by
phair
Samuel sat staring at his desktop. His cell phone was still clutched in his hand. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. The pit in the bottom of his stomach seemed to be trying to inch its way closer to his mouth.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered to his empty office.
“Sam,” the gentle voice of his office manager called from the other room. “Hey Sam, lets get moving. We’ve got a gazillion talking points to review. Tomorrow you got that tour of the harbor islands and…, Sam? Hey Sam, reality is calling, you who…,”
“She’s pregnant,” he muttered when Heather walked into his office.
The tall, lean, and perfectly put together Heather blinked and shook her head in disbelief, “Who’s pregnant? Your sister, please say it’s your sister.”
Samuel tried to form words to respond but nothing came out. His mouth refused to cooperate.
“Oh no! Don’t tell me it’s that chick you picked up last night!”
“It’s been a couple of months and I didn’t just pick her up,” Samuel blurted out his defense. “We were introduced at the July Fourth party in Dover. We’ve seen each other ever week since. It’s not like a one night stand or something sleazy like that.”
Heather’s reply was clipped and pointedly direct, “And, it’s not like you’re happily married and settled down and ready to raise children. For Cripes sake Sam, you’re a conservative Republican in a Democrat state! You’re supposed to be different. You’re supposed to have some morals about you. Your supposed to stand for something!”
Sam hung his head. Heather was right. He based his career on the character failures of others. Sam climbed his way up the political ladder with charm and a flawless reputation. Set against a sea of hard edged and dubious politicians, Sam presented himself as a noble knight for a generation starved of a strong and manly image to look up to as a role model.
“Crap,” Samuel muttered without looking up at his associate and friend. “I wonder if Heather will still be my friend now, after this kind of a screw up,” he thought as he chanced a glance at the clearly angry woman.
“Okay, let’s just relax and look at our options,” Heather was saying aloud the calming thoughts inside her own head. “I know some folks. Folks with resources. Ample financial resources. We’ll give this girl money and she can go away and get an abortion.”
Samuel was truly horrified. “No, we won’t! We’re not actually going to do anything. I’m going to do…,”
“What Sam? What are you going to do?” Heather stood with her hands on her hips.
“I’m going to do the right thing.”
Heather laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Sam was indignant.
“You don’t think getting married is going to fix anything do you? She probably doesn’t even want to keep the kid. Get a grip, Sam. This ain’t the fifties.”
Sam stood and frowned at Heather. Maybe he was wrong about this woman he worked with for the last four years. Maybe she was not his friend at all. It seemed she was not thinking about him at all when he needed her to think only about him. He was in personal crisis and she was strictly worried about managing a professional liability. Apparently, she was only worried about her job.
“I need to go talk to her. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam said as he grabbed his keys.
“Tell her to do the really right thing, Sam,” Heather advised to his retreating back.
Sam grimaced as he pulled up the parking brake of his Ford truck. It was too loose. He needed a brake job and he needed it soon. He just needed fifteen hundred dollars in his checking account first. He was a long way from having that amount of cash in his personal account. Each step he was about to take up the stone walkway to white duplex with black shutters would put him another step further away from financial security. A cartoon image appeared in his head of his bare feet crashing through the floor boards of his truck to stop for a red light.
“I wanted to be Abe Lincoln and now I’d be lucky to be fuckin’ Fred Flintstone,” he grumbled and climbed out of the truck.
He forced himself to walk slowly. He wanted to run for the door and pound away like a lunatic until she answered but he could not allow himself to give into his panic. There was always somebody with a cell phone camera ready to snap a picture. John Q Public was always watching for an ‘event’ to digitally capture and send viral.
Sam could not afford that kind of publicity. He was at the beginning of a promising political career. It was shaping up to be a massive success. His run for the state senate was on a shoe string budget with only volunteers manning his campaign office in the garage of his home. Yet, he won in a landslide. His message of person responsibility and accountability at every level of government resonated with voters.
But here he was, not a year later, standing on the doorstep of his future. He did not know if his political future could withstand the weight of an out of wedlock pregnancy. He didn’t know if his head could stand the burden of an instant family. All he knew for sure was, he had to see her. He had to see her right now. Samuel Washington Lincoln Allerton knocked on the door to his future.
“Haven’t you done enough!”
Sam rolled his eyes before gritting his request through tightly clenched teeth. “I would like to speak with Rachael, please.”
The stout woman with spiked, bleached blonde hair stood blocking the entry way. “I think you have done more than enough. You should leave.”
“I would like to speak to Rachael, please,” Samuel repeated and clenched his fists.
“You always do what you like, don’t you? You like to tell people how to live, so you become a Nazi representative in the state house. You like to bully poor people so you block appropriations for social services, you like to…,”
Sam interrupted the stream of consciousness and stated a little louder than the first two times, “I’d like to speak to Rachael, please.”
The woman in the doorway hiked up her droopy sweat pants and continues her well thought out speech, “You are so used to getting your way. Having your needs met. Watching the world bow and scrape for your every beck and call. Well, not anymore. I’m taking a stand! You won’t get away with abusing my friend. Forcing her to do your bidding…,”
“Forcing? Lady, you’ve got some nerve!” Sam lost his grip and shouted. “I didn’t force her. I, we were dating. We’re in a relationship. We are consenting adults.”
“Consenting?” The woman shrieked and shoved her glasses back into place with her middle finger. “Women can’t consent on a man’s playing field. Woman have been programmed to obey. Women must conform or be punished. All forms of heterosexual activity at tantamount to rape.”
“You are a screwball, Karla!” Sam screamed.
“Fascist!”
“Fathead!”
“Predator!”
“Deviant!”
“Coward!”
The word stopped Sam cold. He tried to calm himself with a deep breath. He was shaken to the core. His hand trembled as he lifted it to loosen his tie.
The woman smirked at him. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“I would like to speak to Rachael, please.”
A voice called from the upstairs, “Karla, is that Sam?”
Karla’s shoulders sagged a little, “Yes.”
“Sam, come on up,” the last word was cut off by a gagging noise.
Sam didn’t wait for Karla to invite him in. He hurried passed the woman and bounded up the stairs. The bathroom door was slightly ajar. He could see Rachael on her knees in front of the toilet.
“Oh, babe,” Sam whispered as he pushed the door open.
Rachael glanced up at him. It was a brief look before heaves overtook her body again. She gasped and wretched and gasped some more. Sam hurried over and put his cool palm against her forehead. She almost melted into his hold. Sam squatted next to her and let her shift her weight against him. He could feel every gag and every shudder tear through her body. Never in his life had he felt more guilty.
“I’m so sorry,” he hushed against her sweaty hair.
“I’m okay,” Rachael choked but managed to snag some toilet paper and wipe her mouth.
The two of them stood slowly. Each leaning into the other. Sam was startled when Rachael pulled away to flush the toilet. He was not ready to let her go.
“Just let me brush my teeth,” her voice was thick.
Sam nodded but didn’t leave the room. He stood behind her and watched. She seemed so frail hanging over the sink. Her body trembled with her efforts. Sam wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and take her home with him.
“Okay, I need to lay down. I feel kind of crummy,” Rachael said after she hung her toothbrush back up.
Sam nodded and followed her. Rachael walked down the long hall to her bedroom. She didn’t so much get into bed as she crawled under the covers. Sam climbed in behind her.
“Can’t you leave her alone for a minute?” Karla’s voice held an accusation of something worse.
Sam stiffened but Rachael answered first. “Karla, could you give us some time to talk. Thank you for helping me out this morning. You’re a good friend but Sam and I need to work some things out.”
Karla was reluctant to leave but agreed with a stipulation, “If you need anything, just scream. I have mace and 911 on speed dial.”
Rachael chuckled, “Thanks but I don’t think it will come to that. Good to know I have back up though.”
Sam waited for the stocky woman to leave closing the door behind her. “She’s a piece of work.”
“She’s been hurt. She doesn’t want people she cares about to be hurt. You two should make an effort to talk to each other instead of at each other,” Rachael advised.
“I’m not here to talk to her,” Sam clarified. “I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” Rachael cuddled up to him.
“What are you going to do?” Sam blurted out the words.
“What?”
“Well, about this,” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word baby. “What are you doing about it?”
“Me?” Rachael eased away from Sam and looked into his eyes.
Sam opened the top button of his shirt in an effort to relieve the smothering feeling cramping his lungs. “I just mean…you know…it’s your body. What are you gonna do about it?”
He knew it sounded bad. It didn’t come out like that when he practiced in his car on the ride over. Usually, he was an eloquent speaker. He was able to charm and sway his audience like no orator in the last decade. It was something that came naturally to him. But, not today. He realized by the look on Rachael’s face he’d blown the most important speech of his life.
“You’d better leave.”
“Wait, I mean, we, or you, or…,”
“Sam, go,” Rachael pointed to the bedroom door as thunder cracked.
“That was really dramatic,” Sam observed quietly.
Rachael frowned. “Don’t try your cute routine on me. I’m not in the mood. Just go. Go now!”
Rachael ended any further conversation by rolling over in the bed. She pulled the comforter up over her head with a humph. Sam was left staring at her back.
“Leave Sam. Don’t make me call Karla in here.”
Sam hopped off the bed and headed for the door without a backward glance.
