Rx

I sat at the kitchen table wondering what I would say to her. My indecision was partly the result of the shock of learning what I now knew, partly the realization of how oblivious I was to the state of my marriage, but mostly the fear of not knowing how far my life would diverge from the future we had planned.

I heard the garage door open; my wife was home. I had some time to try to calm myself as she walked up the street to get the mail, but I couldn't stop my heart from knocking on my chest.

I watched her enter the kitchen and drop the mail and her leather messenger bag on the table. The table was solid oak, hand-made, a wedding gift from my parents. The included six chairs were a not-so-subtle hint they expected several grandchildren from our union.

Before she said anything, she saw the white Walgreen's sack on the table next to me.

"What's that, Sweetie?"

It's funny; she couldn't sing "Happy Birthday" in tune, but she had the most melodious voice I ever heard. It occurred to me at that moment, how easily her voice could mask a bald-faced lie.

Anyway, it looked like she was going to play innocent. I opened the bag, took out the pill bottle, and set it on the table.

"It's an antibiotic."

"Oh, Honey, I didn't know you were sick! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you. It hurts when I pee. I thought maybe I was passing a kidney stone. A couple of days ago I saw the doctor. They ran a battery of tests. The results came back today. You gave me chlamydia, Ashley. The doc said I might have had if for a while and only just recently developed symptoms."

She slowly sat down opposite me, elbows on the table, head held in her hands, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Josh. I'm so, so sorry."

"Did you know you were infected? Did you ignore any warning signs?"

"No, Josh! I would never do that to you. I love you. I do. Please believe me."

"Then why, Ashley? Why would you do that to us? To me?"

She shuddered then took a deep breath. I couldn't be sure if she was composing herself or stalling so she could tailor her response.

"You remember how depressed I was after the miscarriage..."

I nodded. I knew that much was true. Four months earlier, we had decided to start a family. We were so ecstatic to get a blue line, we immediately announced our first pregnancy to family and friends.

A month later, Ashley miscarried at work.

"That's when it happened. It was a mistake, Josh! It didn't mean anything. He noticed I was feeling low, and he asked me if I was okay and..."

"I don't want to hear it! I don't care who the asshat was, and I don't care how it happened. I just want to know when."

"That's when. Just after. It was just the one time, Josh. I'm so sorry."

"So, two months ago."

"Yes."

"Only that one time."

"Yes."

She was all cried out. I was exhausted trying to keep my composure.

"Look at me, Ashley." She tilted her head up, still rested it in her hands.

"The thing is, I don't believe you."

If it hadn't been so tragic, the combined deer-in-the-headlights, fish-out-of-water look on her face would have been amusing.

"The doctor said it's likely you've been infected for a while, long enough for scar tissue to accumulate and prevent a fertilized egg from reaching the uterus, so it attaches somewhere in the fallopian tubes. That's what caused the miscarriage. And Ashley, that takes a lot longer than two months."

Her devastation was tangible. She looked comatose, slumped low over the table.

"How long have you been cheating on me, Ashley?"

She shrugged. "Since New Year's Day," she whispered.

Eight months! Oh, you fucking bitch! I didn't want to lose it; I had to take the high road. I paused to catch my breath.

"Josh, please, I love you with all my heart. You know I do. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"One more question, Ashley. Will you answer honestly?"

She nodded.

"Can you be certain, without a shadow of a doubt, the baby was mine?"

She burst into tears, once more burying her head in her arms.

"I thought not. We're done, Ashley. Thanks for nothing."