“No, Penny,” he said. And then he turned toward Third Avenue. “I have errands to run. Do you think you can catch a cab home?”
“Sure,” I said icily.
I watched him walk away, all tense and angry. The woman came back ten minutes later, as promised, and recovered her baby boy. And I was left standing alone wondering if Dexter’s insistence about not wanting children symbolized something deeper about his past, or if it was simply that he didn’t want children with me.
“Well,” I say, disappointed, pushing the memories deeper into my mind. I place my hand on Dex’s knee, but he stands up, bristling at my touch. “I guess I thought you’d be a little more . . . pleased.”
Dex rubs his chin and paces the floor in a way that makes my heart beat faster. “My Penny,” he says finally, smiling in a strange way. He doesn’t look like the Dexter I know. His expression is mocking and his eyes are wild, like they’ve been lit with a torch. “I never even suspected it.” I hardly recognize his voice.
“Don’t be afraid,” I say, hoping to calm him down. After his revelation about Roxanne, of course he’d be nervous about becoming a father again. That’s only natural. I’ll have to ease his fears. I’ll have to convince him that he’s up for the job. “Darling, you’ll be great with the baby. This is fate’s way of giving you a second chance at fatherhood. You can get it right this time. Maybe he’ll be an artist like you.” I giggle nervously. “We could get him one of those little easels for children. Can you imagine, Dex? A little boy painting beside you in the studio?” I feel a surge of happiness then. The thought of a child, my child, fills me with deep contentment. No matter what, I will not be alone. I will have a purpose.
He laughs to himself. “You really think you can try to deceive me?”
I shake my head. “Deceive you?” My heart is racing now. What is he saying?
He stands up and walks to the door. “I should have known. Tom told me that his mother-in-law saw you on the streetcar, that you were with someone and the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. It was only fair that I’d grant you one indiscretion, given all of mine.” He laughs to himself again.
All of his indiscretions? What about the sentiments he expressed earlier? “Dex, but I thought you—”
He looks at me like I’m a stranger. “A tryst? Fine. A midnight fling? Sure. I’ve had them. But darling, you’ve gotten yourself pregnant.” He shakes his head. “This is unforgivable. You see, my dear Penny, I had a vasectomy before we were married.” His words are cold and searing at the same time. “Let me spell it out for you, love: I can’t have children anymore.” He shakes his head at me, then smiles again, an angry, intense smile. “But whoever the lucky chap is, be sure to give him my congratulations.”
The door slams closed and the sound reverberates in my ears. Tears sting my eyes. I don’t know what to feel, what to do. The cramping in my abdomen is more intense now, and I double over. Mama never said that pregnancy hurts so much. I lean back in the chair until the pain subsides a bit. I need some air and decide to sit on the back deck until I figure out what I’ll do. When I open the closet to reach for my sweater, Dex’s coat falls to the floor. A prescription pill bottle rolls out of the inside pocket. I collect it and read the label: “Take twice daily for depressive episodes.” I’m not surprised that his psychiatrist would prescribe medication for his depression. He needs it. I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve seen him hover in the darkness before sunrise, weeping, lost in his sadness. My eyes widen when I see who the prescribing psychiatrist is. “N. Clyde.” I gasp. Naomi Clyde. My God, he’s been seeing Naomi all this time.
In the next moment, I piece together what should have been obvious all along. The looks. Her coldness toward me. All the talk of his psychiatrist. Of course they’re having an affair. I shiver and slip my arms through the sleeves of my wool sweater, pulling it tight around my body.
I don’t realize that I’ve been crying until I step outside for air and see Jimmy sitting cross-legged, alone, at the edge of the dock. He should have been asleep hours ago. But then I hear the sound of laughter and loud music coming from the top of the dock and realize that the party is still going strong.
“What’s wrong, Penny?” he asks, walking toward me. He’s holding a rubber ball, and his face is clouded with concern.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I lie. He’s too young to hear of my troubles. I can’t begin to tell him the mess my life is in. Instead, I stare up at the stars sparkling overhead, and I think of how foolish I am. I stayed for Dexter, but he scorned me, and now the man who loves me—the man who loves me so much he promised to love me even if he had only half my heart—is drifting out alone to sea, without me.