He Got His Coworker Pregnant, I Took Everything

I didn’t confront him. I just stopped being convenient.

I brought his favorite Thai food to his apartment on a Friday night. I never made it through the door. I stood outside on the walkway and listened through the patio door while a woman named Kallie told my boyfriend of nine years that she was three months pregnant with his baby.

Kirk Reed didn’t know I was there. He didn’t know I heard him say he was going to "handle things" with me.

He didn’t know I drove home and sat in my driveway and deleted every one of his calls without answering.

He thought I was the same woman who turned down promotions because he said they’d be hard on us.

The same woman who stopped traveling with her best friend because he felt left out.

The same woman who put five hundred dollars a month into a savings account he’d been draining for a year and a half.

He was right about one thing. I am that woman. I just stopped being her for him.

I called a lawyer. I pulled the bank statements. I printed the credit card charges. Hotels I never stayed in. Restaurants I never visited. A bracelet from a jewelry store charged to a card with my name on it. For her. On Valentine’s Day.

Then there’s Ross Hughes. County Archives Specialist.

Works across the street from City Hall. Restores old books with cotton gloves and builds furniture with his father on weekends.

He remembered how I take my coffee after one conversation.

He carried cream and sugar in his pocket just in case.

He kissed me on my front porch after a history festival and didn’t ask for anything in return. That’s the kind of man he is.

Kirk said I’d never do better than nine years together. My savings account, my career, and my Sunday mornings say otherwise.