I had just had an abortion because I didn’t know if the baby was my husband, Robert’s, or my lover, Derrick’s. And after having gone through the traumatic procedure, here I was, standing at Derrick’s door, ready to end our May-December relationship once and for all.
When Derrick opened the door, the look on his face was shock. I must have looked like hell. He grabbed my hand and walked me to the living room. Then he gave me tissues and brought me a glass of water with lemon. I took a sip and set it down. I looked up at him and pointed at the wine cellar. He was surprised at my request, but hurriedly went to get me a glass.
I wasn’t sure how I would break the news to him. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what story I would give him. Did I want to tell him the truth or would I tell him a lie? I was unsure if I needed to set myself free or if I should I consider his feelings. I knew he wanted me to keep the baby and leave my husband so we could raise a family together.
When he came back from the kitchen with the bottle of wine, he asked me if I was sure. When I nodded my head in approval, he handed me the glass. I had been advised not to drink so shortly after the procedure, but I didn’t care. I downed the glass of wine and asked for another.
“Tell me what happened. Did you leave him?” he asked concerned.
“No,” I replied bluntly. When he didn’t start moving to the kitchen, I snapped. “Wine, please!”
“No, you are pregnant and you shouldn’t—”
“Not anymore. I need more wine please,” I said. I kept interrupting his words, asking for wine. “When you give me what I want, I’ll tell you what happened.”
When he came back with the second glass of wine, I downed that one as well and asked for more. He said he wasn’t giving me anymore and I grabbed the glass and stood up to pour it myself. When I downed that third one and started pouring another, he rushed to the kitchen and took the bottle away from me. When I tried to take the bottle back, he purposely broke it on the counter. The wine was everywhere. The red gush of wine flooded the counter and it reminded me of blood and I began to cry. He held me in his arms and I couldn’t stop crying. I knew my life as I knew it was over.
In killing my baby, I had ultimately made a choice to move on from the life I knew. For me, the choice was easy. On the one hand, I could keep the baby and figure out which man I wanted to hurt in my web of lies, or two, I could kill my baby and start over, leaving both men behind. Because I could not choose Derrick as my mate for life, and because I could not lie to my husband, I was left with no choice but to do the unthinkable—leave them both.
It was harder than I thought. As I stood there wrapped in his arms, I thought of all the years behind us. It all started that day at the bar I worked in. He was an old man in a suit with just the right tip to spark an interest in my heart. I fell hard for him and thought I would be marrying him someday. I had been willing to give up everything just to be with him, until I realized that he was married. In a moment of weakness, I chose to keep seeing him and then it was history. Now, many years older, I was a broken soul with a failed marriage who had just killed her only baby.
Now it was time to face the music. I had to say goodbye to Derrick…