that sentiment a woman gets to her first man. Maybe it’s a crock, but it seems real enough. Come Saturday I met with her, and we screwed again in her bed, this time with me covering my cock with a condom. I don’t know what it was about her, but I could hardly keep my composure and came within 20 minutes. Still, it was long enough to satisfy her, and it wasn’t like she had a whole lot of lovers to compare me to, right?

I wasn’t going out of town. She didn’t know that. But it gave me an excuse to be away from the sci-fi club, let her affection cool down a little when I “returned”. I called her about once a week for the next two weeks to let her know how things were doing, that I missed her, and so on and so forth.

The third time she called me. I was driving home at the time, which was good. I usually leave the phone on vibrate, but if it had rung at home I would have either had to ignore it somehow or decide I wasn’t going to get it because it was a “salesman or something”. That excuse had worked on my wife pretty well.

“Steve, I’ve got something to tell you.” Teresa told me.

And I knew. Before she said the next words, I knew. My spine turned to ice, and my heart started pounding my chest so hard I thought it might pop out.

“I’m late,” she told me.

I was quiet for a second. Then I asked the most lame guy question. “Are you sure?”

She sighed condescendingly. “Oh, I’m sure. One kit, and then Sally drove me to Planned Parenthood, and they confirmed it.”

“Well, then it sounds pretty sure,” I told her. I was quiet again. “So, what do you want to do? I mean, are you going to keep it -”

“Oh, I’m going to keep it,” she said emphatically. Then, in a softer voice, “I guess God just wanted to make sure we stayed together.”

“Maybe,” I replied. Ordinarily I’m against abortion, but I was quickly learning I could make an exception. “Ah - dang, I got to go, I have to get off this exit, and don’t want to crash. I’ll call you later, all right?”

“Are you OK?” she asked me, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

“Sure - just need to think.”

We hung up. And I had to think. Oh, boy do I have to think.

And so I thought. I told my wife I was just distracted by something at work. I went out on a drive. I sat in an empty parking lot, looking up at the stars, wanting to beg God to make it not true. I didn’t dare. I knew it was all of my own making, and I didn’t deserve to be rescued from my fate.

I went home and played with my daughter. My wife must have known that something was up, but she didn’t pry as I stacked up blocks and my daughter gleefully tore them down.

That night as I lay in bed, my wife sleeping next to me, I was still thinking. The phrase “rock bottom” kept going through my mind.

I was going to lose it all. Maybe I hadn’t loved my wife in a long time, but she was - familiar. I knew I’d have to move out, find an apartment of my own. I wondered about my daughter. Would I ever see her again?

Melodramatic? Maybe. But for the first time since I was living at home, terrified to make a noise for fear that I’d get beaten again, I was scared. I hadn’t been frightened of anything for a long time. I was terrified.

Of what? Losing everything? Yeah - and then there was the other part. That I’d have to admit what I’d done. That everyone would know what I’d done, the terrible, awful thing I’d done. That I’d liked to the people I’d called my friends. I’d lied to my family. Alimony and child support were all in my future.