Katheryn's Baby

This started as a completely different story, involving a bad decision that destroys a marriage. Then, as I was writing it, I had a friend who almost did something drastic and it got me thinking about depression. Too much, as it turns out, so now I'm dumping it in Non-Erotic.

Thanks to that person who helped so much, but asked not to be named.

*****

May 5

"Stop!" I yelp, surprising even myself. "I can't do this!"

The world has tilted, and is spinning out of focus. "I can't do this," I repeat, mush-mouthed and nearly unintelligible.

A moment later...or at least I think it's only a moment...I'm sitting on the floor. How? Everything is so damn cloudy. I shake my head to clear, and it only makes it worse.

Voices are talking. Where? Focus. Dammit, focus.

Somewhere out there, in the next room, I can only concentrate long enough to pick up snippets.

"...seems genuinely upset..."

"...after all the talk, I thought we were good..."

"...to be a very hard decision..."

"...just so embarrassed! If I'd known he was going to..." that was my wife, Melody.

"...appreciate that you tried..."

"...too close to give up now!"

"...going to risk your marriage, not for any..."

"...don't you two let me talk to him..."

I close my eyes, concentrating very hard on restoring the world to full fidelity.

Fidelity. Ha. Funny, Don.

When clarity begins to return, I become aware of our friend Katheryn's wheelchair pulling up next to me.

"You okay, Don?" She asks gently.

"I don't know," I admit. "I'm not sure what happened. I just...sort of seized up."

Her hand touches my shoulder. "I understand," she whispers. But the pain in her voice is palpable.

"I only need a minute." I insist. "I'll be fine."

She leans over and kisses my brow. "No," she says. "This was a mistake. Or, it almost was. But I want you to know how much it means to me and Adam that you tried."

"Don't," I insist. "I only need a minute."

From in the kitchen, Adam's baritone calls out. "Everything okay in there?" He sounds a little exasperated. Not angry, exactly...just frustrated and confused.

Kathryn shouts back that we're fine, and that he can just chill out and wait a few minutes. She then turns to me with an apologetic look and tear-rimmed eyes. "They won't understand. It's a different kind of sacrifice for them than it is for us...it's certainly not much of one for him! Just please...be patient, and don't get upset. We'll tell them together."

I shake my head. "I'm not calling a stop." But I feel the need to add, "Melody would understand."

Katheryn pats my shoulder. "She'd want to. But this is hard for her, too, and in a way that no man can understand. She's laid it all on the line. And she'll see this panic as a forewarning of rejection."

"I never would."

"then don't tell me," she sits up straight, wincing at the pain. "tell her. Make sure she knows how you feel. And," she pats me again, "if you do decide that you can't go through with it, then please don't force it...not for me, or for Adam, or anyone. We'll all be okay."

"I'm alright." I raise my voice, annoyed at the kid gloves. "I'm alright! It's okay!" But even as I say it the nausea starts up again. I fake a smile and try to act bored, or disaffected, while the world churns around me.

She nods in agreement, no more meaning it than I did, and wheels away.

Their carpet is rough to the touch. The trails of her wheels criss-cross the room. I rub my face.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

"...sure he's okay?"

"...probably just a little case of the jitters..."

"...more than that. I'm worried about how he'll deal..."

"...I mean, it's not like we wanted any of our own!"

"Maybe he's changed his mind..."

I close my eyes, concentrating. Lucidity. Lucidity.

When I come to again, there is a different kind of shadow over me.

"Come on, honey," Melody whispers tenderly. "Let's go home."

"I said I'm alright." But even I can tell this sounds stubborn, petulant.

"I know," her arms wrap around me.

"It's the right thing to do."

"I know," she kisses my head. "But not tonight."

-

May 13

She snuggles into my armpit, sweat-sheened and content. my heart pounds joyously.

"I'm going to miss this," she purrs, equal parts appreciative and listless. "I can't wait until we can just be us again."

"You'll have a replacement. You'll be fine." But I'm just teasing, and she knows it.

"I hope we don't have to wait too long," she kisses my pec. "I don't like the idea of us being apart in that way."

Too long? a day is too long. An hour. But surely she knows that. "it worries me, too."

Something in my voice causes her to lift her head up and study me. "for some people, it only takes a few weeks."

"Some people try for years."

"we both got checked. We are both able."

"I was there, remember? Your tubes...they said you'd need to be...patient." I swallow hard. "It will take a while. I know it will."

"Adam will make up the slack. The doctor said he makes enough for two men." She scowls, disliking that she even has to say this. "He called him a..a bull." She's getting agitated, so I kiss her forehead and stroke her back.

"I'm not afraid. I trust your optimism. And I still think it's the right thing to do."

Eventually, she lays her head back down.

"It won't be a year," she whispers. "We wouldn't let it take that long."

I don't respond.

After a while she sighs. "I'm glad you stopped it when you did. I'm glad we had a chance to talk it out more."

I look up. "You feel better?"

A pause. "Don't you?"

"of course I do." I squeeze her close.

"Anyway, this will be a better system." she snuggles in again. "It's so much better if you don't have to be there. I worried about that."

"I was just trying to help find a way to get it over with sooner."

"It makes so much more sense," she sighs. "I mean, Adam works from home, and I'm here by myself all day..."

-

May 17

She's on the phone with her mother. I'm pretending to read the newspaper, listening to every word.

No matter how hard we tried, we just couldn't think of a way to hide it from family. so...

"Mom, just stop," she has her hand to her forehead, her mouth drawn tight. "That's never going to happen. You know that. We are just not the parenting type. And besides..."

She is pacing in the kitchen, yet another sign that this is not been a pleasant conversation.

"I will not," she snaps. "No!...No...well, I suppose I will...yes, but more like..." Another in a long line of sighs. She starts throwing dishes into the sink. "Yes, I'm sure he can handle it. He's a strong man. He's not like dad...Oh, stop it!! You don't really believe that. Babies shouldn't be made in a...in a tube!" She huffs. "Yeah, well...the only one obsessed with THAT here is YOU!"

For a long moment there is silence, and I begin to wonder if maybe she hung up. Then, her voice bursts forth, shrill and furious.

"Of course we talked to a priest!"

-

May 22

"Wait."

Sounds familiar, right? Only this time it's her that's calling out in a panic, and i'm the one caught standing in the doorway.

It's 7:30 in the morning, and I'm just on my way to work...

"Tell me that you'll still love me," she whispers. It comes out fast, like she's embarassed by her own need for reassurance.

I don't have to speak. I just open my arms, and she launches forward, rushing into them. "Forever and ever," I promise.

She relaxes, but still shivers. "I'm really scared," she says.

"I am too." But I hug her all the more tightly, and add, "This is a good thing that you're doing."

"we are doing," she corrects me. "this belongs to all of us."

My stomach tightens a little. For some reason, that bothers me. But that's called denial, and I suppose...

"Just don't stop loving me back," I tell her, and she kisses my face all over.

"Never never never," she says between kisses.

"I have to go, or I'll be late," I say, stepping back. "What time is he expecting-" she holds up a hand and I stop. "Sorry. It's hard not to...want to know." We study each other's faces, unsure how to say goodbye. "Will you be okay?" I ask.

She gives a tiny nod. "Will you?"

"I will."

Is it a lie? I am beyond the point of knowing.

I focus on the small. Just walk, friend. Get in the car. Drive to the corner at the top of the hill. Take a left. Drive and drive and drive and don't think about it don't think about it don't think...

Wipe your eyes, you coward.

-

May 22 (cont.)

The house looks the same, my wife looks the same, and supper is on the table.

It's all the same, so maybe I'm the one that's changed.

"It's a nice night out," she offers, clearly looking for something small to say.

"Mmm," I agree without much heart.

"Interested in a walk?"

Am I? It sounds nice, actually. "Okay."

She chews her lip. "Will you...hold my hand? While we walk?"

Her insecurity warms me. "I always do," I remind her.

She bursts into smiling. "I know."

-

May 23

The alarm goes off. Its incessant electronic beeping is science's pure perfection of irritation.

I shut it off, blink into the growing morning light, and lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling.

This is the day...the first real full day where she's not mine anymore. The first time that I'm waking up as one of several. The first day where the other is past, present, and future. A whole day of being...not 'us'...but just 'me.' Of her having had and continuing to have intimacies and experiences that I have no part to play in. Of being the husband, but no longer the lover.

What happened yesterday? I don't know much about it. Not much in the way of detail was offered or desired.

Well, that's not entirely true. How anyone could not wonder, I don't know.

But what will happen tomorrow? A year from now? i'd very much like to know.

I'm scared, you see.

I put the hurt away, reach out and touch her flesh. Someone else's playground. someone else's joy.

And what about her? How does she feel?

I yank my hand away, leap from the bed, stumble towards the shower, and try not to think about sex.

I try and I try and I try.

-

May 28

Her skin is soft as she leans against me on the couch. My Melody has the softest, most remarkable feel to her.

And I'm not the only one who knows that.

-

June 4

Two weeks? No. That has to be wrong.

Can that really be all?

It feels like a lifetime.

She's made supper, pretended not to notice as I moved my food around but didn't eat, and she glances over her shoulder at me as she returns to the kitchen to get the wine, like she's checking to make sure I'll still be there when she gets back.

In return, I watch her hips turn the corner and feel a flash of bitter jealousy. How many times, Adam? How many times have you been inside my wife?

I shake my head, and pretend to be at ease as she returns with my glass. She watches my eyes, while trying not to, but she's already missed the moment she's afraid of seeing.

She opens her mouth to speak, can't find any small talk worth faking, and closes it.

So many tiny additions to our lives, and all of them made with worry.

-

June 11

"So, uh...how are you holding up?" Adam asks.

I study my beer, tap the glass with a finger, and consider the question. For a mindless moment hot anger courses through me...this is the guy who's pumping himself into my wife as often as humanly possible. He's been at it for weeks, now, having the time of his life with her body while I'm cut off completely. Shit, he's trying to blend his genetic makeup with hers...to create a child that has his eyes and her cheekbones...and he has the gall to try and get me to TALK about it?

But the reaction is childish, and I know it. Adam is, in fact, a true friend...as close and true as they come...or we wouldn't have even come to this point. He's kind, he's there when you need him. He rebuilt our deck for free when the tree fell on the old one. And he's been tiptoeing around me for weeks, quietly seeking my acceptance and feeling guilty of betraying our friendship. And he's been treating his own wife like a queen.

Truth is, he probably realizes he could come out of this thing without anybody at all. If it all goes south, he would be the first casting choice for everybody's villain. He's on a very thin rope, and yet he's worried for me.

"I'm surviving," I admit. "It isn't always easy. Melody and I seem to need to touch each other more. We hug, hold hands...We're both scared." I take a sip. "We're all scared."

"Yeah." He glances at the girls, out sharing a drink on the deck. "I think it's making me paranoid."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

He hesitates, fearful, then asks, "Does Katheryn seem different to you? Like, quieter?"

"Not really."

He doesn't look convinced, but says, "Yeah." His eyes don't leave his wife. "I worry about her."

I shake my head. "You're seeing things. She's happy, Adam. If anything, I think she's happier and friendlier than ever before. Especially with Melody. Anybody can see that a weight's been lifted off her shoulders."

I can see that he thinks I'm humoring him, so I change the subject. "Just wait until they're spending all your money on baby clothes. That's where she'll get her revenge."

He just keeps watching Katheryn wheel about, his eyes tight and jaw clenched. It comforts me a little to see him looking scared and alone, but that doesn't mean I enjoy his pain. "Yeah." Then, "It feels like I'm cheating, Don. Like I'm a shitty person, taking advantage of the people who love me."

I go back to studying my beer.

He turns to me at last. "Am I a shitty person?" he asks quietly.

And I know what he's asking. I know why he's upset and why he needs the reassurance. I can't seem to respond, but I understand.

-

June 13

Sarah is leaning into me on the couch. Our movie is almost over.

"Can I ask you something?" She asks suddenly.

"Of course."

"It's...it's going to sound strange. But please tell me honestly."

"Go on."

"Am I a..." she tenses, "...a bad person?"

My throat tightens. Don't do this to me, baby. Don't say anything more.

See, I knew why Adam asked me that. I knew why he was so terribly unnerved. I knew why he felt that great, shameful uncertainty.

He asked because none of our justifications for this thing have offered any excuse for just how much he was enjoying it.

So please, Melody. My Melody. My love. Dont let me understand that you might be having as good a time as all that.

"I'm sorry," she cooes after a minute. Her hand massages my chest. She kisses my cheek. I start to relax. "It just feels like I'm cheating...like I'm letting everyone down."

I stand up.

"Honey?" she asks nervously.

Shit shit shit.

"It's fine, honey," I say. "I just thought I heard my cell vibrating."

I wait until she's asleep that night, before slipping down to the kitchen and letting myself cry.

-

June 21

"I'm sorry about earlier."

She looks up, gives me a sad smile. "It's okay."

"No. It isn't."

"You must be so frustrated." She glances downward. "It's been a month..."

"I'm fine."

She starts to say more, then looks away.

I chew on my lip. "Would you..." This is a hard question to ask, and I breathe deep. "Could I ask you some questions about it?" She tenses, and I add, "I know we agreed not to. But my imagination is driving me crazy. Not knowing is worse than knowing could ever be."

She doesn't respond.

"Mel."

She's shaking.

"I'm sorry. Forget it."

But before I can leave, she's wrapped around me. We stay that way for a long while.

"I'm so afraid." She mumbles into my chest.

"Me, too." I hold her.

"Don't ever let go." She can't stop shaking. "Don't ever let me go."

"Never ask me to."

We both have a hard time sleeping that night.

-

June 27

We're all on the couches, Katheryn and Adam over for a Friday night movie. It's been a surprisingly relaxed evening, full of pizza and jokes.

Then, I feel the need to pee, and get up. "Be right back," I say, heading towards the stairs up to the bedrooms.

"If you're going to the bathroom, use the one downstairs," Melody calls.

"What's wrong with the master?"

Adam never takes his eyes off the television as he says, "It's out of TP."

After a second he registers what he's said, and looks around at everyone staring at him.

"Sorry," he mutters. "I just...it just...slipped out..."

I look at Melody. The expression on her face is horrified, apologetic and ashamed.

After a while, Katheryn breaks the silence by hoisting herself into her chair. "Look at the time," she says, giving her husband a warning look. "We should probably get home."

-

August 12

I come in at a sprint. "Where is she?"

Adam has taken the time to get fully dressed, thank god, and having lept up from the couch as soon as I burst through the door points down the hall. He has a pale, fearful look, and his hair is mussed. "She just started freaking out, out of nowhere, and locked herself in the bathroom," he explains. "I...I didn't know what to do."

I disappoint myself by studying him for signs of deception. He's genuinely terrified, and truly upset. "Was something wrong?" I ask. "Did something...happen?"

He shakes his head, and his bewilderment is real. "Nothing but this...I mean, nothing out of the ordinary."

I frown. Mel seemed like she was in a good mood when I left this morning. "There wasn't anything about her behavior or about the way she was acting that looks questionable in retrospect?"

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head again. "It was no different from any other day, right up until she freaked out."

Any other day. My stomach twists a little, but it's such a familiar sensation now that I barely register it. "You stay here." I head off down the hall.

The bathroom door is indeed locked, and I can hear her through it. I can't tell if she's crying or just breathing heavy, but the emotion is palpable. "Mel?" I call out. "Honey, it's me. Can you open up?"

It takes her a long moment to respond. "Is Adam gone?"

"He's still here. Do you want me to ask him to leave?"

Another long moment. "Tell him I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for freaking out! God, I'm so embarassed."

"I'll tell him later. Can you open the door?"

The longest pause. "I don't want to."

I sigh. "Can you tell me what happened?"

A tiny, timid, "No."

"Honey, you have to talk about it, whatever it is. I'm here for you. And nobody here is going to judge you. We all care about you."

"Please," she begs. "Don't ask me. Just...just forget about it. Forget it ever happened."

"You know I can't just ignore this. Talk to me."

"Don, please..."

"What happened?"

"It's not worth-"

"Melody, please!"

"I came!" she blurts out suddenly, her shrill mania making the small and simple word sound obscene. "He was...in me, and moving, and I came so incredibly hard!" Then she wails wordlessly, almost animalistic in her self-loathing and shame.

The effect is concussive, like a boot to my chest, and I am suddenly and vividly aware of Adam lingering nervously at the end of the hall. I grip the door frame for support. I will remain standing.

"I understand," I say with the most tightly controlled, emotionally drained quiet that I can muster. "It must have been a shock. But it is still a natural occ-"

"It wasn't the first time," she whispers, interrupting my attempt.

I freeze, succumbing to terrible foreboding chill.

Wasn't the first time? what does THAT mean? And how...

Adam's words come back to me then, unrequested and terminally unwelcome: "It was no different from any other day."

The world is off kilter. No. I'm swaying. I'm about to fall. I grip harder and fight to remain. I WILL stay standing.