‘It was strange. It was weird. It was Deja Vue,’ Charles wrote under the words, ‘Dear Candice.’
‘When Teresa came home yesterday I was reading an article about unwanted pregnancies. It wasn’t a particularly interesting article. In fact, I was dozing off when Teresa walked in.’
“Guess what, Honey,” she said as she was taking her coat off.
‘Deja Vue,’ I thought. ‘Deja Vu. Strange she should use the word, honey . She never calls me honey. It was as if she knew I almost made a peanut butter and honey sandwich for lunch today but decided on bean soup instead.’ I was drowsy and thinking stupid stuff.
“I was reading a report this morning…” she went on.
‘There you go,’ I thought. ‘Reading. I’m reading. She was reading. She never tells me about what she reads at work. It’s always Joe does this and Beverly did that or another crazy customer.’ It was sorta weird I would say.’
“It was about the overpopulation of immature bank accounts in our system.”
‘I had no idea what to say to that, and she was looking at me as if she was expecting me to say something. What do you say to that? I have no idea what an immature bank account is. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. I thought she wanted me to ask, but I said to myself, ‘Don’t ask. I’m not going to ask. She’ll have to explain and it will take too long and be so boring she’ll stop and say “Am I boring you?” and I’ll say, “No, no, no, just carry over from my magazine. It’s a little boring, you know.’
“And the phone rang,” she was saying. “Talk about over population…”
Now, this is where it got weird. There was this look on her face as if she was trying to mislead me as if she was trying to get me thinking about over population in general because she was going to spring something on me. For a moment I think she knew and for a moment I really wanted to know who she was talking to.
“It was the clinic, she says. “You know, Doc Manders, my gynecologist…”
I must have breathed a sigh of relief that she misinterpreted because this big smile out of nowhere swept across her face, but just before the smile there was a flicker of something as if she thought I knew what she was talking about.
“And he said, ‘I’ve got some very good news. At least I think it’s good news. The tests came back, and you’re pregnant!'”
Of course, I wasn’t hearing what she was saying because I wasn’t hearing what I thought she was saying. So I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying as I said it. As you know, she and I haven’t really been doing it. At least not much. Not enough for me to remember, if at all. So I blurted out, “Who’s the father?”
Her smile disappeared. The look on her face told me I’d said something terrible, something dreadful, something that shouldn’t even be considered. So, I tried to cover it up, tried to fix things.
“Just kidding,” I said, trying to act all excited. “That’s great, that’s terrific, that’s fantastic.” And I jumped out of the chair, rushed over and hugged her, hugged her tight.
She hugged me back, but she could tell. I know she could. She knew. It wasn’t unexpected, but it was unwanted.