Did she think about me? Did she wonder what I was thinking about her?
“You know why I have to do what I’m going to do today, right? You, more than anyone else, would understand. I didn’t use a condom. I came inside of her. If she’s…well, I have to know. It’s not that I have to see her. Or that I miss her or want her back. So much. It’s not that, Allison. I would have let her go. Any other circumstance and I would have walked away and not looked back. For you. I swear it. But I have to know.”
There was no condemnation from the grave. No judgement. No answer at all, in fact.
There never was. Because Allison was dead. Gone. And she was never coming back. No matter what I did. No matter how many times I begged for forgiveness.
It was such a stupid fight.
We were coming back from the OB/GYN. I wanted to tell the world she was pregnant, but she wanted to wait. After two previous miscarriages, she said she wasn’t telling anyone until she was at least five months along, but that seemed crazy to me. I accused her of being in denial. She accused me of not being sensitive to her feelings.
And then a truck was weaving into our lane and I didn’t react quickly enough.
I didn’t just kill my wife that day. I killed our child too.
No one knew that part. Not her parents, not my parents. I didn’t tell anyone. Only her doctor knew. But if I never saw him again, if I never looked him in the eyes again, if I never acknowledged what he knew…
Then maybe it wasn’t real.
Except it was. It was real because I knew.
“I have to know,” I whispered.
I turned my back on Allison’s grave and made my way back to the car.
I’d already stopped at the pharmacy. The white bag with the pregnancy test inside sat on the passenger seat daring me to take action.
Flowers’Apartment
She was home.It was Saturday morning, so she could have been anywhere out running errands. I was prepared to wait all day if I needed to. But I spotted her car in the parking lot and was instantly nervous, fearful and excited at the same time. I made my way up the stairs to her apartment.
The bag clutched in one hand, I knocked on her door with the other.
What if some random dude opened the door?
What if fucking Tom Daniels opened the door?
Shit. I could feel the rage building inside me already. If that happened, I was probably going to go to jail for assault today.
Would Flowers bail me out?
The door opened and I watched her facial expression go through about fifteen different variations of emotions before she settled on resigned. Almost like she knew I’d eventually show up.
“What’s in the bag?” she asked.
Not, how are you? Are you okay? Are you here because you miss me?
Bad. No. Yes.
Instead, she was focused on the bag now clutched in both my hands.
“I have to know,” I uttered, sounding probably not altogether sane. I tried again. “We had sex. Without protection. I brought a pregnancy test.”
She nodded, not quite looking at me. “That’s why you’re here.”
I was here for so many reasons. “Did you cut your hair?”
It was shorter. Just brushing her shoulders.
