My Afternoon With Maury

Most of my stories take cues from real life -- people I've known, situations I've faced, circumstances friends have related to me in confidence.

This story, on the other hand, is 99% fantasy. I watch Maury sometimes; it's my 'guilty pleasure'. This tale derives from asking myself, "What if that were you...?" It involves a couple of real events and people in my life, but only peripherally.

There is no explicit sex in this story. I've placed it in the Celebrities category for lack of a real place for it, and because it involves a real celebrity; it could have been romance as well.

*

My first marriage was a disaster, no matter how you slice it. We were ill-matched, hormone-addled, and hell-bent on messing up our lives. Or so it seems, retrospect being what it is.

I'll not unearth details of something best left buried. Suffice to say, two years and no kids after the wedding, we were divorced.

If there's one good thing that came out of my marriage, it was maturity. I recognized I took unrealistic expectations into my marriage, and I was too young and stupid. What did Shaw say? "Youth is wasted on the young." Amen to that.

Well, after my first wife vanished from my life, I settled into a solitary existence. I harbored vague notions of finding someone else someday; but I made a few friends-with-benefits along the way, and I was perfectly content with that level of relationship.

I was nearing thirty when all that came to a halt.

I was a programmer for a state agency, a mainframer in a department which steadfastly resisted the migration to client-server technology. I was involved with a very large project, one which required some extra bodies.

The contract firms supplied us with some candidates. We interviewed a couple dozen, eventually settling on the six best.

One of those was a young woman named Amy. I guesstimated her age at twenty-seven (right on the money, it turned out). She was assigned to work with my group.

If you've heard civil servants do exactly enough to get by, you have for the most part been properly informed. There were seven people on my team, and four of them (including me) were regular state employees. I was the only one who actually considered work to be a worthwhile activity. The other three did precisely what was required: in by 8:30, out by 5:00. Overtime? Fool!

Two of the three contractors were better, though not that much.

Amy, on the other hand... ah, what a pleasure to work with her. We shared a passion about owning our work, letting it reflect well on us, giving the hard-working taxpayers what they deserved.

As a result, we worked together very closely.

As the project wore on, we began to know more about one another, personal background information as well as personality components: hopes, dreams, like that. We began a small flirtation that blossomed into something akin to romance. We saw each other evenings and weekends.

Always, we were aware of the potential for disaster if anyone in our working circles suspected we were involved. Charges of favoritism, even if completely unfounded, were the kiss of death for her employment and my position.

One evening, though, it all came together. We were sitting on my couch, canoodling and kissing, and it was getting hot and heavy; and that's when one of my hands found one of her breasts.

I tried to take it back, but she was having none of it. Before I knew it, we were naked and devouring one another.

I'll leave the rest to the imagination of the reader.

Within three weeks, she had moved in with me. We still kept things very quiet, easy to do when you're sufficiently dedicated to your work to focus on work at the office, and on play at home.

Eventually the project ended, some six months later. She was reassigned to another agency within the state complex still struggling with mainframes. She and I were finally able to take our relationship public.

Things leveled out and stayed very satisfying for two years. Then, one evening, after making love, I made what might have seemed a blunder.

We were enjoying post-coital cuddling, when I said, "Amy?"

"Mmm?" she murmured.

"I love you," I said, meaning it.

She stiffened for a fraction; or was it my imagination? She then lifted her face to mine and we kissed deeply. At length, she said, "Tell me what that means."

After a moment's thought, I replied, "Well, it means I'm thinking about settling down, I guess. You know about my first marriage." She nodded. "I think you've cured me of my deep cynicism about marriage." It wasn't a proposal; just an indication I was thinking on those lines.

She really didn't say much. After a while, I heard her breathing slow, and I knew she was asleep. I joined her in that sweet slumber.

It was the last time for a while.

She didn't come home the next evening, and I got worried. It wasn't like her. She finally stumbled in around midnight, reeking of beer and smoke. "Where have you been?" I asked, rather more sharply than I had intended.

"Out with friends," she replied, and went into the bathroom. She emerged twenty minutes later, showered, and slipped into bed without so much as a word.

The next morning was a little tense. She left before I was ready to say goodbye; and that evening was a replay of the last.

I decided discretion was the better part of valor, so I allowed things to play themselves out for a week.

Nothing improved, though, and in fact the situation got worse. She was staying out late every evening, ignoring me, and generally acting like what we had had was a sham.

So it was that on Saturday morning, ten mornings after the first evening of her aberrant behavior, I confronted her. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Nothing," she replied sullenly.

I had prepared for that. "Then you have no place to stay. Pack your shit and leave. And don't argue with me. My name is on the lease. You have no legal standing to be here."

She glared at me. "Okay," she said after a moment, "I've found someone else. I've been fucking him every night. You haven't been getting any, didja notice?" She spat that last shot.

I kept my composure as I regarded her. "I'll be back in six hours. Have lover-boy help you evacuate your shit. Don't be here when I return."

"Jeff, wait," she started, "I'm sorry..."

I ignored her, walked out the door, got into my car, and drove for three hours. I pulled into an interstate rest stop, sat and wept for a while. I still loved her, Heaven help me, but I couldn't deal with that kind of abuse. At length, I began the long drive home.

When I walked in, I saw, to my relief, she had not trashed the place; but there was nothing there to remind me of her. She had obeyed me to the letter, I noted with a painful mix of relief and longing.

I was starting my life over, yet again.

Five years passed. During that time, I drowned my sorrows, first in booze, then in work; I avoided women, and generally became a recluse outside of the office. I did manage to buy a house, a small-yet-cozy three-bedroom bungalow. 'Twasn't much, but it was mine. (Literally, mine: I paid it off with an inheritance from my grandmother.)

I pulled myself out of my slump, and life was pretty much good, again. I was thirty-five, living rent-free, essentially no debts, making a good salary, and well on the way to early retirement (well, twenty years, but hey). I still had a couple of friends-with-benefits, and I was content to live as I was.

One evening, I was sitting in my easy chair, right after the evening news. I was about to run down to the basement and do my nightly thirty minutes on my treadmill -- gotta watch that pre-middle-age spread -- when the phone rang.

The conversation lasted no more than five minutes. It was a producer from the Maury Povich Show. I was invited to come to New York to do a segment.

Seemed a woman named Amy had named me as a possible father for her child.

Three weeks later, I was sitting in the green room at the Maury show. I had been interviewed a couple of days earlier by one of the staff. I watched the monitor, and grinned at the way they had edited together my comments, as follows:

"A few years ago, I was involved with a woman named Amy... we lived together for awhile, a couple of years, in fact, and I thought we would eventually get married... she decided monogamy was not the right answer for her, and we ended up parting ways... a couple of weeks ago, the phone rang. It was the Maury Show. When I picked up the phone, I was a single man with no kids. When I hung up, I was potentially the father of a four-year-old daughter... If this is my child, I hope Amy will allow me to become a part of her life."

Edited together? Yeah, with a chainsaw. Well, they had gotten the gist of it right, anyway.

Just then, a producer said, "You're on."

I walked out onto the stage to thunderous applause, and was greeted by Maury with that guy-hug thing he does. He ushered me toward the seats...

and I saw Amy for the first time in five years.

My heart melted.

There was a look of sadness, and even apprehension, on her face as I approached; but I scooped her up in my arms and kissed her cheek, and she held my more tightly than I had ever imagined being held.

After a moment, we separated, and sat in our respective chairs, holding hands.

"So," Maury began, "you've never seen this child before, have you?"

No, sir," I replied.

"Well, take a look," he said, gesturing to the wall monitor.

I looked into the face of a child, a little girl that was clearly me with different plumbing.

"What do you think?" asked Maury.

A moment passed; then, "Maury, that's trouble right there," I replied.

An undercurrent of resentment rumbled through the audience; but before they could erupt into booing, I said, "Look at that face. Is ANYONE going to tell me, ten, twelve years from now, that," I gestured toward the wall, "won't be breaking some hearts?"

The crowd went from semi-hostile to cheering in a heartbeat. One lady, an older black woman in the front row, was especially vocal. I pointed at her and said, "Can you give me an 'amen'? Is that gonna be a heartbreaker, or what?"

The older lady clapped and laughed and generally had a shaking fit, and the audience joined her.

"I understand Amy cheated on you, and ended the relationship?" asked Maury, after the commotion calmed.

I considered. "No, that's not quite correct, Maury." His eyebrows raised in that way he has, and I continued. "We were never married. We never spoke vows. As a matter of truth, she didn't really cheat on me." The audience loved that philosophical view.

After things calmed down, Maury asked, "So what do you want to happen here?"

I very deliberately said, "Maury, I want for everyone to leave this stage, when you read that result, satisfied with the outcome, and able to move on in a positive direction." Sure, it was new-age bullshit, but it got another standing-O from the crowd; and besides, it was a fair reflection of my attitude.

"And do you intend you intend to get into this child's life?" asked Maury, as always.

"Maury," I replied, "if I am her father, I will work with her mother to be the best parents any child ever had." I looked at Amy, and she returned my gaze with a smile; the audience had a mass orgasm.

"Well, then, let's have the results, shall we?" asked the host.

The audience settled, and Maury intoned, "When it comes to the case of four-year-old Milly... Jeff... you ARE the father!"

The audience erupted; Amy and I embraced, and kissed like we had never separated.

Then, there was the producer, presenting my small daughter to me for the first time. I took her in my arms; she looked into my eyes, and said, "Daddy!" Then she hugged me.

I could have died a happy man right then.

--------

Later that evening, Amy and I sat together, alone, for the first time in a long time. We made some small talk; most of it centered on Milly.

Finally, Amy said, "Jeff... I was a fool. I never wanted to hurt you, but you loved me, and I wasn't ready to be loved. It's not an excuse, it's just.. me, damaged goods." She lowered her head and wept a little.

I looked over into the corner, where my sweet little daughter slept the sleep of innocence. I had rocked her to sleep, and it felt so good, so absolutely right.

I looked back at Amy. "I never stopped loving you," I said.

Amy smiled through her tears. "I know, and I'm so sorry I hurt you. It's a sad excuse, but I was scared."

After a moment, I said, "What about lover-boy?"

She shook her head. "That's the worst part of all this. You were right, this afternoon. I never cheated on you. But it's because there never was anyone else. I made it up to push you away. I always knew you were Milly's father."

"And you waited four years to tell me?" I asked flatly.

A few more tears ran down her cheeks, but she did not break down. "I couldn't bring myself to talk to you, after the way I acted. I wanted to so badly. I wanted you so badly. But about six months ago, Milly started asking me where her daddy was. I knew I had to try."

She looked at me expectantly, her eyes brimming. I said, "I would absolutely hate for my Milly to grow up not knowing, beyond any doubt, that her parents loved her unconditionally."

She threw her arms around me.

-------

I was watching the Maury Show. Amy sat with Maury; it was an Update program, a segment involving how things were going two years after she and I had been been reunited on that stage. Her image broke up in that strange way HDTV will do, if you're standing too close.

Maury asked her how her life was; she responded all was well. He inquired as to what kind of father I had been to my new-found daughter.

"Oh, he's a great father, Maury," she replied. "Very, very active in her life. Now," she added, "there's a new man in my life, and I'm a married lady." With that, she held out her left hand to display her ring.

"A new man?" repeated Maury.

"Uh-huh," Amy replied. "Would you like to meet him?"

"Sure!" exclaimed Maury.

"You're up," said the producer.

"Daddy, come on, we have to go!" said Milly.

I laughed softly to myself. She's such a ball of fire.

I grasped the handles of the stroller beside me, in which slept my infant son, Amy's and mine, little Nathaniel.

Milly led the way, and I pushed the stroller down the ramp to greet the waiting Maury.

The audience thundered their approval.