Chapter 11 - Gone

It is a week later.

I stare at the test with eyes of disbelief. The device confirms me pregnant. My third child is growing each day I do not take the initiative to terminate it.

I feel the slight urge to end my life. Not out of fear but shame. Pure disgust overrides my brain as I confront the facts more and more, every free thought I have being intercepted by the same familiar face. The face of my lover.

The doorbell rings. I pull off my velvet housecoat and hang it on the bathroom door hook as I approach the front door dressed in nothing more than my yellow tank top and boxer shorts.

My latest escapade stands at my door, towering over me. His unexpected visit reminds me of stalker behaviour. Something only men with nerve will do. A sudden adrenaline rush kicks in. I am turned on by this immensely

"How are you?" I ask, my voice emerging from my body in a purr.

"I'm doing well." He answers with a kindness to his voice that I easily take for pity. "I was in the area installing walls in a neighbouring house."

"Ain't no rest for the wicked?"

"No." He laughs, admitting to being a workaholic. My insecure side comes out of the shadows and shames me for working an unsteady job of freelance art. I suddenly wish to disappear from this conversation as soon as possible.

But my courtesy caters to him when I say, "Would you like to come in for a coffee?"

He looks over my shoulder, appearing as though he is about to say something I don't want to hear. I smile anxiously. He finally agrees to come in after what seems to be two minutes of silence. We walk together into the kitchen and sit across from each other at the table.

There is a stillness in the air. A vibe that tells me things aren't going to be okay.

"There is something I need to tell you." Our words come out at the exact same time. The solemnity prevents either of us from laughing at the coincidence.

"You go first." I say.

"My ex wants to try again." He says. Despite my face hardening, he continues speaking. "I've been waiting for her for years. I thought she'd never come around."

Oh, wonderful.

A love triangle between the one that got away, the widow and the carpenter who knocked the widow up. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about how used I turned out to be by this man. I don't even care if I did the same; made a specimen out of him for my personal gain. He was the man. I was the widow.

"And I thought it would be better to tell you in person. That I can't see you anymore."

I want to laugh out loud. We had sex, like, twice? And he's speaking in this demeanour as if we have been together for months.

Robert never acted like a woman in our disputes.

"It's fine, Richard." My mature front leads me to say. "These things happen."

In reality, I want to call him a conniving bastard. For looking for something permanent with me, of all people, beyond emotionally unavailable to begin with and now carrying his offspring. I want to pop him in the mouth with my fist.

"What did you have to tell me?" His words cut through me.

I avert my eyes from the tablecloth to immediately meet his gaze and smile. The kind of smile that indicates true pain exists in me this very moment.

"It wasn't important."