THE END
Somewhere on the way to the natural grocery store, my good mood started to fade. I couldn’t figure out why. The sun was shining, the sky a cloudless blue. It was a perfect seventy-something degrees outside. I’d nailed the account—we’d even shook on it. Kate and I had a wonderful time last night . . . and this morning. Sure, she was being weird, but she’d been acting weird ever since she found out she was preggers. Everything was fine. More than fine—my baby mama was bat-shit crazy in love with me. I started a smile that couldn’t quite turn over.
Why did I get the feeling something was wrong?
Come to think of it, it was the first time she’d actually said the words out loud, although I already knew it. My foot depressed the accelerator. I realized she hadn’t really looked at me when she’d said it. I’d dismissed it as guilt. Yunno, technically she was still married. But come to think of it, she hadn’t really looked me in the eyes for more than a second all morning . More evidence of weirdness, since she’d pretty much been stalking me with her eyes for the better part of three days. My stomach started to feel hollow, even though I’d just filled it with a couple of bear claws at my morning meeting.
I put away my business mental notes to focus on that funny feeling I had. Without really thinking of why, I turned on the blinker, maneuvered into the turning lane, and flipped a U at a red light. Stupid. I was being stupid for no reason. She was just emotional—more emotional than usual for sure, but that was to be expected; we were expecting a baby.
I snapped off the upbeat tune I’d been listening to and sped up, remembering her thanking me for trying to rescue her. I’d been so focused on the rescue part, that I’d completely overlooked the word that came before it. And then she’d thanked me for the best two months of her life.
Holy shit.
I ran through a yellow light that was perhaps a bit more orange. Sped down the mid-morning streets, bypassing late commuters. Careened around the corner at the landscaped brick entrance of our neighborhood. My coffee and bear claw threatened to come back up. I had to keep it together. I’m sure I was wrong. I was just being paranoid because things were going too good, yunno? Kate and I were building a future together. We were no longer in the red. I’d just landed a big account. Bob had agreed to discuss renovations on the garage.
I mean she just went down on me like an hour and some change ago. My dick was still cooling off. And then she even asked for a hickey. One last hickey.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I swiped my hand over my face and drove as fast as I dared down a residential street with strolling nannies with babies and Nanas with leashed doggies. I zoomed past Bob’s Chevy and Ruthie’s Buick, parked in their usual spots in the driveway. They were still home. That meant . . . absolutely diddly squat. My heart gave a weird lurch.
I skidded to a stop in the middle of the alley, not bothering to land on my strip of gravel that doubled as my driveway. Got out already bellowing, “Kate!” I took the stairs three then four at a time, which winded me like I’d been running a marathon earlier. I realized why: I was hyperventilating.
The door was unlocked—could’ve meant anything. She often left it unlocked, one of her worst habits. I slammed it back, half expecting her to look up from the bed and jump. I saw the bed was already made—seemed normal. Kate was a neat person, one of her best habits.
“Kate!” I thrust myself into the bathroom, even though the light was off and the door was ajar. I even pulled back the shower curtain, like she was playing hide-and-seek or something.
“Kaaaaate!” It sounded all wretched because my heart was in my throat.
Feeling a distinct feeling of déjà vu, I ran to check the closet—I couldn’t tell if anything was gone. I searched around for evidence and came up with the new sneakers she insisted on paying for last week. Not on a jog then.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
In the garden? I bolted to the window and yanked back the curtain. Nothing but a bunch of plants drinking in the late morning sun. She was probably just in the big house with Ruthie and Bob.
I was running back out the door when I saw it—lying silent and ominous as a hand grenade. A manila envelope. With my name scribbled haphazardly across a folded sheet of notebook paper. My stomach plummeted. Sick dread was already moving my unbalanced breakfast around in roiling waves. I swiped my hand across my mouth, working my fingers back and forth against my lips. It was just going to say I went to St. Mary’s to light a new candle for our little guy . . . or girl. Be back soon. XO Baby Mama. Or something cutesy like that.
I drew in a deep breath and unfolded the notebook paper. Skimmed the one sentence message, and slid to the floor.
I’m sorry—it’s his .