Story #2

Here's a story I started many years ago and still haven't finished. This one is only about 20 pages long so far, and here's an excerpt for you:



"Hello?”
“Hi…Is Steve there?” a voice said softly and hesitantly.
“No, he’s not. May I ask who’s calling please?” It wasn’t often that I picked up calls from women asking for my husband. He had his own line for business calls.
“Um…Tonya. Listen, could you, um, have him call me back as soon as he can?” I told her to wait while I got a pencil and paper and then she gave me her number. But I didn’t really register this because I think I was in shock. Tonya? His ex-girlfriend, whom he hasn’t seen or spoken to in years? My knees felt weak, my mind whirring with reasons why she would be calling us. And how did she get our number, anyway? It’s unlisted and only a few people have it.
I thought about calling Steve, but decided to wait and tell him in person. Partly to see what his reaction would be to the message.
I tried to get back to my work, but I couldn’t concentrate on it. I’m a graduate student, and I pretty much spend most of my time at home writing papers or reading textbooks. Or watching the “kids,” as I call them. Our two miniature dachshunds who are always finding some way to get themselves into trouble.
I don’t know how I managed to pass the time until Steve got home from work two hours later, but I can tell you that my mind didn’t stop wondering for a second. I’m an intensely curious person, but also slightly paranoid and insanely jealous. I can never shut my mind off, it just thinks all the time, which is probably the major reason why I’ve suffered from insomnia for as long as I can remember. So you can imagine how crazy I was driving myself with my racing thoughts. Usually my vivid imagination concocts wild stories to explain things like this, but this time I couldn’t come up with any. I just had no idea why she would be calling. Of course there was the possibly that he was cheating on me, but I dismissed that right away. First, I pretty much always know where my husband is. Second, being the curious detective-type I am, something like that would never be able to be slipped past me. Pretty much everything my husband has ever tried to hide from me, I’ve found out. Including using some superior sleuthing abilities to find my hidden engagement ring.
The minute Steve came in I rushed up to him with the post-it message. “You’re not going to believe this…And you have some explaining to do. Guess who called for you today?”
“I don’t know, who?” he had that irritated look, the one he gets when he’s had a bad day or when he’s irked that I can’t even let him get settled before I spring stuff on him.
“Tonya.” The reaction I had waited for so long occurred. His eyes got huge, and he almost dropped the briefcase he was holding. His mouth dropped open, pretty much completing his shocked look.
“Do you want to tell me what this is all about? I’ve been dying here wondering why she would be calling you!” I was speaking almost breathlessly, rushing out my words to try to match the speed the thoughts flew threw my head. Of course my own paranoia had also been making me nuts all afternoon long. Is he cheating on me? What’s going on behind my back? Is there something I don’t know about? He must be hiding something from me. What isn’t he telling me? Does he still love her? What if he wants to leave me?
Tonya was Steve’s first serious relationship. He was only 17, she was 19, but it was one of those relationships that you remember forever because well, it was his first one. He lost his virginity to her. And what’s more, he had gotten her pregnant. She was a freshman in college when it happened, and was perfectly willing to do the marriage and baby thing with him. In fact, she actually sort of tricked him into getting her pregnant, using his naiveté about birth control to her advantage. But Steve was still in high school, and I don’t think he was really in love with her. Oh, at that time I’m sure he thought he was, just as we all used to confuse that lusty infatuation feeling with love when we were young. Or maybe it was just the sex. But Steve callously told her how it was: he didn’t want to get married, mostly just not to her, and he wasn’t ready to be a father. He demanded her to get an abortion, and reluctantly, she agreed. And that was pretty much it for them. Oh, except for that they stayed together just long enough after that for Tonya to become involved with Steve’s best friend (or maybe it was really his baby?). So he really ultimately left her because she cheated on him…kinda makes me wonder what would have happened otherwise.
He hasn’t spoken to her or seen her since, although I have, ironically enough. I actually ended up going to the same undergrad college she was at, and had a class or two with her. One time my best friend found her unconscious in the bathroom at school and probably saved her life. I regret to admit that I was with Summer at that time, and I wouldn’t have helped her. I even urged Summer not to. That’s what a hateful, jealous person I am. Thinking back on it gives me chills, because she might have died, and I wouldn’t have saved her. It makes me feel like a murderer.
And why did I hate her so much? I didn’t even know her, really. I hated her just because she was Steve’s ex-girlfriend, that she had shared the same secret intimate things with him that I have, and because he loved her. But I hate her even more because I feel like she stole something from me. The child that they created, in my crazy viewpoint, was Steve’s first baby. That’s something you can never erase. Maybe some other girls wouldn’t have been bothered by that. But again, maybe I’m just a little bit more neurotic or closer to the psychotic edge than most. Because that really bothered me for the longest time. Now in the almost six years that we’ve been together, I’ve had other things to replace that burning nuisance in my mind. But it still lurks around back there, sometimes rearing it’s head and demanding me to chew on it for awhile. Like now, for instance.
Steve pulled me out of my reverie by responding that he had no idea why she would be calling. Did I really believe him?
“Well, call her and find out what she wants!” I went and picked up our portable phone and shoved it toward him. He still looked shocked, and maybe even afraid. As if he didn’t want to know, and he certainly didn’t want to call her.
But on this issue, his curiosity was as strong as mine. He put down his work stuff, took off his suit jacket, and sat down on the couch with the phone and the post-it note. Slowly, he punched in the numbers and then held the phone awkwardly to his head, as if it was hot like a stove burner and would scorch his ear. I noticed that he didn’t look at me. He didn’t want to see the angry, you-better-not-have-done-anything look on my face, didn’t want to meet my eyes. Did that infer guilt?
I saw his expression change and assumed she must have picked up the phone. Just as hesitantly as she had, he said hello and asked if he was speaking to Tonya. Then nothing but silence for several minutes as he listened to what she was saying.
Meanwhile, I think I was going even more crazy. Plus, my heart was fluttering in my chest and my palms were getting clammy. I was nervous, worried. Driving myself batty with my speeding synaptic transmissions. His expressions weren’t helping at all, either. Steve looked like he was going to pass out. If I thought he had looked shocked before, I was wrong. That was only surprise. This was flat out systemic disbelief. It almost appeared like he was withering, deflating in size, shrinking into the deep plum cushions of our oversized couch.
Finally, he croaked out some words. “Umm…I don’t know…about that…” But then she must have gone back to talking some more, because that was all he said for another few minutes.
What could possibly fluster my husband so much? The man was like marble. Well, maybe more like one of those porous rocks. He is actually pretty sensitive and emotional, and not a complete Neanderthal. But he was like that only with me. He would never let people get to him, or show others his true colors. He takes everything very rationally, logically, or sometimes with a rebellious “I don’t care, it’s not my business” kind of attitude. She must have been telling him something totally profound for it to have such an effect on him. And of course that only made me more distraught.
“Well, I still don’t know…I need some time…” Another minute of silence, then a hopeless sounding sigh and an okay, and he hung up. I waited for him to look up at me, to start spilling all the details, but he only sat in thick, tense silence and hung his head. Was he crying? Being the modern caveman that he is, he does cry occasionally if something really gets to him.
“So, are you going to fill me in or what?” I asked impatiently.
“You don’t want to know” was all he said, without looking up.