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The Womb

David Meuel

    On the outside, their home looked like nearly all the other homes on their block in Santa Clara: one-story, small, and plain with a patch of lawn in front, a cement path next to it, and a short driveway next to that where two economy cars were parked. It fit right in, Nancy always said.
    Inside, the signs of raising two boys, ages six and eight, were all about. In the cramped living room, were a fleet of yellow dump trucks and a sea of loose pirate Legos. Laced in between were two dirty soccer jerseys, a drawing pad, and a set of colored pencils. And on the refrigerator in the kitchen next to a picture of Jesus were photos of the boys on vacations, in soccer uniforms, with grandparents, and of course with Nancy and Mark.
    Nancy had just finished saying prayers with the boys and putting them to bed. She was thirty-three, but her extra weight and the long lines under her eyes made her look older.
    As she came into the hall, Mark, who was about the same age but much slimmer and fitter, asked if she had a minute.
    “Can this wait?” she said. She had so many things to do—lunches to pack, dishes to do, toys to pick up, and bills to pay. Between her job and managing this house there was always so much to do. It wouldn’t hurt if Mark did more too she often thought. He made more money than she did. And he often had to travel for work. But he could still help out more.
    “No, it can’t wait,” Mark said, his voice on edge.
    His face seemed pale. “Are you sick?” she said.
    “No—no, I’m not.”
    “You should eat more. You’re always dieting, and you’re as thin as a rail.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Would you like me to get you some chicken? I have a couple of nice breasts in the refrigerator. I’ve made some apple pie too.”
    “No, I’m fine. But I would like you to sit down.”
    “Okay,” she said, wondering what the big news was. And, no matter what he said, he still didn’t look well. She set aside some of the toys on the cluttered couch and sat.
    Mark pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of her.
    “Well?” she said.
    “I have to tell you what’s going on.” His face suddenly turned to bright pink, and his hands were shaking. “I’ve been seeing another—another man for about a year now.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me. I’ve been seeing a man.”
    “Another man?”
    “Yes.”
    “Seeing him? What are you saying?”
    “I’m saying that I’m in love with him.”
    “What?”
    “Do I have to say everything twice?” Mark said sharply. Then, after a moment, he spoke slowly again: “I’ve been seeing a man. It’s been about a year now. I’m in love with him. I’m moving out tonight to be with him. And we’ll need to get a divorce.”
    Nancy’s face turned red, and she sat silently for a long time.
    “Would you say something?” Mark said. “It would be easier if you said something.”
    “I think I need a drink.”
    “All right.”
    “Do you want one?” she said.
    “Yes, I think we both need one.”
    Together they walked into the kitchen and picked out a bottle of red wine. He opened it and poured the drinks. Then they returned to their places in the living room.
    “I’m really sorry about this,” he said. “I know that it’s horrible for you, and I know that it’s going to change everything.”
    “Who’s this man?” Nancy said.
    “His name is Edward. He’s an engineer in another department at work.”
    “And you love him?”
    “Yes.”
    “But you’re married.”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re supposed to be this loving husband and father. You’re supposed to be a—a heterosexual.”
    “Yes.”
    “So what’s the story?”
    “About Edward?”
    “No. About you.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “So is this Edward the first man you’ve had sex with?”
    “Don’t call him ‘this Edward.’”
    “Okay. So is Edward the first man you’ve had sex with?”
    Mark hesitated for a moment and then said, “No.”
    “So there were others?”
    “Yes.”
    “During our marriage?”
    “Yes.”
    “How many?”
    He blushed. “Maybe a couple of dozen.”
    “My God, Mark!”
    “Maybe not that many. I would have to think.”
    “And before? You said there was no one before we got married.”
    “That’s right. There were no women.”
    “But there were men?”
    “Yes.”
    “My God, Mark, did you ever think that it might not be a good idea to get married?”
    “Yes.”
    “But?”
    “We were so young then. I thought I could change. I thought that, if we were really in love, you could change me.”
    “And I guess that that didn’t happen.”
    “No.”
    Again they were silent.
    “So you knew,” she said finally, “that you preferred men before we were married.”
    “Yes.”
    “And you still wanted to get married?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then we got married.”
    “Yes.”
    “And you couldn’t change.”
    “No.”
    “I couldn’t change you.”
    “No”
    “And you’ve been cheating on me all during our marriage.”
    “I wasn’t cheating. Cheating would be seeing other women. I never cheated on you.”
    “What?”
    “I never cheated on you,” he said firmly.
    “That is such complete and utter garbage.”
    “There never was another woman.”
    “Are you crazy? You were having sex with other people—other human beings.” Her eyes opened wider. “My God, Mark, I hope you used condoms.”
    “Yes. Yes, I did.”
    “Always?”
    “Almost always.
    “My God, Mark, we both have to get blood tests. We have to do that right away.”
    “All right, we’ll do it.”
    Both sat in silence some more and sipped their drinks.
    “So why did you marry me?” she said after a long sip.
    “I liked you. You were Catholic. I wanted to have children.”
    “You wanted to have children?” She paused. “So what does that make me in all of this?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, what am I? Am I your wife?” she said, beginning to cry. “Or am I just a—a womb?”
    “Don’t say that. It’s more complicated than that.”
    “This is outrageous,” she said, her voice now loud and trembling. Quickly, she took a long, awkward gulp of her wine and wiped away her tears.
    “Be quiet,” he said softly and firmly. “Let’s not disturb the children.”
    “Outrageous,” she said, her voice quieter but seething.
    “I married you to have a family,” he said. “That included you, remember? I wanted to go to Mass together on Sundays and holy days; see our kids baptized, confirmed, married; go to back-to-school night; be normal.” He took a long sip of his wine. “You have no idea what it’s been like for me.”
    “Apparently not,” she said, her volume increasing again.
    “Don’t get like this, Nancy.”
    “Apparently, I don’t know a thing about the man I’ve been married to for eleven years,” her voice still loud. “Nothing about us has been real.”
    “The boys are,” he said softly. He finished the wine in his glass. “I need some more.”
    “Were you ever attracted to me? Did you ever feel anything for me?”
    “Of course I did. It’s complicated. You just don’t get it.”
    “I need another glass too,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
    Mark gave her his glass, and she went to the kitchen and poured another glass for each of them. She brought the glasses back to the living room, and they drank silently for a minute or so.
    “I’m going to leave soon,” he said. “Edward is expecting me.”
    “There’s so much more that I need to know,” she said. “You can’t just drop this on me and then flit out the door like you’re going to the car wash.”
    “You don’t need to say ‘flit.’”
    “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want to say!”
    “Give me some dignity here.”
    “Give you some dignity?”
    Another silence.
    “I’ll call tomorrow, and we can talk some more then,” he said.
    He stood up and brought his wine glass into the kitchen. She followed him in.
    “Are you sure you don’t want any chicken?” she said.
    “Yes, I’m sure.”
    “Speaking of tomorrow, what am I supposed to tell the boys when they wake up?”
    “Say that I’m away on business—that I’ve been called away.”
    “Tell them the same lie you always told me, is that it?”
    He blushed. “Yes.”
    “We’re going to have to tell the kids sometime. The truth, that is.”
    “Yes, we will.”
    “How do you propose we do that?”
    “I don’t know, Nancy.”
    “Eventually, they are going to have to learn what’s really going on with dear old dad.”
    “Enough, Nancy. Please. Enough.”
    “Okay,” she said at last.
    “Now, I really need to go.”
    “Okay.”
    He went to their bedroom. She followed and watched as he filled two suitcases and a coat bag with clothes from his dresser and his closet.
    Right before he left, he stopped at the front door. “I am sorry about everything,” he said. “You never deserved this.”
    She looked at him silently.
    “I’ll call tomorrow, and we can talk some more,” he said. “And, if it will make you feel any better, I’ll get a blood test too.”
    “Thanks.”
    He picked up his things, walked out the door, and closed it behind him without looking back.
    A few seconds later, she heard his car start, back out of the driveway, and head off.
    A few seconds after that, she opened the door, walked a couple of steps down the front path, and looked at the empty spot in the driveway where Mark’s car had just been parked.
    Then she went back inside, walked into the kitchen, took one of the chicken breasts out of the refrigerator, cut a large piece of apple pie, refilled her wine glass, sat down, and began to eat.

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