Laura worked from home, so I knew she’d get our kid, Jackson, ready for school and out the door before returning to bed. Before logging into work, she would read a novel and drink her morning tea. I spent the day reviewing marketing ideas and listening to presentations, all the while thinking of baby names for the little one we’d meet in a few months. But as the office clock passed two, my phone vibrated insistently. Looking at the screen, I noticed my son’s name flashing. I was in the middle of a meeting, so I had no choice but to silence his phone call.
Knowing Jackson, he was probably wondering if he could go out after school. He and his buddies had discovered the delights of bowling, and they frequently tried to talk their way into after-school activities.When my phone lit up a second time, a knot knotted in my stomach; urgency flowed through the text Jackson sent seconds after I hushed his second call. Dad, please come home! It is about Mom! I am afraid. Panic, raw and unfiltered, flowed through me. Excusing myself from the conference, I dashed to the parking lot, my fingers quivering as I phoned my son’s number.
However, my call to Jackson went unanswered. I contacted my wife next, but she responded with the same eerie stillness. With my pulse thumping against my chest, I pressed the pedal, my mind spinning with terrifying possibilities.Every red light was a tortuous wait, and every slow driver tested my fading temper. I was imagining the worse. Laura had been involved in some type of mishap. That a pool of blood had formed in the kitchen or bathroom.
My breath caught when I turned onto our street and saw my mother standing on the porch, her face pale. She stood there, her fists gripping and loosening every few seconds. “What on earth is going on?” I asked. “Is Laura okay?” “I’m so sorry, Steve,” she continued, her voice quivering and the ground slipping way beneath me. “What? No! What happened? Is this the baby? “Tell me, Mom!” My mother was perplexed for a time, until her next remarks touched a new, unexpected chord. Her eyes met mine, filled with anguish, and I knew whatever news came next would not be good.
“No, darling,” she replied. “She is fine!” “Then why did you apologize?” I inquired, wondering why I was still standing on the porch instead of hurrying inside to see my wife. However, something about my mother’s entire aura made me nervous. I set down my briefcase at my feet, waiting for her to say anything.
“I apologized because I didn’t want to be the one to tell you,” she told me. “But Laura has been cheating on you.” The world ceased to spin. The betrayal cut through the shock. It turned out that my mother had returned home to use our restroom.
“My building doesn’t have any water, and I just wanted to come over and shower,” she went on to say. “I came in, and there she was with him.” When my mother stepped in, Laura was on the couch with the man she was having an affair with. My mother couldn’t let him go; she wanted him to be there when I arrived home.As I pushed past her into the home, I felt a rush of rage and misery coursing through me. The scene in front of me—a scruffy and awkward man attempting to escape my gaze—was like a bizarre nightmare.
“Who are you?” My voice was a deep snarl aimed at the guy in my living room. He began to speak, but I couldn’t hear him because the blood was rushing in my ears. Then she emerged. Laura. My wife. Her face was ashen, her eyes welling with tears. She reached out to me, a move that was once so familiar but now feels so alien. “Steve,” she whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you like this.” “Sorry?” My laughing came out harsh and empty. “You destroy our family, and you’re sorry?”The room was immediately filled with the sound of our son crying, his body quivering in the living room doorway.
Seeing him, a witness to our failing life, cut through my rage and replaced it with tremendous sadness. “Come here, buddy,” I whispered quietly, reaching out to hold him. “Why, Mom?” he inquired. “Why did you do it?” Jackson’s voice was muffled against my shirt, his question basic but full of perplexity and hurt. It came out that he had walked in as my mother was confronting Laura, and his first reaction was that something had occurred to Laura because she was crying. He wanted to protect her. But then, his grandmother took him into the kitchen and prepared him a sandwich while telling him the truth.Laura knelt beside us, her hand stretching out, but I drew him close to me.
“Sometimes, people make terrible mistakes,” she remarked, her voice breaking. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you both.” “But it does mean that things can’t stay the same,” I said gently, truth setting in. I couldn’t believe it; my wife had cheated on me. It made me question everything, even Laura’s pregnancy and the baby’s paternity. Laura stretched out to me while we sat on the couch. She talked about pledges and wanting to make things right. But I didn’t see how we could go through it and be okay.
I wanted Jackson to live in a household with two parents who loved and trusted one other, but after this, I couldn’t see a way forward. Later that evening, I took Jackson out to supper. We needed to leave our house and the unpleasant atmosphere that had taken hold. We needed a break. “Will you move out?” he inquired as he ate his burger. “No,” I assured him. “Mom and I need to figure some things out, sure, but I’m not going anywhere.” “I thought Mom wasn’t okay,” he said. “When I got home from school, Gran was trying to pull Mom out of the bathroom – she kept calling, but Mom continued crying. I didn’t realize there was another man in the house.” “Where was he?” I asked, cracking open a drink.\
“He was sitting on your bed, or so Gran told me,” Jackson explained. After dinner, we didn’t want to go. There was a disconnection between our house and the reality of the situation. But I was grateful to have Jackson beside me. Laura was sitting on the couch biting her nails when I arrived home later that night, as she always did when she was stressed. “What now?” she inquired. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make things right.” She moved the book next to her and patted the couch.
“I think only time will decide that,” that’s what I said. “But I need you to tell me the truth — is the baby mine?”
Laura closed her eyes and took a long breath, barely managing her nervousness. I could feel it bubbling off her skin and filling the room.”I’m not sure,” she muttered. Laura chose to attend to therapy in the coming weeks because she wanted to understand why she was acting out. “I didn’t think I’d be the one to do this,” she added as she prepared us mugs of tea. “But you did,” I replied.Laura nodded. “I’m going to stick around until the baby is born,” that’s what I said. “And once we do a DNA test, we can decide on our marriage.” I’m not sure what will happen next, but I know I’m not ready for the reality of that exam.
