Clean Slate

by Harley Crowley

Chapter 32

  Clouds were boiling in the sky and a storm raced toward them. It was pitch dark by 5:30. The kitchen felt like a warm cave. He'd turned on the lamps in the living room and found a Beethoven CD in the rack next to the sound system and slid it into the slot. The music drifted in through the kitchen door and he let himself sink into it as he prepared a sauce for the stir fry and boiled the water for noodles, tore up greens for a salad, mixed a vinegar and oil dressing. He noticed again how automatic and efficient his motions were while he worked. It was good to feel competent, and to be doing something for Carrie. Maybe he would volunteer to cook all their meals while he was on sick leave.

  He was setting the kitchen table when Carrie came in, holding her hands behind her back and stretching. He tamped down the fear of losing her, and moved towards her, kissed her lightly on the cheek. She didn't flinch. He resisted the urge to grab her and hold her to him. It might be his last chance.

  They ate mostly in silence, but Brian felt that they were together in the silence, a pair, a couple. He could have gone on like this forever. The wind pounded the rain against the window in sharp gusts, and the branches of the trees at the bottom of the garden whipped back and forth violently.

  He cleared the table while Carrie sat back in her chair, her hand moving in circles around her stomach, looking at it with a tender little smile. It was a picture he wanted to hold on to forever.

  "Another glass of wine?"

  "Just a few sips."

  He brought the bottle to the table and poured for them, re-corked it and put it back on the counter. He sat down and realized he was shaking. He held his glass in both hands to keep them calm.

  "Carrie, I have to tell you something. Something I've found out. It's not a good thing." He watched her face as she looked at him with curiosity. "Maybe you already know."

  She shook her head. "No, I don't think so." Her eyebrows knit together in a little frown. She was waiting.

  He'd been holding his breath, hoping that it wouldn't be necessary to tell the whole thing, that she had at least part of the story already, or suspected it. The deep breath he took was ragged, and he could feel his pulse racing in anxiety.

  "There is a woman at work. Her name is Katherine. Do you know her?"

  Carrie still looked puzzled, but a wariness was there too. "No." She was preparing for the next thing he would say.

  "According to Katherine," and he grabbed another breath and started over. "According to Katherine, we've been involved."

  Carrie sat upright. She was totally concentrated on him now.

  "You're having an affair." Her tone was level, emotionless.

  "If she's not lying. Yes, that's what she said. I mean, I was. I'm not now!" He dropped his face away from her to look at his hands on the stem of his glass, then looked up again with a plea for time.

  "Why would she lie?"

  He couldn't read her face. "I think she's that kind of person. But no, I don't really think she's lying. I just wish she was."

  "But you don't remember it. Do you remember her? You've talked to her?"

  "I don't remember her at all. Yes, I've seen her. She kept leaving messages on my cell phone and I met her yesterday morning at a coffee shop. I told her I didn't remember her and that whatever had happened between us was finished. She's not easy to convince. I think she's a little off."

  Carrie slumped her shoulders back against her chair and spread her fingertips to her forehead, her hand covering her face. He couldn't see her expression. That was probably the point.

  "How long?"

  "I'm not sure. I think less than a month. I can't imagine why it happened. She . . . she's not the sort of woman I . . . I'd be attracted to." What sort of woman might he be attracted to, he wondered, if he had Carrie. And if he didn't have Carrie any more, maybe he didn't care what sort of woman it was. Any woman would do. Or no woman at all.

  She was silent. Her fingers were still on her forehead, her face obscured.

  "Carrie? Carrie, say something."

  She dropped her hand from her face and he could see that her eyes were damp, but her face was still impassive.

  "Carrie, is this what I do? Do I have affairs? Is that the sort of man I am? Because I can't stand knowing that I did this to us."

  "No, I don't think you ever have." She looked out the window, and he caught her eyes looking at him in their reflections. She turned back to him.

  "You've had plenty of chances. Women like you. They put on displays when you're around. They go a little nuts." She didn't seem to be sarcastic. There was even a little flicker of a smile that came and went. Maybe it was a joke between them. Like with Carrie's student at the grocery store, her obvious come-on.

  But this wasn't funny, and her face had resolved into sadness.

  "I'm worried about this woman, Carrie. She's not being rational."

  "How do you mean?"

  "I mean she acts as if I haven't told her it's over. I mean she drives by the house. I saw her today when we were unloading your car. She's been here before. She said that in a phone message. I don't know what she might do."

  This was the worst of all, that his stupid mistake might now be a threat to Carrie's safety. Because Katherine was focused on Carrie now. Why hadn't he suspected there was something wrong with her? That she was unbalanced?

  There was something puzzling him.

  "Carrie, you said you didn't think I've done this before. Been unfaithful. And that you didn't know about this. Then what is it that's been wrong between us? Why do I sleep in the other room?"

  Carrie closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh. Her breath was ragged and now there were actual tears spilling. He watched as her face contorted in pain.

  "You moved out of our bedroom. I know you probably thought it was my idea. But it wasn't. It was your choice."

  "What? You didn't want me to?" He was startled, shocked. It was a completely new idea. "I moved out?" He stared at her, in wonderment. "Why?"

  Another long pause went by as Carrie collected herself. She blotted her tears with a napkin. He waited.

  "I didn't blame you. There was something . . . " Her voice trailed off. Then, "Something happened. I did something. You're not the only one who has done something stupid."

  "What did you do, Carrie? I can't imagine wanting to leave our bed." Our bed. He wanted their bed, he wanted to be as close to her as possible. He leaned forward and reached his hand across the table to touch her hand. She let it lay still under his. His fingers encircled her wrist to keep it there. He could feel her pulse beating fast against his fingertips.

  "It's so hard to tell you this over again."

  "It's all right. Tell me."

  Her voice was tight. "It was last June. There was an end of the semester faculty party at Dr. Jacobsen's house. He's the head of the department. You didn't want to go, and I was pissed at you. We hadn't been doing that much together because we were both so busy, and I was looking forward to it. But you'd brought work home, again." She shook her head. "That doesn't mean it was your fault. I'm the one to blame."

  "To blame for what?" He thought he knew where this was going. She started to pull her hand free but he held onto it and put his other hand on hers, and stroked it.

  "I got very drunk. I don't usually do that, but before I knew it I was way over the line. There was a band. I was dancing with this guy, a visiting professor in the department. He's gone now. I knew he liked me. I was feeling no pain, and I just let it happen."

  She stopped and looked into his eyes. More tears welled up and she wiped at the corners of her eyes with her free hand. She let her other hand stay in his.

  "Tell me, Carrie." His voice was gentle. It was strange to feel so close to her when she was telling him this. It was because she was so vulnerable, looked so sad and defeated. And he knew it was also because he had already forgiven her. It didn't even need forgiveness. It was as if this was just something that happened before he knew her. In a way it was none of his business
, what she'd done before they met, only a few nights ago. And there was also what he had done.

  "We went upstairs. I don't remember it very well. I remember being alone in the bedroom afterwards, looking at myself in the mirror, and not recognizing myself. And then I walked home, because I was too drunk to drive. You had fallen asleep on the couch and I didn't wake you up."

  "When did I find out about it?"

  "Later that night. You came to bed and wanted to make love, and I was so ashamed. I couldn't. You didn't understand, and I was still drunk, so I told you. I don't know if I would have told you if I'd been sober."

  "Is that when I moved out?"

  "No, that was later." Her face crumpled. "There's more."

  "What? Did you see him again? Did you sleep with him again?" He didn't know if he could handle that, even though he'd done the same.

  "No." She shook her head as if that was a ridiculous idea. "No. He went back to Minneapolis or wherever. I never heard from him again. I never wanted to." She was adamant. So what "more" was there?

  "Then what, Carrie? I couldn't forgive you?"

  "You forgave me, I think. You said so, anyway. You acted like it was behind us. But it wasn't."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The baby."

  "The baby?" He frowned, trying to understand, what about the baby? And then it connected and took hold. "This is his baby? You got pregnant from a one night stand?" There was a thunk in his chest; it felt like his heart had shifted.

  "No! I don't believe that! But it's not that simple. I'd quit taking birth control pills; we wanted a baby. We were making love a lot. And the next month I knew I was pregnant. It's just that there was a chance it could have been him. The timing."

  "Was that my idea or yours?"

  "You wanted to know. And I didn't. I didn't want to have them test the baby. I was sure it was yours. I know she's ours. If you want to have tests done after she's born, then I won't stop you. But not while she's still here, inside me." She pulled her hand free of his and wrapped her arms around her belly, protectively. "And not until you see her. You'll know then."

  Brian looked at her for a long time, and she was silent, looking straight back at him. He could see the determination, her chin jutted out a little, stubborn. He saw her conviction. He tried to imagine coming up against this force, and doing anything but losing the battle. Obviously it had mattered to him, a lot. He'd cared enough to move out of their room and into the lonely single bed in the guest room. To punish her. But he looked inside himself for some vestige of that insistence on knowing, and couldn't find it.

  She said they'd been making love, a lot. What were the odds? Why would he want to spoil everything, force her to find out who the biological father was? He must have been crazy.

  Her face had softened as he watched, and her expression changed to something more peaceful, something solid and confident. It was faith. She had so much faith, there was no reason to argue with it, if he had even wanted to argue. He couldn't imagine not believing her. And he thought he understood. One mistaken night, something that was nothing to her except maybe a shameful, foggy memory, didn't count, couldn't change the course of their lives. It didn't matter.

  He said it out loud.

  "It doesn't matter. You're sure. And I believe you. I do. I love you."

  And then there were tears in his eyes too, on the verge of falling.

  "But when your memory comes back. Maybe you'll feel different then."

  "I'll feel the same way. I know I will. Can you forgive me for being such a jerk?"

  She smiled a little at that.

  "You know, since you came home without your memory, you've been more like yourself than you've been in years. I think this is the real Brian. The so-called jerk you're talking about is gone."

  "Carrie, I've done so much to hurt you. And now there's this Katherine thing. I don't remember why I did it. I can't imagine doing it. And that's no excuse, I know that. I'm not saying that."

  Carrie looked at him intently, as if puzzling something out. "It's funny, but it seems like you're talking about someone else. Like someone else had the affair, not you."

  "That's what it feels like. That some stupid egomaniac trying to prove something took over. But that's too easy. It's like saying I'm not responsible for my own behavior because I don't remember."

  "You're a lawyer. You could argue that case."

  "I don't want to argue it. I don't want to be exonerated. I'll understand if you can't let it go. But Carrie, I want so much to be forgiven. I want you to love me again. Like in the pictures."

  "The pictures?"

  "The photos in the album. The pictures of us together. The way you looked at me. The way I looked at you."

  She shook her head vigorously. "I didn't stop loving you. I haven't stopped."

  He put his head down on his arms on the table.

  "Oh thank God." He started to cry. It caught him by surprise. And the surprise made him laugh. He looked up at Carrie sheepishly and then hid his face in his arms again and wiped the tears on his sleeve.

  "I'm such a baby."

  "Brian," she said.

  He looked up again. "What?"

  "Let's go to bed, okay?"