Dilemma

Recently a new cloud appeared. She'd begun talking about our other "children." She was doing so well that she was able to cut back on many of the drugs that transplant patients have to take and was beginning a campaign to be allowed to have the two remaining embryos implanted in her. It scared me to death.

It was true that she was a model patient. The heart turned out to be so compatible it might have come from her twin, but it wasn't a perfect match and she needed the drugs to keep her as healthy as she was.

I think that's what was so hard on her, she just felt so good, better than she'd felt, in some ways, than before she went to Africa. This led to some knock-down, drag-out fights ... OK it led to a lot of yelling and hand waving on my part and serene smiles on her part as she argued "reasonably."

The crux of her argument was that the embryos were humans and we couldn't just leave them forever frozen. We argued about what made a human and when cells acquired a soul. Her argument was that while we didn't know exactly when a group of cells became human why risk it. I'd been raised pro-choice and believed in a woman's right to choose, but even I had to admit that it didn't make a lot of sense to make the cut off point when the baby was born. I was inclined to say when the baby became viable outside the mother. That was human enough for me, and at that point the baby should be protected. I suppose that would be about the last trimester ... isn't that what the Supreme Court said in the original Roe v. Wade?

In one argument I pointed out that the Methodist Social principles supported abortion to preserve the health and life of the mother. Have you ever heard the term "bringing a knife to a gunfight?" Never argue theology with theologian! I have no excuse. I knew she was published, the sale of her books created a healthy trust fund for the twins, but the words she used! If you do decide to argue theology with a theologian, at least make sure you know enough Greek, Latin and Hebrew to know if they're making points or swearing at you. Bottom line, I think her theological arguments were just cover. She had a deep tie to those embryos. Her response was far beneath the emotional level of logic. Those were her babies and she wasn't going to let them languish in some frozen jar.

I'll never forget the Sunday afternoon that I sat her down on our bed, looked deeply into her eyes and said, "Honey, I will never allow you to carry those babies. You've always said that theologically I was the head of this family, and I'm saying this is final."

Do you know when you've been had? She gave me a big sexy smile and said, "That means if I can find the right person to carry them we'll have two more babies?" I knew exactly how Br'er Fox felt after he'd thrown Br'er Rabbit back in to the briar patch as a torture, only to find that he'd thrown him into his favorite place.

I might have caught on sooner, but she'd immediately began using her best argument ... her hands had magically appeared inside my pants. Almost before she finished her sentence she had put her mouth to better usages, no doubt so I wouldn't see her gloat. All I could do was moan was "YES!" I was not giving my permission for her to find another surrogate mother ... but that point could be disputed by an impartial jury. Besides, I knew that Sandy was no longer physically able to carry more children and who else would do that for us? Isn't a man's logic silly when he thinks with the wrong head?

Two months later I came home on a Friday night and Cindy was wearing one of her sexiest outfits. She had my favorite dinner prepared ... chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and English peas. Then she sprung her first surprise. She'd just signed a contract to do a series of seven books over the next 10 years. The amount of advance check staggered me; she'd be making more than I did, and only working part time at home! I knew exactly how she wanted to celebrate when she asked me to take the twins to one of our friend's house while she cleaned up after dinner, so we could "discuss what this meant for our future." I loved the way she could, uh ... discuss!

She promised to have everything ready before I got back, and as I was leaving she said, "Wait 'till you see what I've got for you when you get back ... 'Big Daddy'!"

I didn't speed. Okay, I didn't speed while the twins were in the car. The round trip normally took about just under an hour. Even with the time settling the twins and getting all their stuff unloaded, six interminable red lights and a jerk who farmed both sides of the road as he drove, I was pulling into our driveway forty-two minutes after I left. When Cindy went all out ... well I do believe that the angels wept that they weren't one of us.

Oh God! As I got to our bedroom, the first thing I saw was the votive candle that heated the little glass bowl of scented oil. The smell was powerful, and until that instant had been my favorite. There were other candles around the room, giving a soft glow to the darkness.

Cindy was in her sexiest Victoria's Secret outfit and laying on my side of our bed. She had the sweetest smile on her face. It was the one she had when she would tell me how much she loved me, but I knew it wasn't for me. It was for the only one she loved more than me. Even before I touched her I knew she'd never smile like that for me again.

She must have died minutes after I left, she was already un-naturally cold. I pulled the covers from her side of the bed to warm her. The oddest thought struck me, "How could she have smiled with the pain of a heart attack?" Then, I collapsed on the floor and I wept. I'll never know how long I keened. I just know that after an eternity I felt her voice saying, "Chris, don't cry for me, you know where I am. Don't try to be strong, let your friends help. The twins need you."

It wasn't that I actually "heard" her voice. It was that I felt a warmth flush my body and I knew what she wanted me to do. I don't believe in ghosts, but I'll always believe that her spirit or something swept through me and that's what I felt. None of my pain was gone or lessened, but no one will ever convince me that Cindy left without saying goodbye.

Somehow I was able to call 911 and I even helped the paramedics move her onto their cart. They knew her from her volunteer work at our local hospital and one had tears in her eyes. I think that helped me. I know that paramedics don't get emotional on the job, but I also knew that this crew wouldn't treat Cindy's body with the impersonal indifference that is routine and probably a professional necessity.

The police were there too, and again one of them was a friend of Cindy's. I knew questions had to be asked but it wasn't an interrogation, it was a friend sharing of my grief. I don't know who called the couple who were keeping the twins. I suppose it was the same person who called Cindy's parent, Sandy, and my parents.

I think I was in a bit of shock, I couldn't stand to go into our bedroom, instead I went to my recliner in the den. Someone put some elevator music on our CD player, and our den began to fill with clergy. Someone might have spoken to me, but thinking about it, I don't think they did. When Cindy had me read the book of Job with her, I commented that with "friends" like Job's three, who needed enemies. Cindy pointed out to me that they had torn their clothes sat, fasting, on a pile of shit, in complete silence with him for perfect amount of time probably more than a week.

They didn't start offering their bad advice until Job asked. It didn't make much of an impression at the time, but as I sat in my recliner, I understood. Sometimes, there just isn't anything you can say. Silence is harder than platitudes and sometimes the best thing you can do in sit on a dung heap and share your friend's pain.

I didn't sit there for seven days, but I didn't sleep that night. In the morning the physical needs of my body forced me to get up and it was only then that I was aware of two things. First, that Cindy had some great friends. Eventually, 12,253 people signed her registers. The largest Methodist Church in Philly overflowed, and people stood all around it on the grounds. People lined the road as we took her to the cemetery. Yeah, Cindy had some great friends. Thousands of people where anxious to do anything they could help me for her sake.

But the second thing I realized was that I didn't have any friends of my own. Oh, I had a lot of acquaintances who liked me, and who I liked. What I didn't have was someone who I would show up and sit on the shit-pile with me.

No, that's not true, there was one person who was closer to me than any sibling. Somewhere buried deeply in my grief, resentment still burned that by what she'd done Lorelei wasn't there for me. By her action she hadn't just cost me a wife, but she'd cost me the very best friend I could possibly have. She'd forced me to be alone, and the pain of that isolation came within a straw of breaking my camel's back.

I don't need to tell you about all the things that went into burying my wife, if you've buried your spouse, you understand. If you've been blessed, there's no way you could ever understand how it feels to know that part of you lies inside that box over an open hole in the ground. Why do they make such a big deal about covering the fresh dirt with that artificial grass?

No, if you've never been there, you could never understand how hard it is to watch a disembodied backhoe shove dirt on the one you love.

It was a mistake to request that I be alone with her at the end. I know I shouldn't have stayed, as that machine covered the grave, but I thought I needed to be there at the end, to tuck her in, you know? Like I'd done so many times before, when she was in the hospital.

The only remarkable thing, was what didn't happen. I expected some sort of sign from God that he was happy to have one of his special people home with him. All I got was the breeze in my face and the soothing scent from the mountain of flowers people had given. I guess the odor of sanctity was enough, she loved fresh flowers.

Later, when the prefect amount of time had passed, about a month, I was opening the normal 60 or so condolence cards I'd gotten every day since Cindy passed, when I saw it. I didn't need to open it. There was no return address, and my address had been typed, but I knew it was a birthday card from Lorelei. I didn't need to open it, I know Lorelei. I didn't need to open it to know what was inside, but I did. I wasn't surprised that there wasn't so much as a signature; not because she thought seeing it would hurt, but because she knew she didn't need words. It was just a beautiful birthday card and an appointment card. An appointment card that perfectly matched the one I'd found under the little votive candle the night Cindy died. An appointment card for the fertility clinic.

Tomorrow is my birthday and I am terrified. I have a decision to make and I just don't know what I should do.

Please, tell me, what would you do?

I need to thank Jay Cantrell for all his hard work in editing this story. As some other writers, I simply can't stop making changes. The errors that remain were added after his last review.

I also need to thank all my beta readers. You can see how your suggestions have made this a much better story. Thanks so much!