Squaring the Circle

She wasn’t dreading seeing Walter. She wanted him there beside her, as desperately now as ever. But unlike three weeks ago, she wasn’t anticipating their time together as shimmering and glorious. Not this time.   

Fragile and numb, she lay on the rug, still wearing green slacks and a matching jacket, the one with the scooped neckline and floppy lapels, which she had worn to work. Shoes off, bereft, she closed her eyes while her mind’s infrared twins ran from each other in circles and collided head on.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

When Walter finally rang the doorbell, he did a double-take, similar to the one six months ago. Except this time he didn’t lift her in the air, and kiss her, abandoning everything.  This time, he said, “My God, Amanda, you’re so beautiful, it’s unreal!”

She choked, trying to laugh and took his hand. “I should have bet the bank, Walter. That you’d be stupid and romantic about this.”

“About what?”

She closed the door behind him. He dropped his travel bag and she pulled him to the couch where he held her unbelievably clear, luminous face close to his. He searched her eyes, which were wide and wondering, edging toward bewilderment.

“What’s happened, Amanda?”

Telling him was so hard. She trembled and embarrassing tears dripped down her face and throat before she could get the words out. “I haven’t told the father. Freddie. I’ve only told you.”

His expression combined terrible concern with what looked to her like stunned grief. He wrapped his arms around her and she cried.

“I supposed you’ve ruled out…” Still in his arms she nodded, yes, she’d ruled that out. She started to explain why but he whispered, “It’s okay.” She could explain later.

He blotted her wet face with a handkerchief and kissed her eyelids. “We’ll work something out.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’ve come at this from every direction. We can’t work anything out, Walter. Even though it’s early. Even though I could still change my mind. Which is why the exact reason not to change my mind. It won’t help.”

Walter stared blankly into the room, too worried—too crestfallen—to ask how that made sense. What had he been thinking last summer—insisting they were father and daughter? His desire for her, now that she was thirty-years-old, was pure and absolute. He coaxed her closer to him and touching her, managed to ask: “Well. Do you love the father?”

Amanda hugged her knees, pressing her fingers between her bare toes the way she had when she was a girl. Her voice gave a dismissive laugh. “For me, Walter, there’s you. And then there’s everybody else.”

He stroked her face, and buoyed by what she said, Walter dared to lift her up and settle her supine on the couch. He unbuttoned her little jacket and pressed his palms over her bra-clad breasts, which were unusually warm.

Amanda sighed, “Oh God,” and almost succumbed. But then—no, she couldn’t do this now.

Within the last six months, Walter’s heart had turned upside down. Always before, he refused her. So he had to describe how after that summer, the shameful past had finally receded into the deep past. That when the year brought on winter, he realized how very old he was.

Before her baby was born, Walter would turn fifty-nine years old, but he was still healthy. He had led a hobbled life, but if she truly thought she was in love him, “Well,” he said, “let’s see what happens.”

Amanda climbed into his lap facing him, but shaking her head. “Not now. It’s not too late, I promise. But it can’t happen now.”

They talked all night and all day and held each other, kissed each other, but that’s all. They kept their clothes on. Amanda was convinced that if they tried being lovers when she was pregnant by another man, their love would die. She had waited her whole life for Walter, and given the circumstances, they needed to wait a few more years.

Walter pleaded with her. He had made many terrible mistakes. But how many years was she contemplating? Until he was sixty-five?

“At least one year, maybe two.” If they didn’t wait, if they didn’t let this trick of fate play out, she and Walter were doomed. Even if she didn’t give birth, she would still need time to become purely herself again. She didn’t belong with him until this phase had passed. Until, three children or not, she was free. 

Walter refused to understand anything except that he’d wasted his life. Or most of it.

Before leaving Oak Park, Walter stopped at the hotel. Naturally, Freddie bought him a drink, and two for himself.

Driving to the airport, he phoned Amanda. “Don’t marry him.” She should only marry someone she couldn’t stand not marrying. But under no circumstances should she marry Freddie.

And God knows, she really and truly shouldn’t have.

(Click here to read the next episode.)

Comments

[Dan Leo]

What a perfect closing sentence to this chapter.

[Bosco]

A perfect closing sentence for every chapter so far! I only hope that eventually, Amanda will get it right. (Although, I think it was smart not to sleep with Walter)

[Kathleen]

Dan and Bosco, You think so? The last sentence breaks the rule about unnecessary qualifiers three times. I couldn't figure out how else to do it.
And Bosco, smart or not, Amanda regrets her balkiness.