too late (english)
∼ Too Late ∼
She was just beautiful. Her long and curly black hair accentuated her glowing green eyes and the soft red lips. A little strand of hair tickled her face, but it was interrupted by her loving hand. This whole female body was full of passion and he watched her with affection. There she stood – knowing how much he loved her – preparing the dinner and with a lot of innocence in her more than amazing eyes.
While he watched her, his loving sight often deviated from her face to the eye-catcher below. Her belly showed that there was something happening nearly eight months ago. Even during the circumstances of the pregnancy there was always this extraordinary sparkle in her eyes that he loved so much. Although there were doubts…
“Are you alright, darling?” she asked. In this second his daydream ended and he dropped back to reality again.
“Sure…can I help you with the sauce?” A few minutes later they had dinner and the daily routine returned. Also in his mind.
How should he handle this? Such a little white envelope with that damn power inside. His trembling hands wanted to open the letter, but he was too frightened. This information could destroy his whole life.
It was half past seven in the evening and she would arrive in at least one hour. He had to open the envelope, because he needed that hour to handle the result. Whatever. With a fast heartbeat and sweaty hands, he opened the letter and read through the words of medical speech. There it was. A tiny word, just seven letters. Printed by an intern or a secretary, but for him, this word means everything. >impotent<
»Not his baby. Another man touched her. She never told him. He has been so proud. She had another man. She was a damn cheater. Thank god, he made this secret test. She was a damn whore. Another man was in her. She was a fucking liar. She had to pay for this…«
He needed nearly 30 minutes to calm down and breathe easy again. The arrangements he made for this kind of result were more than cruel, but cheating and lying meant – for him – almost the same.
“Paul? I need your help. I told you… Half past eight at Kensington Street. The black Landrover, alright? You will get your money…. Thanks.” he said and hung up the phone. The empty tins of beer on the table, the cigarette in his right hand and that frightful fire burning in his eyes, he sat down on the sofa – waiting. The wall clock filled the room with its constant sounds. The smoke pervaded the air with a fragrance of danger. Sure, she was late this day. She might have missed the train. If not, something must have happened. Did the plan work out? Endurance. More endurance. Still a little more endurance. The flashy ringing phone woke him from calm melancholy.
“Mr. Mathers? Is it you?”
“South Nodington Central Hospital, Doctor Walkers here. I need to talk to you…I have bad news.”
“Is anything wrong with my wife? She did not return from work yet. I’m worried…”
“I’m sorry Sir, but your wife Valerie Mathers had an accident. A man found her in Kensington Street. She lost consciousness in the ambulance and we diagnosed cerebral hemorrhage and internal bleeding when she arrived here. I’m really sorry, Sir. We lost her 20 minutes ago during the surgery. I am really sorry to tell you… “
Jake hesitated. After a while, he started to ask for the circumstances and the baby. Dead. He had paid the man for this. Paul. It was only his appointment. His wonderful wife with this little bastard in her belly. Everything was his fault, but he seemed happy. Nobody would expect… For Jake, this was the chance to start a new life and to forget the damn cheating woman. Of course, he’d miss her for a while, but he’d get over it and move on. “Time for change”, he said. The little smile on his face showed that he was proud. Proud to be the winner of the fight against the damn other man. And of course against the bastard Valerie carried. He went to bed and his flush lulled him into a deep sleep.
The telephone rang. A bad headache welcomed him to his new life. Probably Paul wanted to discuss the finances… so he answered the phone.
“Did you receive a letter from the Institute of Genetics of Nodington this week?”
“We are so sorry… your letter is still on my desk. You received the results of Jake Masters. What a silly mistake – we hope you had no circumstances? We are really sorry… Let me tell you, that your sperm is absolutely alright – no more doubts and now you can tell your wife and plan for a family…”
He started to sweat. The receiver made no sound when it fell on the floor. The grey plastic broke and the battery slid over the tiling. There was no sound. Only a hushed voice he could not understand. The letters on the envelope on the table became blurred, but it was still possible to read the name “Masters” in black type. One fucking character. It was no typing error and no damn daydream. The hushing voice became louder. And louder. It almost screamed. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer!
It was too late.
∼ The End ∽