News Chapter 3
While trying to muster the courage to finally tell him about their unborn child, he tries to rekindle their old romance.
He was a walking contradiction. What was good for the goose was never good for the gander. He lived in a world where he never had to treat others as he would like to be treated. He was used to being inconsiderate and obnoxious and being loved anyway. However, right before I met him, some girl turned the tables on him, and showed him what it was like to be the one treated like shit. It only served to make him more introverted. I spent countless days trying to do things to reverse this, but he only turned further in.
Eventually, I gave up trying to fix him and left him as he was. Unfortunately, I conceived before I gave up. Maybe this child was a last-ditch effort on God's behalf to turn him into a decent human being worthy of breathing the same air I breathe. Or maybe, as his mother told me, it was an unfortunate way for a new addition to come about.
"You want me to help you clean that up?" I asked him as he struggled with this ice cream shop's pathetic napkins which thus far hadn't put a dent in the mess he had made. If there was anything Mega about that cone it was the sticky puddle it had left on the 1950's-style table. He said nothing, but tossed me some napkins. I sopped up as much as I could, and finally walked over to the counter and asked for a wet cloth. After that, clean-up went much smoother.
I had clearly stirred his emotions. I found myself amused, since it was the first emotion I had seen out of him in a while, unless apathy is an emotion. This time six months ago, or a year ago, I would have been apologizing and trying to get him to say something. But that day, I just stood there. I was still waiting for a response, after all.
"How long are you going to be in town?"
It wasn't quite the response I was looking for, but it would do enough to get me talking. I told him I was in town for three more days. He smiled and said, "Let's go to the beach."
The "beach" in San Francisco he was referring to is a little strip of sand to the southwest of Pier 39. On one side you can watch the Polar Bears and windsurfers, and on the other you can watch the fog cover and uncover the Golden Gate. We rode the cable car in silence, and when we got to the beach, I continued the silence by choosing to stare at the Bridge. He surprised me for the second time that day by breaking the silence. "You know, when the designer proposed the plans for the bridge, he got a lot of criticism because people thought it was too tall." I smiled and said, "Yeah, they were scared planes would crash into it. It's funny how man fears the very things he dreams up."
I went silent again. He knew I was still looking for a response. He took a ragged breath and started to speak. "I know I treated you very badly. I don't know why I did it. You're right, you are the only person who gave a damn about me and I took out all my frustration on you. I shouldn't have done that, and I hope one day you will be able to forgive me, and maybe give me another chance. You would make a great wife, and a great mom."
It was like he stabbed me. I felt the tears well up and tried to hold them back. But just then, my baby kicked. It was too much. It was the first semi-honest thing I had heard come out of his mouth in over a year, and to sit there on the beach and hear it while our unborn son underwent his first chocolate-induced energy spell was more than I could take. I reluctantly let the tears roll down my face.
He hadn't touched me since the hug in the hotel lobby. But it did not feel abnormal when he took me in his arms and held me while I sobbed and sputtered like a little child. He lifted my chin up and wiped the tears from my face. The look in his eyes was the first glimpse of genuine feeling I had seen in them since we first met so long ago.
I was preparing myself to tell him about his son when he kissed me.
Eventually, I gave up trying to fix him and left him as he was. Unfortunately, I conceived before I gave up. Maybe this child was a last-ditch effort on God's behalf to turn him into a decent human being worthy of breathing the same air I breathe. Or maybe, as his mother told me, it was an unfortunate way for a new addition to come about.
"You want me to help you clean that up?" I asked him as he struggled with this ice cream shop's pathetic napkins which thus far hadn't put a dent in the mess he had made. If there was anything Mega about that cone it was the sticky puddle it had left on the 1950's-style table. He said nothing, but tossed me some napkins. I sopped up as much as I could, and finally walked over to the counter and asked for a wet cloth. After that, clean-up went much smoother.
I had clearly stirred his emotions. I found myself amused, since it was the first emotion I had seen out of him in a while, unless apathy is an emotion. This time six months ago, or a year ago, I would have been apologizing and trying to get him to say something. But that day, I just stood there. I was still waiting for a response, after all.
"How long are you going to be in town?"
It wasn't quite the response I was looking for, but it would do enough to get me talking. I told him I was in town for three more days. He smiled and said, "Let's go to the beach."
The "beach" in San Francisco he was referring to is a little strip of sand to the southwest of Pier 39. On one side you can watch the Polar Bears and windsurfers, and on the other you can watch the fog cover and uncover the Golden Gate. We rode the cable car in silence, and when we got to the beach, I continued the silence by choosing to stare at the Bridge. He surprised me for the second time that day by breaking the silence. "You know, when the designer proposed the plans for the bridge, he got a lot of criticism because people thought it was too tall." I smiled and said, "Yeah, they were scared planes would crash into it. It's funny how man fears the very things he dreams up."
I went silent again. He knew I was still looking for a response. He took a ragged breath and started to speak. "I know I treated you very badly. I don't know why I did it. You're right, you are the only person who gave a damn about me and I took out all my frustration on you. I shouldn't have done that, and I hope one day you will be able to forgive me, and maybe give me another chance. You would make a great wife, and a great mom."
It was like he stabbed me. I felt the tears well up and tried to hold them back. But just then, my baby kicked. It was too much. It was the first semi-honest thing I had heard come out of his mouth in over a year, and to sit there on the beach and hear it while our unborn son underwent his first chocolate-induced energy spell was more than I could take. I reluctantly let the tears roll down my face.
He hadn't touched me since the hug in the hotel lobby. But it did not feel abnormal when he took me in his arms and held me while I sobbed and sputtered like a little child. He lifted my chin up and wiped the tears from my face. The look in his eyes was the first glimpse of genuine feeling I had seen in them since we first met so long ago.
I was preparing myself to tell him about his son when he kissed me.
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