Thomas made his way along the cracked sidewalk. His left shoe sticking on remnants of old chewing gum that made his shoe sound like Velcro as he walked. Though it didn’t seem to split his mind from work, from everything that mattered. Hating your job had to be something everyone did. A constant reminder that your life could get better, but probably wouldn’t. For him it had become second nature like breathing. Every day was like the last, as he walked to work and then walked home, each time reminding himself of the past. Missed chances to make his life better. Elle was about the only thing in his life that mattered to him anymore. He felt like a fisherman at times watching all the big ones swim by but holding on to the one that mattered, the one who made him happy.
Two years ago he had moved to Seattle with Elle just after their wedding. She said it would do him some good getting away from the smog and the earthquakes, to just feel a bit of nature. Who needs nature, when you’ve got sun. The clouds overhead began to turn darker and let out a thunderous boom. He stopped, glancing up trying to picture what the sun would look like and wondered if Seattle had ever actually seen it. Rain ten months out of the year, if not twelve. That had to be the selling point. Back to nature? More like drown in a flood. He had wanted to stay in California, but Elle had argued for the move. Her family and her life, before they met at college was here. It made her happy, and what made her happy he figured should make him happy.
Most of his days at work he sat staring out the window watching birds flying, jets screaming by and the occasional child on the street skipping along. They didn’t care. The birds fluttered away, the frequent flyers trotting to another destination and even the child still drenched with hope that things could get better. Would anyone have noticed him unless he went berserk and busted out his office window? Who misses the associate anyway, right? There are hundreds of them ready to fill the position at the drop of a hat. Fumbling with his briefcase, he tried rubbing his hands together for warmth, but it kept getting in the way. It was infuriating to be always ignored unless you screwed up. Never to be acknowledged for the good, just reminded of the bad.
He raised his arm to get a quick look at his watch. 7:35. At least he could get away from everything tonight. Work, life, and even his wife. Elle had already made plans tonight. She often made plans with her girlfriends several times a month. Tonight would be just another one of those nights out. Always saying she just needed a night out to unwind from all the stress. What could she have to unwind from? Yelling third-graders were nothing by comparison to his job. Sixty-year old men screaming, telling you to finish your work while spitting pieces of their tuna fish sandwiches in your face. He couldn’t just send his bosses home at the end of the day with a mark on their papers as she did. Thomas was stuck in a rut. And he called it that often as he sat in front of the television, his life slipping away; staring at legal books and depositions on the coffee table in front of him. Trying to be interested in something else—sports, poker or golf. He would have rather watched bass fishing than drone over more depositions.
Thomas tried to stop thinking about it, sighing as he walked, feeling himself unwind a bit. A tired exhale escaped his lips. If only she knew. If she only knew where he was going tonight. He used every excuse to go to Dirges without Elle knowing. She knew all of them. “Late night at the office, honey. Got to work late again.” That one seemed to work best when he wasn’t standing outside in the rain with screaming fans just a window away. It was a weird thought that after two years of marriage she didn’t want him going anywhere near a bar. She used to love bars; hell, he picked her up in a bar. What was so bad about a bar?
The air grew thin. Thomas started to walk faster; he knew it was only a matter of time before it rained. “Damn it,” he yelled, as he raised his briefcase over his head and sprinted towards the bar. The sky opened up just for him. Water cascaded off his briefcase obscuring his view and drenching everything else. He caught his breath underneath the awning that outstretched from the door of Dirge’s. His face dimmed as he held the briefcase over his head and watched an older couple with umbrellas, saying “Nice day” as they passed. He fought the urge to answer and instead shot them a look of disgust as he dropped the briefcase to his feet and shook his arms. He wiped the rest of the water from his hair with his hands. In a huff he snatched the briefcase up, clutched the door handle and flung it open. The hinges creaked and moaned as if announcing his entrance.
On his way from work he met his friend Kyle at their favorite bar, Dirge’s, a bad habit, as Elle would have called it. Thomas never considered Dirge’s as much more than a means to escape from the world. Like all his habits, lying to his wife had become another one. He found it necessary to search out a quiet place, a bathroom or a telephone booth where he could escape from the screaming Mariner fans to call his wife. Telling her that he would again be ‘working late.’
The night went on with drink after drink passing their lips. Kyle complaining about his alimony stealing ex-wife and how he thought he was getting fatter. He grabbed his gut for emphasis, only giving up when he realized he couldn’t grab much. It was around eleven by the time Thomas finally decided to call it quits. The bartender was turning off the television while he finished his wipe down of the tables. He scooped left over peanuts back into the bowls then placed them on the bar for tomorrows crowd. Elle would be home soon if she wasn’t already and he needed to shower to wash off the evidence. No harm. No foul.
Thomas slid his arms back into his coat and reached for his briefcase. Pulling a few twenties from his pocket he stared at them before slapping them on the table. Thomas' hand gestured goodbye as he stumbled around tables towards the door. Kyle’s head drooped over a new pint of beer; he stared at it intently as if contemplating his next move.
The chill of the air startled Thomas as he burst out of Dirge’s. He glanced at his watch for good measure. 11:03. He still had time to get home, hopefully before Elle. His posture was slightly bent as he tried to catch his breath. Glancing down both directions of the street he noticed a friend of Elle’s. It was Sydney Parker. Seeing her wandering down the street made him a little concerned and he worried that Elle’s night had ended early. She was clinging onto a rather tall man, laughing every few seconds at whatever he said. Thomas’ pulse began to quicken as they drew closer. Straightening his posture, he said, “Sydney is that you?”
Her head lurched to the side and looked as if she was shocked to see him standing there, “Thomas?…Thomas, how are you?”
“I’m fine. Weren’t you and Elle going out…”
Sydney cut him off, “She called me at work saying she wasn’t feeling well. So I decided to go out with Carlos tonight.” She patted the man on his arm; he smiled and forced a low wave. “Didn’t she tell you?”
Thomas focused on the wall behind her and said, “She might have just forgotten.”
Carlos whispered into Sydney’s ear and they both nodded in agreement.
“Well it was good seeing you Tom. We have to get going or we’ll be late. Tell Elle ‘hi’ from me and that I hope she feels better. Night Tom.”
Sydney waved as she and Carlos disappeared down the street. He continued watching them pass in and out of view beneath the streetlights. Then lost them as they turned down a side street. His beer haze faded as he turned back to the road and realized he needed a cab, now.
Thomas’ hand settled uncomfortably on the doorknob, while his other hand held the key in place. She was either home sleeping or waiting. Click. The door popped open; the lights were out. He stepped into the entryway carefully watching each step as he pressed his weight against the floorboards. He shut the door and clicked the deadbolt back.
He laid his briefcase by the kitchen table and removed his shoes sliding them underneath one of the chairs. He looked at the bedroom door and moved towards it listening intently for the slightest rustle. Nothing just dead silence. He pushed the door open and peered inside. The shades weren’t drawn and the lights from the street peeked through. He narrowed his vision towards her side of the bed, waiting for the comforter to rise then fall rhythmically. Nothing moved. He looked closer his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The bed was still made. The sheets stretched firmly, pillows placed two by two and her glasses still open on the nightstand. Elle wasn’t home. His eyebrows furrowed. Where could she be? She had canceled her date with the girls. Sydney said she wasn’t feeling good. She should be home asleep or ready to scream at him for smelling like beer. Where was she?
She wouldn’t go out this late, he thought to himself, staring at her side of the bed. Walking into the room he took a better look at everything. He checked the bathroom then the closet before finally sitting on the edge of the bed. Nothing was out of place. He rubbed his head hoping for some revelation. Sydney popped into his head saying, “She wasn’t feeling well.” Thomas leaned forward, his hands on his knees. She hadn’t called him. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket hearing the familiar pang as it came to life. No missed calls. Thomas knew her numbers by heart. But his fingers kept getting in the way as he pressed the numbers and then had to erase them to start again. Slipping the phone to his ear he listened first the silence, then it rang three times. Her voicemail sprang to life, “Hi, this is Elle Clade leave a message after the beep, thanks.” He slapped the phone shut and threw it next to him on the bed. He didn’t like to leave messages and knew that the missed call would show up on her phone anyways.
Thomas leaned back onto the bed, his vision on the ceiling. Elle did spend a lot of time with the girls. But how many times was she with the girls? He had so much trust in her that he never questioned her about anything. His eyes followed the crack as it weaved across the ceiling. It looked bigger. Much like his suspicion. Had he put too much faith in her and trusted her with more than he should. What could Elle be doing?
The front door clicked. Thomas’ body stiffened. Then it creaked open. His body involuntarily sprang off of the bed and wobbled out of the bedroom barefoot. Elle stood there in the entry frozen. Neither one said a thing. Both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. Elle reached up and flicked the light switch next to the front door, causing Thomas to shield his eyes from the light.
“Hi, honey,” she said in hushed tone as if he was asleep. “Boy was it a long day. How was yours?”
“Fine I suppose, but…”
“I’m just gonna hop in the shower and then go to bed, alright?” she interjected.
Thomas nodded, his mouth still open.
Elle patted him on his arm and hugged her purse closer to her chest. She reached up to kiss him on the cheek, but pulled away, keeping her eyes focused on the floor. She walked into the bedroom without another word. He knew what it was. She had smelled the beer. He turned and listened at the sound of water as it pounded off the plastic shower curtain. The metal rings clinked together. The tub settled as she stepped inside. Was he making something out of nothing? This was the woman that he fell in love with, the woman he married, though she did spend a lot of time with the girls lately. But something was weird. She didn’t even scoff at the smell of beer or make a comment. Over the past month she’d changed. She was always complaining about Dirge’s, with every comment he made in its defense flaring into another fight.
Thomas listened to the shower, missing the moments they spent together. The way she would curl up in his arms as they laid on the couch. Burying her face in his chest during the horrifying parts of a scary movie. Kissing him when she felt like being romantic. He never cared about the fancy restaurants or the big parties with clients it was just about her. It was always about her, just curling up in his arms feeling safer; just knowing that he was there. Hugging him when she’d had a bad day or just wanted to be near him.
Lately though she had changed. She never wanted to curl up with him and watch a movie. She was constantly tired or exhausted from work. She barely ever hugged him. She kissed him only briefly as if on demand. Sex as well had become a novelty, a lost habit with just one more excuse. Or was it just a diversion from something else? He flipped the light off near the front door and walked back into the bedroom to change.
Throughout the night he fought the urge to wake her as he stared indignantly at the alarm clock. His mind fumbled over the words he would say. Knowing that each one could be misconstrued and end up leading to another fight. It was as if their habits had grown towards separation. His mind raced over thoughts and possibilities of what she had been doing. Maybe she just went out for some fresh air. It was Kyle’s drunken conversations about his ex-wife that popped into his head. All the fighting, the distance and the lack of everything else made him wonder. “No”, he exclaimed to himself, “Elle would never do that.”
The day after graduation was warm. They walked along the beach near Oceanside. The water rushed up around their feet, then retreated leaving the coarse sand darker and softer. They took each step in stride laughing and joking about being finished with school. “Finally,” they each said, then laughed. Elle wiped her blonde hair from her face just as a gust of wind blew it back. He remembered her smile as she brushed it behind her ear talking about another scrap booking project. She loved scrap booking and had a real knack for it. She spent hours cataloging their lives together from the first moment, saying, “It’s so that I never forget a single moment.” She even went so far as to plan their lives out, cutting children out of magazines and pasting them in front of her dream house. Elle always wanted children even then, “ooh-ing” and awe-ing” at babies that she passed on the street. Talking about how much she wished for one or two of her own someday.
They stopped just short of an outcropping of rocks where the waves crashed wildly. The sun was setting and everything was clear. Thomas glanced around at the scene and knew that this was the moment. Elle was beginning to shiver. He removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders. He got down on one knee. She covered her mouth as he extended his right hand where a 2-karat ring rested between his thumb and index finger. His hand shook uncontrollably. He hadn’t even had to ask. With tears in her eyes she said, “Yes.”
Beep. Beep. Beep. Thomas raised his right hand and slammed the snooze button. Elle rustled behind him. The thoughts began to recirculate in his mind. But why couldn’t he just ask her? They were married. He loved her. She loved him, didn’t she? Or was he not there enough? Was it his late night working that had made her feel unloved? It wasn’t so much about the fact that she spent so much time apart as it was how she acted. Pulling away from him when she was about to kiss him. Forcing her way out of a hug. Never wanting to stay up to watch a late night movie. Did she not want him anymore? He turned towards her pulling the sheets with him. Her blonde hair spread over her cheek, her chest rising softly. He used his hand to push the hair behind her ear. She sighed and placed her hand on top of his.
“Don’t you think it might be a little early for that Mr?”
He exhaled and leaned in closer, “Never stopped us before.”
She pressed her hand against his lips. Her face scrunched “Not in the mood. Besides you smell like beer.”
Thomas kissed her quickly on the forehead and rolled out of bed. He rubbed his toes in the carpet as he stood up. Another wonderful morning, he thought. He stretched his arms and watched raindrops cascading off the window. A disapproving look washed over his face, his arms dropped to his sides and he sauntered into the bathroom. At least he had the day off. A day to lie around the apartment, watch a game, drink a beer, and then if he had time finish the depositions for tomorrow. He threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before wandering out of the bedroom. Elle was in the kitchen pressing buttons wildly on the coffee maker, her patience thinning with each beep.
“I hate this stupid machine!” she said, slapping the counter. “You need to buy a new one today!”
She never used to let little things get to her before. Patience used to be one of her virtues. Yet today something seemed to be bothering her as she turned to him and waited for a response. Thomas ignored her as he opened the fridge. Her eyes pinned on the back of his head.
“Did you hear me?” she said.
He turned, holding the fridge door. “Hmm…oh yeah, coffee maker. Right, got it.” Then he went back to searching the fridge.
She kept her eyes on him.
“Is there something that you want to ask me?”
His body tensed, his eyes locked on a can of diet coke. “There is.”
She waited before asking, “Well, what is it?”
“Where were you last night?”
She didn’t even flinch. “I was with Sydney. You knew that.”
She lied. His vision tightened as his hand gripped the fridge door tighter. What did she have to lie for? What was it she was hiding? Who was she hiding? The thought of Kyle’s wife flashed before his eyes. All the times he said, “I just never knew. She just kept pulling away from me and the only way we ever talked was when we yelled at each other.” It couldn’t have been that, Elle would never have cheated on him. The recent exchanges they’d had, the fights, the tired excuses—all of them began to burn in his mind making him believe that he was no longer the one. He didn’t want to look at her, not while he thought of all the worst outcomes that ended with her writhing in ecstasy on top of some other guy. He felt nauseas as a pain shot through his chest. He wondered about all the other outings, how she probably wasn’t with any of her friends, just some other guy.
Elle put her hand against his head.
“I think you might be coming down with something. Why don’t you lie down? I’ll make you some soup before I leave,” she said, rubbing his shoulders.
Thomas slammed the door shut, magnets falling to the floor. The photo of them just after their engagement landed next to his foot. He stepped over it as he made his way to the table. Pulling the chair he made it screech across the linoleum, leaving dark black marks. He settled in the chair hard and thrust his elbows against the table. He didn’t want to believe it. But images of her and her new man filled his head. The one she now probably loved more. His head sweating as it lay propped in his hands.
Elle pressed her back against the edge of the sink and watched him. An expression of worry growing on her face. Thomas liked to keep most things to himself and brooded on everything. At their wedding, when he said his vows, he turned beat red, clenched his teeth and fought the urge to throw up.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
His gaze focused on the tabletop.
“You need to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on,” she said, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “What’s wrong Tom? You’re starting to scare me.”
He looked up at her. “You tell me,” he said.
She glanced around the room and gestured to herself confused.
“What do I have to tell you? You’re the one acting weird.”
“What were you doing last night?” He hit the table with his fist. “Where were you?” he said.
“What is wrong with you?” Tears began to run down her face.
“Where were you?” he almost shouted.
“I was with Sydney.”
“I know that’s not true. I ran into Sydney last night on my way home, she said you weren’t feeling well. You didn’t go anywhere with her.” His eyes focused on her, “Where were you?” his voice lower in tone.
“I…I…don’t want to talk about it.” she turned from him.
“Don’t want to talk about what. You don’t want to talk about your new boyfriend?”
Anger shot across her face and she stood up. “What? New boyfriend, what the hell are you talking about Thomas?”
“You’ve been seeing someone else. I finally get it. All those nights I had to work late or went to Dirge’s instead of coming home. You felt lonely or abandoned, right. It was me wasn’t it that drove you away, drove you into ‘his’ arms.”
She slid back into her chair. Her eyes gazing at the floor.
“No, I wasn’t with Sydney or the girls last night,” she stopped and looked at him. “I was with my parents last night, we spent the all night talking…but I would never cheat on you…I love you.”
“How can I believe that? You were so quick to tell me that you were with Sydney last night. How can I believe anything that you tell me?”
Tears had already begun to stream down her face.
“I’m just so scared about…” her voice trailed off.
Elle still crying, tried to run towards the bedroom but knocked her purse to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Lipstick, eyeliner, a compact, cell phone, pictures and several other items scattered over the floor. One of the pictures caught Thomas’ eye. It had a date written on the back. It was a few days ago. He reached down and snatched it off the floor. He studied the writing, it wasn’t hers. Then flipped it over. The image was vague, mostly black with a fuzzy white image in the middle. Thomas knew what it was. He read the title near the top corner. Elle Marie Clade. It was her sonogram. She was pregnant. Thomas looked up to see Elle standing a few feet from him, her eyes red, and lips tightened.
“There were so many moments that I wanted to tell you…but I was just so...” she said. The rest of the words caught in her throat. Her hands covered her face as she started sobbing.
He watched her crying then turned back to the image, his fingers tracing what looked like arms and legs.
“Why would you hide this from me?” he said, studying the picture in detail. “Unless its not mine. Whose is it?”
Elle stopped crying. She pulled her hands from her face, cheeks stained with tears, and glared at him with confused red eyes. He repeated his question, his eyes fixed again on the picture.
“Whose is it?” he said.
“You can’t be serious. Whose is it?”
“I know I may not always be completely observant but honestly why would you have to hide this from me? Unless someone else knocked you up,” he said, waving the picture in front of him.
“No one knocked me up, except for you! I was just…scared.”
“Scared of what? Since I met you, you’ve always wanted a kid. Why would this change anything? Its what you’ve always wanted, sweetheart!”
“Its different when it’s inside you growing, changing everything about you.”
Thomas rose to his feet and tossed the picture at her. She watched it hit the floor before looking at him.
Her eyes narrowed. “You son of a bitch!” she yelled, as she ran crying into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Thomas looked at the closed bedroom door, and listened to her crying. Each one of her sobs piercing his chest. He stared at the sonogram lying on the floor. It was his child. It was their child. Feelings of anger washed away and instead regret filled the holes. Thomas hated himself. Hated the way he had acted like some child. Who cares where she was? Who cared? She was scared of what was happening to her, her body was changing. Who wouldn’t be scared by a new life?, he thought. It had been less than a day and he’d thought of all the worst things that could have happened. He let his anger get the best of him even though he knew that she didn’t do anything wrong. She’d been faithful to him, and he was the one to let her down. He leaned over and picked up the sonogram picture off the floor. The moments Elle had spent arranging pictures making them look like a happy family came crashing down around him. The little girl she had always wanted was tainted by his own fear. A pure happy thought that would have made them both happy was gone, because of him.
He pressed his hands against the door and knocked. The crying stopped. He reached for the handle and tried to turn it but it was locked. He rested his forehead against the door.
“Elle, I’m sorry,” he said.
She didn’t reply.
“I was an ass. I’ve been an ass. Elle I know you can hear me, and you don’t have to say anything. I just want you to listen.”
Thomas sat on the floor forcing his back against the door jam. He sighed heavily, his heart beginning to hurt. He knew he had driven a stake between them.
“I know I am not perfect, Elle. I screw up more times than I count,” his voiced cracked. “Do you remember our first date? How I spilled the Chicken Parmesan all over your dress, you know the one with the…uhh…red flowers on it.”
He listened for a response, but only the silence of the room beyond echoed back.
“I was so nervous then and wanted to make a good impression. Guess I must have done something right. Four years we’ve been together and not once have I ever doubted you. I always doubted myself though, afraid that I would screw up and…well look it happened.” Thomas said, the sonogram clutched in his hand.
“Never would have expected this…well not entirely just…just not this soon. Why wouldn’t you just tell me Elle? Was it because you were afraid you wouldn’t be a good mom?” he said, looking for just the right words. “Take it from me Elle, you would be a great mom, the best. Yeah, and take this from me your husband who thought you were cheating on him. Why am I such an idiot? I guess when you love someone this much you are bound to be jealous at some point for something.” he said.
Thomas settled his head against the door. What could he have hoped to say that would make her, forgive him? Every moment they had spent together now seemed stained by one mistake, one argument. The nights on the couch spent watching the last few minutes of a bad movie. The late mornings spent trying to think of ways to avoid work, hitting the snooze for the fourth time. Was it all gone? His doubts in her had driven the knife between them. He cocked his head against the door, his hands delicately holding the image of his baby, the one he hoped to know.
“You really think I would be a great mom?,” said Elle softly through the door.