Chasing Us (Dark Love 2)

The realization that the control of my life is taken away is the biggest burden I now carry. Outside in the cool night, the rain starts to pour as I stand there unable to move, unable to decide the simplest thing—where do I go now? Maybe it’s hours later, maybe it is minutes, but somehow, I find the strength to lift my arm enough to hail a cab. The yellow cab with its bright lights pulls up, and I climb in.

“Where to, buddy?”

The question is simple, but I stare blankly at him. He asks again, this time with a lot less patience.

“JFK.”

The driver remains quiet, listening to his music as the city passes by in a clouded haze. My mind has turned numb, not even processing our approach nor his first warning to pay the fare, then get the hell out of the cab.

Inside the terminal, the huge black television screen with all the flight information listed is spread out before me. I stand there reading every line, memorizing the destinations, flight numbers, and times. I don’t know how long it’s been after I arrived that a large gentleman in a security uniform walks toward me.

“Sir, is there a reason why you’ve been standing here for over an hour?”

An hour, time was lost on me.

The baby isn’t mine.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.” I walk toward the counter to be greeted by an over-friendly woman.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The baby isn’t mine.

“Where is your next plane going?” I ask.

“Excuse me?”

“I want a ticket on your next flight to wherever it’s going,” I answer, defeated.

“Um, sir… that’s an unusual request.”

I see her make eyes at the security guard. “Maybe, but the woman I have loved for nine years told me tonight she’s pregnant with someone else’s baby, so perhaps you can understand my need to get the hell out of this city?”

Pursing her lips, her expression turns into one of compassion. I don’t need a pity party, I simply need to get out of here.

“We have a flight leaving in an hour to Alaska, sir.”

“That’s fine, I’ll take that.”

“The last-minute fare on this ticket is twenty-one hundred dollars.” She searches my face, waiting for me to tell her it’s a ridiculous price like I give a shit about money. I pull my Amex out of my wallet and pass it to her. She takes it, surprised by my lack of consideration for money wasted.

The baby isn’t mine.

How can it be his?

“Here’s your boarding pass, sir. Flight 793 boards from Gate 11 in approximately thirty minutes.”

She hands me my boarding pass, and I walk away in search of the gate. Finding it, I sit in an isolated section of the lounge.

The baby isn’t mine.

How can it be his?

Was she fucking him the whole time?

My Charlotte, my wife, is carrying another man’s baby.

There’s nothing but white noise in my head, but I sit here silently, still numb, staring into space waiting desperately to board the plane to take me anywhere but here.