Karin Baker

Karin collapsed next to me, breathing hard and shaking slightly. As I caught my breath I stared up at the ceiling. I had entered my refractory mode, that period of time right after orgasm when the male brain sobers up to the extreme and everything comes into sharp focus. Like the poison from a dart fired into my jugular vein, a disgusting feeling flushed through my body as I realized that I had just slept with another man's wife. I was an adulterer.

This was too much to take lying down, so I got up and paced about the room. As I walked back and forth I kept shooting glances at Karin, who just laid there motionless. Neither of us spoke a word. For want of something to do I wandered into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. I don't know what I expected to accomplish by this, and of course it did nothing. I sat down at the edge of the bathtub, head in my hands, trying to come to grips with a situation that after each second revealed more of its enormity.

Without warning Karin came in. She sat down on the toilet and began relieving herself. The sound of her piss as it hit the water below filled the bathroom; it was all that I could hear. I'll never forget that sound, nor the picture that I got as I lifted my head to look at her.

She looked like a fallen warrior, slouched over on the toilet seat, tears running down her cheek. She wiped mechanically and got up without flushing. Slowly I got up myself and made it back into the bedroom, where I saw that she had gotten back into bed. I followed suit. I didn't know what was customary, so I did what came naturally. I reached over and embraced her. She didn't resist, but simply pushed back into me. We stayed like that for a long time, until by and by each of us drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

I was unsurprised when I woke up alone the next morning, my only companion a piece of folded paper laying on the pillow where Karin had rested her head the night before. There was a pleasing sort of pattern on it, as a ray of sunlight had found its way around the heavy drapes and sauntered over for illumination. It was early yet, barely 7:30.

I was too restless to stay in bed, yet without enough energy to take a shower and get dressed. So I paced around the room like I had the night before, stopping occasionally to sit down and stare at the wall. I hadn't enough courage yet to read the note.

Finally my stomach started protesting, and I knew that I had to appease it. I got dressed and wandered over to a Denny's on the other side of the road, where I ordered some French toast and eggs-over-easy. The food and early morning din worked wonders on my spirits, and I quickly switched from self-wallowing mode to analytical mode.

I reviewed the entire situation. Bill was a prick, a class A asshole. This much was not up for dispute, and I found it to be soothing knowledge. The more I thought about him, the better I felt about what had happened. He's probably cheated on her loads of times, I reassured myself. Then my thoughts shifted to Karin. I knew as soon as I had woken up that she was long gone. Where to, I had no idea. In my head I turned over some theories but couldn't reach any concrete conclusions. In the end I simply hoped that she would start everything over again; I hoped that wherever she was, she was somehow putting all of this shit behind her.

A voice disrupted my meditations.

"Would you like some more coffee?"

I nodded in approval and the waitress refilled my cup. As I watched the steaming black liquid flow I had a desire that I hadn't felt in years.

"You know what? I think I'll take this coffee to go," I said.

"Sure thing."

She disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later with a Styrofoam cup, into which I clumsily transferred the coffee.

Outside it was another gorgeous day. I took my time walking back to the motel, taking a detour to a gas station down the road to pick up a pack of cigarettes. I stood outside my room, sipping the coffee and savoring the burning tobacco. When I had finished the last drop, and had discarded my third cigarette, I decided that it was time to read that note.

It was extremely sparse, only two words buried beneath three one hundred dollar bills. But it was enough. I placed the money in my wallet, and folded the note with care and placed it in my pocket. I've kept that note to this day. It was the last I had ever heard from Karin Baker.