My husband Andy is a good man. Despite what my mother says. She was opposed to us getting married ‘young’, sure we were both 19, but we had been together for years and our sixth anniversary was fast approaching. We were happy. At least I thought so.
Andy has always wanted a family- I was never so keen on the idea. We found out not too long ago that I was pregnant. I was still on the hunt for a job after graduating from university this summer, I wasn’t ready to have a child- I wasn’t even sure if I wanted one!
Whenever I brought it up with Andy he would get upset.
“Please, I don’t want to hear this.” He pleaded with me after I brought up the discussion of possibly aborting the seed before it grew into something serious. “I have my whole life ahead of me” I argued back with him, “when I graduated I had plans to become a nurse, not build a nursery!” “No more please, I can’t.” Like a coward he would walk away, every time. Leaving me crying and sinking slowly into a depressive state.
‘Why didn’t you just go and abort the child yourself?’ Some of you may ask. But it wouldn’t feel right. This ‘thing’ was a product of both of us- it would crush Andy to think that I’d even consider going behind his back.
So I suffered in- occasional- silence. Depending on my mood for that day.
We had a friend, Kylie- she was always over here, having tea with me and playing board games. This pregnancy was really getting to me.
Anytime I brought it up with Kylie though, she would just smile sympathetically at me, then try to change the subject.
I wasn’t stupid though. I knew something fishy was going on.
I saw the way she looked at him, and the glances they shared across the dinner table. I was furious- but I didn’t know how to react.
Until one day…
I was sat downstairs reading my book, when I started to feel a little sleepy. Having fallen asleep in my chair before, I didn’t want a repeat of the backache afterwards, so I decided to go to bed for a nap.
I saw them.. Both of them.. Andy and Kylie; hands traveling over each others clothed bodies, fingers dancing beneath blouses, lips locked, as they stood in the middle of the bedroom, devouring one another.
My heart broke in that moment.
“I’m carrying YOUR child!” I screamed at Andy. “How could you do this to me- all this time I’ve wanted an abortion and here you are, with this slut, behind my back. How could-” My voice cracked. I was hysterical.
Andy came to me, arms out, trying to calm me down.
“No!” I screamed, “you have ruined me, you have ruined my future!” I slapped him- hard. “Get that home wrecker out of MY house.” I ordered.
“Mum, please” he barely whispered.
What..?
“Mum, this is Kylie- you know Kylie- you love Kylie.”
“I know Kylie- she’s the- she’s… She’s the tart sleeping with my husband- you, Andy- how could you?”
“No, Mum- Kylie is my wife- remember. Dad died, three years ago.”
Then Andy- sorry… I mean Johnathon. Johnathon explained everything to me.
Andy, my husband- Johnathon’s father- died of a heart attack three years ago.
Just over two years later I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Instead of putting me in a home, my wonderful son- Johnathon, the baby I wanted to abort- became my live in carer, with his wonderful wife, Kylie.
Sometimes I slip and forget that Johnathon isn’t Andy, but they look so much alike- it breaks my heart every time they sit me down- again and again- to explain the situation.
In the blink of an eye I’ve lost over twenty years of my life- the memories crumbling beneath this torturous disease.
I’m a prisoner of the past.
It helps to write about it.
Banshee Creations 