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Re: Summer Story
Two months earlier
Her period was late. She was instantly panicked. Michelle could set her clock by her menses and since she’d been getting them for the past four years, she’d not had issues with irregularity from the last three.
Her legs gave way and she sank onto the toilet. Oh God! No! She’d been careful! They’d been careful. Other than the first time, Earl always wore a condom. And she’d been on the pill faithfully for as long as they’d been together.
But then it had sank in. All it took was once. The first time on his desk, in her classroom. That’s when it had happened. All the condoms and pills in the world wasn’t going to change what had already happened. They had just been closing the gate after the horse had already bolted.
She’d gone to school that day, in a daze, just going through the motions until Mr. Simmons had to pull her aside to ask her if everything was ok. Yes, she’d told him, her manner curiously detached. Everything was fine. Would they be hooking up later? Same place and time, he’d assured her, leaving her at the foot of the stairs, unconvinced.
They had met up then, and she did not tell him then, or the day after, or the day after that. Instead, she’d allowed the idea of the baby to mushroom and idea of her and Mr. Simmons and the baby became a distinct possibility in her mind. He loved her, she knew it. She wasn’t one of those girls who needed to be told. She could read him. She could see it in his eyes. They would be a natural progression. He’d leave his empty marriage and they would be together: her, the baby and Mr. Simmons. A house full of passion. A house just… full.
When she’d given him her poorly worded ultimatum that day at the motel, she’d known he’d accept. He would say ‘What had taken you so long?’ and she’d tell him, ‘Our baby.’ And he’d stare at her in astonishment before gathering her to him tightly and then releasing her to hold her gently, tenderly. After all, she was pregnant and both her and the baby was a precious bundle.
But it hadn’t gone like that. And it had all changed. She sacrificed her pride in an effort to bring them back to the place that once was, but it wasn’t enough. They couldn’t make it. And in feeling they had nothing to lose, she began to take more risks.
Michelle started calling him at home. At first, she’d hang up the phone if his kids answered or if his wife, she of the nasal tone, answered. Earl never mentioned these calls to Michelle and they met up and screwed like it wasn’t happening. Maybe he didn’t know and Michelle wanted him to. So she started calling the house and asking for him, calling when she knew he wouldn’t be there.
“May I speak with Mr. Simmons?” she’d ask the kids.
“Sorry, Dad’s not here,” they’d say.
Before long, that was not enough, even as he said nothing to her about the calls, not once while he drove into her, or bit her small breasts.
So the calls changed.
“May I speak with Earl?”
“Sorry Dad’s not here.”
“When will he be there?” she’d ask, knowing he was in the motel room, sleeping off her effect on him.
“Mom! Someone’s on the phone for Dad!”
“May I speak with Earl, please.”
“Who’s this?”
“I’ll call back.”
Soon the children no longer picked up her calls. Just the nasally voiced, “Who’re you? What do you want with my husband?”
And always, Michelle’s reply would be, “I’ll call back.”
Earl had begun to spend less time with her. His wife had things to do, activities that involved her, the children or them all together. He thought it was a just a phase his wife was going through. He was missing Michelle, he’d tell her. And their coming together would be even more intense because of it. And she just knew, that he needed her and their baby.
So she called one day, while he sat at the dinner table with his family. Mrs. Simmons answered.
“May I speak with Earl please?”
“Why? Who’re you? Why do you keep calling him? What do you want with my husband?”
Michelle could hear him ask in the background.
She said, “I can hear him. I need him. I need to talk to him.”
Mrs. Simmons voice began to climb rapidly, her breathing harsh into the phone, her voice sounding almost asphyxiating. “What do you mean you need him? Who the [censored] are you?”
And the phone clattered and banged. There were sounds of cloth and skin and thuds. There were muted disjointed words, their tones unmistakable. And Michelle had held the phone and waited, at peace.
“Who is this?” he’d barked.
“It’s only me,” she’d said softly.
“Jesus,” he’d said and nothing more.
They’d held the phone like that for the longest time. Neither saying anything: one at peace, the other staring at the end of his world.
“It’s ok,” she’d whispered finally. “It’ll be ok. I know. Trust me.” Michelle hung up the phone.
It was a Sunday and she’d sat by the window, ready. Her mother cackled at something funny coming from the old black & white matinee she watched. Michelle stared out at the bleakness of the gray evening. A smile on contentment played about her lips. The day may be gray and overcast, but her life was sunny and bright. He was coming. She just knew it.
Two months earlier
Her period was late. She was instantly panicked. Michelle could set her clock by her menses and since she’d been getting them for the past four years, she’d not had issues with irregularity from the last three.
Her legs gave way and she sank onto the toilet. Oh God! No! She’d been careful! They’d been careful. Other than the first time, Earl always wore a condom. And she’d been on the pill faithfully for as long as they’d been together.
But then it had sank in. All it took was once. The first time on his desk, in her classroom. That’s when it had happened. All the condoms and pills in the world wasn’t going to change what had already happened. They had just been closing the gate after the horse had already bolted.
She’d gone to school that day, in a daze, just going through the motions until Mr. Simmons had to pull her aside to ask her if everything was ok. Yes, she’d told him, her manner curiously detached. Everything was fine. Would they be hooking up later? Same place and time, he’d assured her, leaving her at the foot of the stairs, unconvinced.
They had met up then, and she did not tell him then, or the day after, or the day after that. Instead, she’d allowed the idea of the baby to mushroom and idea of her and Mr. Simmons and the baby became a distinct possibility in her mind. He loved her, she knew it. She wasn’t one of those girls who needed to be told. She could read him. She could see it in his eyes. They would be a natural progression. He’d leave his empty marriage and they would be together: her, the baby and Mr. Simmons. A house full of passion. A house just… full.
When she’d given him her poorly worded ultimatum that day at the motel, she’d known he’d accept. He would say ‘What had taken you so long?’ and she’d tell him, ‘Our baby.’ And he’d stare at her in astonishment before gathering her to him tightly and then releasing her to hold her gently, tenderly. After all, she was pregnant and both her and the baby was a precious bundle.
But it hadn’t gone like that. And it had all changed. She sacrificed her pride in an effort to bring them back to the place that once was, but it wasn’t enough. They couldn’t make it. And in feeling they had nothing to lose, she began to take more risks.
Michelle started calling him at home. At first, she’d hang up the phone if his kids answered or if his wife, she of the nasal tone, answered. Earl never mentioned these calls to Michelle and they met up and screwed like it wasn’t happening. Maybe he didn’t know and Michelle wanted him to. So she started calling the house and asking for him, calling when she knew he wouldn’t be there.
“May I speak with Mr. Simmons?” she’d ask the kids.
“Sorry, Dad’s not here,” they’d say.
Before long, that was not enough, even as he said nothing to her about the calls, not once while he drove into her, or bit her small breasts.
So the calls changed.
“May I speak with Earl?”
“Sorry Dad’s not here.”
“When will he be there?” she’d ask, knowing he was in the motel room, sleeping off her effect on him.
“Mom! Someone’s on the phone for Dad!”
“May I speak with Earl, please.”
“Who’s this?”
“I’ll call back.”
Soon the children no longer picked up her calls. Just the nasally voiced, “Who’re you? What do you want with my husband?”
And always, Michelle’s reply would be, “I’ll call back.”
Earl had begun to spend less time with her. His wife had things to do, activities that involved her, the children or them all together. He thought it was a just a phase his wife was going through. He was missing Michelle, he’d tell her. And their coming together would be even more intense because of it. And she just knew, that he needed her and their baby.
So she called one day, while he sat at the dinner table with his family. Mrs. Simmons answered.
“May I speak with Earl please?”
“Why? Who’re you? Why do you keep calling him? What do you want with my husband?”
Michelle could hear him ask in the background.
She said, “I can hear him. I need him. I need to talk to him.”
Mrs. Simmons voice began to climb rapidly, her breathing harsh into the phone, her voice sounding almost asphyxiating. “What do you mean you need him? Who the [censored] are you?”
And the phone clattered and banged. There were sounds of cloth and skin and thuds. There were muted disjointed words, their tones unmistakable. And Michelle had held the phone and waited, at peace.
“Who is this?” he’d barked.
“It’s only me,” she’d said softly.
“Jesus,” he’d said and nothing more.
They’d held the phone like that for the longest time. Neither saying anything: one at peace, the other staring at the end of his world.
“It’s ok,” she’d whispered finally. “It’ll be ok. I know. Trust me.” Michelle hung up the phone.
It was a Sunday and she’d sat by the window, ready. Her mother cackled at something funny coming from the old black & white matinee she watched. Michelle stared out at the bleakness of the gray evening. A smile on contentment played about her lips. The day may be gray and overcast, but her life was sunny and bright. He was coming. She just knew it.
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