The Secret Sex Life of a Single Mom Read Online Free PDF Page A

is she nodding, I thought, confused. “Yes. That’s him, Delaine. That’s Graham. I know him. The girl he got pregnant is also my friend. The one we went running with.”
    Time stood still. I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t possible. This was preposterous. We talked a bit more . . . a few more details she
couldn’t have known, like his children’s names. Everything she said was true. How could she know? Oh my God, oh my god, please don’t make it true! My body was shaking and my stomach heaved upward, pressing my heart, my soul, my future against the back of my throat. I was sure I would vomit and never stop. My son! I have to pick up my son . . . yes, there he is, smile at him, hold his hand, walk home . . . Fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck. RUN! sobbed my body and my head. Fucking run . . .
    But there was nowhere to run, and no one to run to. And thus, as my son and I made our way home, past rows of minivan moms shoveling backpacks and kids into cars, I felt my heart explode in my chest.
    I settled the kids with the baby sitter as quickly as possible then retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. There, on the shower mat, I curled against the despair and let my body do its best to purge itself of pain. Then, a single unrelenting thought possessed me: I have to confront him . Absolutely nothing else mattered besides that thought. I stepped into the shower, washing the film of tears off my face, and went through the motions of making myself look pretty. I got in my minivan, feeling oddly tethered, and drove to his work.
    When I saw his truck in the parking lot, a fresh wave of anguish enveloped me: How many times had I ridden beside him in that truck, holding his hand? I wondered. I parked beside it. And waited.
    I saw him before he saw me, his tall frame filling up the glass door as he exited.
    I waited until he’d opened the door to his truck before I marched up to him on legs that were void of sensation. “You owe me an explanation.”
    He smiled brightly— very surprised. “What’re you doing here?” he said, looking confused. “And what are you talking about?” He was shaking his head, apparently clueless.

    “You owe me an explanation. About Melissa.”
    In the flash of a second, his face turned grey and his demeanor stiffened. “Get in,” he ordered. “We can’t do this here.” He drove to the furthest side of the lot and parked.
    At first he denied it. Then he minimized it and left out important facts. But I knew to dig deeper, to hunt for lies—visions of Robert’s lame-assed confession loomed in my mind; kind of sick it had unfolded in his truck, too. Eventually, I had Graham confirm almost everything Sara had told me.
    Finally, a moment of pause, no tears. As we sat there, the sky dark around us, rain started pouring down on the windshield. I looked down at my hands and my knotted up tissues. The tears recommenced flowing, heavily but silently.
    I turned and looked at him, my voice raw with hurt. “How could you? How could you do this to me? All I’ve ever done is love you and show you how much I love you. After all that you know about me, after knowing I just went through this with Robert, how could you ? ”
    More than anything, I needed an answer. Let him tell me something self-analytical, something comforting, something insightful and rational.
    But he just sat there, his jaw stiff, staring out the window. Rain poured down.
    “You’ve been having sex with another woman and she’s about to have your baby . You’ve deliberately kept my life on hold. You should have told me, you should have set me free. Why didn’t you? Why ?”
    His face was a torment of emotions, but he remained silent.
    “Answer me!” I half yelled, half choked.
    “I didn’t know how to tell you!” he blurted. “I didn’t know how because I have no balls, okay? I have no balls . I’m sorry, Delaine. I swear I do love you. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

    And that was it. That was all he could