CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

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BEFORE
Weston Waters
May 3, 2016

The sound of chirping birds fills my ears as I walk to my car. It's five o'clock and the sun is still prominent in the sky, casting shadows across everything in its path.

As I drive home from work, my mind wanders to Rosella; a story she told me the other day about something that happened in Clementine's classroom. Apparently her teacher is very strict about note passing, but for some reason, Clem and her friend were passing notes back and forth to each other about boys they liked. The teacher ended up catching them mid note-pass and decided to hang it up at the front of the classroom, just above the chalkboard, for everybody to see. Clementine was so embarrassed, so during recess when no one was around, she snuck back inside the classroom, tore down the note, ripped it into tiny pieces, and put the scraps in her bag. I couldn't help but laugh as Rosella recited the story, reminiscing on how I used to act when I was just a clueless fifth grader.

Just as I'm pulling into the driveway, I notice Marcia's car parked beside Cordelia's. Her husband must be off work today in order for her to have the car. When I walk through the front door, Marcia is sitting on the couch holding Emerald, singing a song that I can't quite identify. I smile as I drop my briefcase and walk over to greet them.

"Hello princess!" I beam as I sit on the couch beside them, taking Emerald into my arms. She's wearing a light blue dress, a matching headband in her little patch of hair. She's almost six months now and already her hair is getting long. Soon enough it will be down to her shoulders, beautiful blonde locks, just like her mother.
"Where's Cor?" I turn to Marcia.
"She's taking a quick shower. Should be out soon." She smiles and watches as I bounce Emerald up and down on my lap.
"It's a beautiful day." I remark.
"It is."
"I see you have the car today,"
"Yes, a friend was meeting with Steve this morning so he was able to get a ride."
I nod. "Any plans with the kids tonight?"
"Just going home to make dinner." She smiles. We both turn our heads to Emerald as she makes some sort of sound between a squeak and a giggle.
"Oh, Mr. Waters, I forgot to mention," she turns to me again. "Somebody came by looking for you earlier. A woman."
I furrow my eyebrows. "Did she leave a name?"
"Um, I believe she said her name was Rosella. I told her you were at work."
My heart plummets in my chest. I can feel the blood rushing to my ears as she speaks. I remain composed and clear my throat. "Oh, that's odd. Did she say what she needed?"
"No. Just said she was looking for you."
"Hmm, no idea," I say. "I'm sure she'll contact me if it's important." I force a smile and try to brush off the sense of unease. I should be relieved, really. She could have said anything to Marcia. But she didn't.
I hear the bedroom door open and a moment later, Cordelia walks into the living room wearing her blue robe, rustling a towel through her damp hair.
"Oh, you're home early," she says as though she wasn't expecting to see me.
"Yeah. There weren't many patients this afternoon."
She nods her head and holds the towel at her side. "Feel free to go whenever you'd like, Marcia," Cordelia smiles.
"I better get going now, actually. The kids will be wondering where dinner is." She laughs as she lifts herself up off the couch. I hoist Emerald onto my hip and follow her to the door.
"Thanks Marcia. We'll see you Wednesday."
"Goodbye, Mr. Waters. Goodbye, little one." She gives Emerald a little poke on the nose, leaving my daughter smiling and giggling.

____

The next morning on my way to work, I make a detour to Rosella's. What the hell was she thinking coming by my house? I've told her before that my place is off limits. The only reason she even knows my address is because she saw it on a mailing envelope in my car. I have no problem meeting her if she needs to see me – anywhere but my house. Cordelia could have been there. I can only imagine what would have happened if she came today instead, a Thursday, when Cordelia is working from home. Disastrous, that's what.

Cordelia has already been on edge lately, I can tell. I know she's been wondering about my frequent absences as of late, but she hasn't said a word. She feels like this is her fault; that she is the reason we're falling apart. But she's been trying to make it up to me lately. Cooking elaborate dinners, wanting to go to the amusement park, making sure to spend more time with Emerald when I'm around. I'm glad she's making an effort. I really am. But what's done is done, and nothing can change that. I can't control my feelings. I wish I could – but I can't. The feelings I used to have towards my wife simply aren't as strong as they once were, and instead, all of my thoughts and attention are directed towards Rosella.

We've been so careful. Nobody would be able to link us together in any way. Except Clementine. But Rosella has explained to her the importance of keeping this whole thing a secret. Should we ever have involved her? Sometimes I don't know. Rosella seemed so keen on me meeting her. And she is a lovely girl. I guess she didn't want to keep her a secret from me. I told her about my family, and she told me about Clementine. It has worked out fine so far. Until yesterday.

Fortunately her car is in the driveway, meaning she hasn't left for work yet. I called into the office on my way and told Carla I was stuck in traffic and would be a few minutes late. No problem, is what she always tells me. Of course it's no problem – I own the place.

I hustle up the front steps and ring the doorbell, then proceed to knock consistently. A moment later, I hear footsteps rushing to the door and it swings open, revealing a stunning-as-always Rosella, dark hair clipped up, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, holding her scrubs.

"What's going on? Did something happen?" She looks utterly shocked to see me.
When I don't answer right away, she leans her head out the door, surveying if anyone else is there, then yanks me inside by the arm and shuts the door behind us.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I ask once I'm inside.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Coming to my house yesterday! The nanny had to tell me that some woman came by looking for me."
"Oh," her face drops.
"Oh? What is oh? Why did you come by?"
She looks up at me, those vibrant blue eyes striking me again as they always do. "I'm so sorry, Wes. I needed to see you."
"Why? Did something happen with Clem?" my anger fades and is replaced with concern.
"No, it's not that,"
"Then what is it?"
She doesn't answer me. She stares down at the floor.
"What would you have done if Cordelia was there? Imagine what could have happened," I say.
Her lips part as though she's going to speak, then she closes them again.
"What's going on?" I say. "What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait?"
She looks up at me, then, and I see something in her eyes: fear.
"I'm pregnant."
The words leave her mouth, but I don't hear them. "What did you just say?"
"I'm pregnant, Wes."
"Are you sure? How do you know?" I feel as though I've been punched in the gut, the air knocked out of my lungs, my heart sinking further into my chest.
"I didn't get my period on time. At first I didn't think anything of it. But the more I thought about it, the more unusual it was. I have a very regular cycle. So I took a pregnancy test. It was positive."
"Well did you take another? Sometimes it can give a false reading."
"I don't know, Wes! I don't know what to do!" Her voice gets higher suddenly and I watch her eyes fill with tears.
"Fuck," I mutter and turn sideways, placing my fist over my mouth.
"What do we do?" she cries.
I turn back to her. "It could be wrong. The test could be wrong."
"So what should I do!?"
"We'll make a doctor's appointment. You can get checked there. They'll tell you if you're really pregnant or not."
She nods her head, wiping the tears from her eyes.
I'm so overwhelmed with emotions, rendered speechless. Anger, fear, guilt, fear, anxiety, anger, guilt, fear – playing through a loop in my brain. So many questions. What if she is pregnant? How will I hide this from Cordelia? What if I have to tell Cordelia? What about Emerald? What about Clementine? Fuck. Fuck.
I turn to her, suddenly realizing that I'm being selfish. The potential life we created is in her stomach, not mine. "I'm sorry for overreacting," I say. "About coming to the house. You were probably scared. Fuck, I can't imagine how scared you are. I'm sorry, Rose." I reach forward and bring her into my arms. She cries into my chest.
"It's okay," she says. "We'll figure this out." She pulls back and looks up at me, her blue eyes glassy with tears.
"We will. We'll figure it out." I repeat.


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