Sweet, Stupid Martyr

Thank you again to blackrandl1958 for her editing and encouragement. This one is not for everyone, but continues my trip down the road of writing something different.

For the third time in my life, I was stunned into amazement by the miracle of childbirth.

Watching a baby come into this world is a combination of all that is good and bad and beautiful and disgusting. There are few other words that can describe it.

I had moved down from my wife's side to the side of the doctor delivering the child so I could get a better look at the baby coming into the world. I had done the exact same thing for the birth of my two children. Why should this time be different, even if the child coming out of my wife's womb wasn't mine? A miracle is a miracle.

Everyone in the delivery room was cognizant of the fact that the child was not mine. I was there strictly to support my wife in her time of need, "for better or worse" as the vows say. This was definitely the "worse" part.

The child in question was the daughter of my wife and her boss, Simon Green. Nobody in the room knew that I knew who the father was. Traci never told me who the father was, but she had told her gynecologist and his staff, so the name would go on the baby's birth certificate, which I, in theory, was never to see. Yeah, it was complicated.

As agreed upon by my wife and me, I was leaving my home one month after she and the baby got home. As I said, the month was for support, something I felt I owed her for 17 years of marriage and two great children.

The reason I didn't owe her more was the affair that led to the baby. She and her lover had been sleeping together for about a year, she admitted to me when she told me she was pregnant seven months earlier. I had gotten a vasectomy 13 years after our second child was born.

To say I went nuts was the understatement of the year, but she held her ground and wouldn't tell me who the father was... because he had a wife and three kids and she didn't want me to blow up his family.

"The fuck! It's okay for him to blow up my family, but you don't want me ruining his! You sweet, stupid martyr!" I yelled.

We were done at that point, but I stayed in the house for the sake of our two kids, Millie, 15, and Gary, 13. After weeks of screaming and fighting, we came to the plan that I would stay for a month after she had the baby. She said the father wanted nothing to do with the baby, so I agreed to go to the childbirth classes with her, be in the delivery room and stick around until she and the baby could get settled. Then I would be gone.

I'm a CPA. It's not the most exciting of jobs. I don't have a military background, I'm not any kind of a spy and I don't have mob connections. Surprisingly, though, I do have some pretty good connections through my business dealings, so I'm not totally without resources. Inside of two weeks, I had Simon Green's name, address, phone number, bank account numbers and his personal history back to eighth grade.

I didn't tell my wife any of this.

******

I moved back up toward my wife's head as the doctor cut the cord and gave the baby to a nurse to check and clean.

"She's beautiful, almost as beautiful as ours," I said snarkily as I brushed a sweaty, stray hair out of her eyes.

I knew my comment hit home from the sad look in her eyes. Then her eyes rolled back into her head as the low buzz in the room became a cacophony of noise. People started moving quickly and one of the nurses told me I had to leave immediately and pushed me toward the door. I went numbly in the direction she had moved me.

Several minutes later, the doctor walked slowly out of the birthing room, with an awful lot of blood on his gown. He told me that something unforeseen had happened, a bleed had developed and he couldn't get it stopped in time. He was sorry, but Traci was gone.

I remember slumping to the floor before darkness overtook me.

******

"Are you going to contact the father to take the baby?" I asked the doctor when he and a nurse got me revived.

"Ah... uh... I'm not sure what we have to do," Dr. Robert Krimkat said. "I think I need to speak to the hospital administrator about this."

Although I knew I didn't want to raise Traci's baby, I didn't want the child going into the foster care system, especially when there was a legitimate parent around to raise her. I pushed hospital administration into calling Simon Green. I was in the room when the administrator made the call and explained the circumstances of Traci's death. From the administrator's end of the conversation, it didn't sound as if Simon wanted to step up to the plate.

I showed up on Simon Green's doorstep an hour later, knowing his wife, Valerie, was a stay-at-home. We had met several times in the six years that Simon and Traci had worked together. She was shocked when she heard about Traci's death, and she wondered why I was at her house instead of being with my grieving children.

I pulled out my phone and showed her a photo of Traci and Simon's baby. I didn't need to say a word.

"That rat bastard!" she screamed.

It took several minutes for me to calm her down enough to talk. I explained to her that if she and Simon didn't take the baby, my in-laws—Traci's parents—would try to adopt the child. Despite the fact that my in-laws and I were currently at odds due to Traci's behavior, I knew they would do their best to raise the child, but first I felt the surviving parent should be given the chance.

"And this also gave you a primo chance to fuck up my husband's life and marriage as badly as he did yours," Valerie said harshly.

"I can't say that thought didn't enter into the equation," I admitted. "But at the same time, why should the baby not have her only parent. I'm not saying that you shouldn't come out of this with nothing, but I think that's a negotiation between you and your husband. And that also includes you making sure that I don't get arrested or sued by him when I get my physical revenge... because that will be coming someday."

I went home to my distraught kids. My in-laws and my parents were also at the house.

"You're not going to leave now, are you Dad?" Gary asked while we sat around the dinner table later.

"No, Bud. I'll be cancelling my alternative arrangements now. We'll stay together as a family," I responded.

I could sense the unease at the table. I knew what the unasked question was. I wasn't going to answer it until somebody had the guts to ask. It was left to my mother-in-law.

"What about the baby, Damian?" Marilyn asked. "Will we be able to raise the baby?"

"Right now, it's up to the father to make the decision," I answered. "It's his child legally. He would have to terminate his rights before you would get first shot."

"Will we ever get to see our sister... half-sister?" Millie asked, changing her question mid-stream when she looked at my face.

"I suppose that would be up to the baby's father if he chooses to do the right thing and raise the child. Your rights as half-siblings aren't near as important as his rights as father," I answered.

"If the father would allow it, could we have her here sometimes?" Millie queried as I felt all eyes turn to me.

"No," I answered blankly. "I don't need that reminder of your mother's cheating on me in this house. If you want to spend time with her, and the father allows it, you could see her at Grandma and Grandpa's."

Without looking at them, I could feel both of my in-laws cringe. At least I didn't refer to my late wife as a slut this time, not that it would have been inaccurate.

The viewing and funeral were difficult. Most of our families and close friends knew about our estrangement due to Traci's affair. Most of them knew that I had a vasectomy years ago, so they knew her pregnancy was from another man. While I didn't wish her dead, we were in the middle of a divorce, so I'm sure many of our relatives thought my grief was somewhat hypocritical. Hell, I'll admit that I thought I was being somewhat hypocritical. We did have 16 good years of marriage—I wasn't counting the last year—and were together for three years before that. That's the Traci I would miss.

******

I'll admit that the first thing I noticed about Traci was the tight T-shirt covering what looked like a pair of cantaloupes as she and a friend sauntered around the Michigan State University campus early in what was the sophomore year for both of us. She was 5-7, maybe 120 pounds, with much of that weight in her shirt.

"Motherfucker! Look at that!" I rasped to my roommate, Benji, as the two women crossed in front of us.

"Wow!" Benji replied. "Wow!"

Benji was never going to be a best-selling author or songwriter.

We turned in the direction the two women were heading. I got to watch her long blonde hair and her tight ass as they walked in front of us.

I was smitten, and I didn't even know if she had a personality or a brain.

It took me two weeks to learn that her name was Traci and that she was a finance major. Finance isn't much less boring than accounting, but you can't major in it without a brain.

She accepted my offer of a date. Not only did she look like a goddess, but she had a great personality, a snide streak a mile wide and she was a big sports fan. Bingo!

My conservative nature was completely overwhelmed by this force of nature. All I knew was that I needed... NEEDED... to make her mine. By our third date, we had decided to be exclusive. We had sex on our fourth date. I about sprained my tongue trying to give her the best oral sex I had ever given. Judging by the amount of screaming and shaking she did, I think I succeeded.

We were married a year after we graduated and settled in Denver, Colorado. I got a job at one of the better accounting practices in the state, and Traci got a job at a big Denver bank.

Millicent came along two years later, with Gary completing the family two years after that. We both had good jobs and made good money. Life was good until it wasn't.

******

I never saw it coming. She never upped the sex or cut me off. She never got bitchy with me or the kids. She worked late some nights, but she did that her entire career. I worked late some nights, too.

She said the kids were at her parents for the weekend; not unusual by any stretch. She was finishing up what looked to be a special dinner: beef of some kind, with the good silver and cloth napkins on the table. Our crystal wine glasses. I was thinking that maybe I was going to get lucky... for the entire weekend!

The meal was amazing. My expectations were through the roof as Traci served a chocolate torte with coffee for dessert. I had been waiting the entire meal for her to make some sort of announcement. She finally cleared her throat.

"I'm pregnant, Dame," she whispered, her eyes glued to the table.

I gacked. I hacked. I choked. I puked... all over the gorgeous lace tablecloth. End of a perfect evening... end of my marriage as I knew it.

Traci screeched when my vomit hit the table.

"Aaaah noooo!" she cried before she jumped up and grabbed the roll of paper towels.

I also jumped up, but I immediately ran into the downstairs bathroom and heaved up the rest of that scrumptious meal. When I came back into the room, I had cleaned my face and dried my tears. Traci had removed the tablecloth and had it cleaning in the washing machine and had cleaned the table completely.

"Fuck, Traci. Why didn't you just plunge a big knife into my heart and get the job done quickly?" I rasped. "You can't be fucking serious!"

"I-I-I'm sorry to spring this on you, Dame. I just thought we could have a great meal and discuss this like adults," Traci said.

I fell back onto the sofa in the family room, my stomach fighting my head for the body part that felt the worst. My heart probably would have felt worse if my wife hadn't just ripped that organ from my body.

I had so many questions...

"Who, Traci?" I finally asked.

"You don't need to know that for now," she said calmly and quietly. "He's got a family and you don't need to ruin things for them."

"Why is it okay for your lover to ruin our marriage and blow up our family, but you're protecting him. You obviously love him more than you love us," I accused.

"I don't love him more, but I do care for him very much," she answered. "We've been having an affair for about a year. I wasn't looking for it to happen, Dame. We had been friends for a while, but we finally made the connection."

"No. No. We are supposed to have a connection. Just you and me. Not you and me and you and a lover," I said.

"But it never affected you and me. It was outside of us, Damian," she said. "You would have never known if I didn't get pregnant..."

"Which brings up yet another problem. Not only were you having an affair, you were fucking him bareback. Couldn't you see this coming, or did you just not care enough?"

Traci blushed profusely but did not answer.

"Why, Traci? Wasn't I enough for you? Don't I do it for you anymore? Oh my God..." I said.

"Maybe it's not about you, Dame," she rasped. "Maybe this is just something I needed. I've been a good wife and mother. I'm still a good wife and mother. I've told you before, this didn't affect you or our kids. I never denied you anything. I never took time from our kids."

"A good wife doesn't step outside of the marriage. You said it was something you needed. I'm thinking it was something you wanted. Big difference, although in the grand scope of things, it still doesn't matter. You cheated. End of story," I said.

She sat on the other end of the sofa from me. The silence was incredibly loud.

"So I'm assuming the reason you told me about the affair is because you intend to keep the baby," I said somberly. "Otherwise, you would have eliminated the problem quietly and just told me that you had some sort of yeast infection to avoid sex with me for a while.

"Which makes assumption number two that you plan to divorce me, because you know me well enough to know that there's no way I'd ever raise another man's child."

Traci glanced briefly at me, but quickly turned away before she caught my eye.

"Actually... that is a wrong assumption, Dame. My partner wants nothing to do with this child, but I'm not going to give it up. I want us—me and you—to raise the child... as ours," she said.

My jaw dropped. I felt... faint.

"What the fuck?" I mumbled. "Please tell me I've dropped into some sort of weird dimension. My wife can't be asking me to raise another man's love-child, knowing that enough of our friends know it can't possibly be mine. Why don't you just ask me to let you cut my balls off with a rusty pair of scissors, in front of a huge audience?"

"I know this is big... huge... okay, astronomical. I know this seems crazy, but it's my baby. You can do this for me. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you," she pleaded.

"Don't make this about your ego. You are a strong man, Dame. You can do this for me... for us. PLEASE."

"Nobody with a shred of self-respect is that strong, woman. You're asking me for my man card... and those of my descendants for the next three generations," I growled.

"Forget the child for a second. You've been cheating on me for a year. That's a no-go, you slut."

Traci recoiled at my comment. I'd never before addressed her that brutally.

The next day I was on the phone calling in a few favors.

At least Traci didn't try to ambush me a week later when she asked to talk. She came clean and admitted that her... partner... would not be able to support her during her pregnancy, and tearfully asked me to stay in the house with her and the kids, at least until the baby was born and things were settled. When I assented, she surprised me with one more ask.

"I know I don't have any right to ask anything else, but... could you do the childbirth classes with me again and come into the delivery room again," she asked shyly. "I know you loved going into delivery the first two times. This should be easy for you."

"You're right about that. You know I'd volunteer to go into the delivery room with any woman who asked. Why not with you? You've got a deal, but I'm gone a month after the baby is born," I declared.

Traci and I sat the kids down and told them what was happening when Traci first started to show. Neither child took the news well.

"Perfect. My mother's not only a slut, but she's a knocked-up slut. The first person who says something to me is going to lose some teeth, I'll tell you that," Millie yelled.

"Well maybe my friends will stop drooling over you when you get all big and fat," Gary said.

"Not necessarily, Gary. Her boobs will be the size of basketballs. Your hornball friends will be over at the house all the time staring at them," Millie said harshly.

Traci started crying when the kids made their comments. This would have been the spot where I normally would have stepped in and laid down some harsh words, but I had nothing, especially since I announced my plan to leave a month after the baby was born.

"Your mother made a mistake, but that doesn't mean she still doesn't love you guys. And that mistake does not mean that you can show her disrespect, especially around me. We will all get through this, in some way. Things will be changed, yes, but she is going to need your support and love more than ever," I said.

"Says the guy who's going to bail after the baby is born," Millie huffed.

"I can't say you're not right, but my situation as the betrayed husband is a little different from yours as her kids. The baby just makes everything more obvious and awkward. I would have divorced your mother even if she wasn't pregnant," I explained.

Traci started to sob harder and stood to leave, but I grabbed her hand and pulled her back down to sit again at the kitchen table with us.

"You don't get to run and hide and do the waterworks act. You... and your lover... created this situation, and you will sit here and get pelted with all the rocks the kids want to throw. Own it," I growled.

The kids asked several questions of both of us. Traci refused to name her paramour when Gary asked with whom she had cheated. He surprised me when he changed tack and asked if she would at least tell him if it was somebody the family knew, so he could avoid that person in the future. I could tell the question surprised Traci as well as she silently studied her son before answering in the negative.

"Have you at least told Dad who this douchebag is so Dad can punch this guy's lights out?" he immediately fired back.

Traci's face turned crimson. I saw anger in her eyes first before she looked guilty.

"I haven't told your father for that very reason," she said. "I'm afraid he'll do something stupid and wind up in jail."

"Not like you would ever do something stupid," Millie chimed in sarcastically.

Traci flinched and started to growl in anger. For the first time ever, I saw my daughter challenge her mother on what I would call a purely female level.

"Don't even think about it, bitch! I'm not sure your pregnant ass wants any piece of me right now!" Millie screamed as she jumped up and headed up the stairs to her room.

I glared at my wife as I got up from the table and headed upstairs to try to calm my daughter.

It took a few days, but Millie apologized to Traci for being disrespectful, and I thought they became a little closer again as the days passed. I saw them having quiet conversations several times over the next few weeks.

As I figured, the word slowly spread in the community about Traci's pregnancy not being from me. I'm not blind or deaf, and I could see and hear several co-workers and acquaintances discussing my life when I would enter a room. I usually got pitying looks from the women and lecherous smirks from the men. Nothing was ever said too loudly in my presence, of course.