Dwellers of the Night: The Complete Collection (55 page)

She didn’t tell her parents immediately. Nearly six months later, she finally confessed to her parents the news regarding her relationship status. Her parents asked why she had waited so long to tell them, and she responded that she wasn’t sure if it was going to last. Summer was rapidly approaching, and the day before school ended, she and Patrick talked the entire night. The conversation turned to babies, and both she and Patrick confessed that they wanted to have children—the ultimate dream of a 7th grader. Both she and Patrick were virgins, but they both wanted to have a baby. She was heading to Mexico for a few months, and when they got back, they agreed that they would have sex and wear a condom, and then decide when to have a baby. When she returned from Mexico, 8th grade began. When January came, they were talking on the phone and decided they were ready to have sex for the first time. She snuck him into her room that night. Everyone was asleep, so they had to be quiet. She and Patrick went into her room. “Should we turn off the lights?” she asked. He wanted them on. She convinced him that they should be turned off, in case someone woke up and came into the room, wondering why the lights were still on. So he turned off the lights, and they stood there in the darkness looking at each other. No one said Anthony Barnhart

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anything, and she made the first move. Ten minutes later, they were both naked. He put his condom on, asked one last time, “Are you sure?” She said yes, and then he entered into her slowly. It hurt like hell, and she was about to cry. He saw it on her face, asked if she wanted to stop, and she shook her head,
No
. He went slowly, pausing every five minutes to ask if she wanted him to stop; her response was always the same. She wrapped her arms around him, and they continued. Footsteps were heard downstairs; her father had woken up. They quickly dressed, and she sent him out. They weren’t caught, but they were addicted. Over the next several months, they had sex constantly—even in the school bathroom (always using protection, of course). When she missed her period in March, she asked him to buy her a pregnancy test. The result came back positive. Terrified, suddenly realizing the scope of what had happened, she demanded another one to make sure. It, too, read
positive
. She didn’t tell him immediately; one weekend, they went to the park near the school, and she broke down in tears as they sat in the swings. He asked her what was wrong, and she confided, “I’m pregnant. Both the tests came out positive.” He was quiet for a little bit, and then he hugged her, told her everything would be okay. She cried even harder, joining her in the tears, and he kept repeating, trying to convince himself, “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay…”

He told his parents a few days later. They didn’t seem to care. She was terrified of telling her parents, so she went to the school counselor, explained her situation, and she asked for advice. The counselor recommended calling her mom while at school. The counselor called and left a message, and Sarah went back to class. The counselor called her from English, and she told her that her mom was on her way over. Her mother raced to the school, and when Sarah saw her, she fell into her arms, weeping. She told her mom what had happened, that she was pregnant, and her mom started crying along with her. She told her daughter, “I already know, Sweetie. I already know.” Sarah’s mom called her husband, and she was hysterical on the phone; Sarah’s father told her to calm down, that it wasn’t the end of the world, and in a few minutes he was at the school, too. Her dad told her to gather her things, they were leaving.

She grabbed her book-bag and went outside, sat on the bench in front of the school. Her parents stayed inside, talking, and then came out to get her. They loaded into their separate cars and drove to Wal-Mart, where he bought another pregnancy test. “Your mom wants to make sure.” She knew that her father was the one who wanted to make sure. She took the test:
positive
. They went to the doctor later that afternoon, and he told them that she was due in October. When her siblings found out, they jokingly called her
Juno
, but it provided some laughter amidst the trauma. That night, she had to use the restroom. When she sat down on the toilet to pee, she looked down at her underwear and saw brown gunk streaming from her vagina. She cleaned herself off and woke up her mom, showed her the panties. Her mom told her that sometimes during pregnancies, women will have the last of their periods. She went to sleep, and Sarah returned to her room and called her boyfriend. She started crying, knowing she could lose the baby. He cried with her, too, and eventually they fell asleep together on the phone. The next morning she missed school: she was bleeding all over her panties. She began feeling sick all day, and she went to the doctor’s, and he told her that it was a miscarriage. Her parents tried to cheer her up by taking her out to eat, but her stomach hurt so badly that she had to go back to the van and fell asleep in the back-seat. When morning came, the impact of the miscarriage struck her like a sledgehammer. She cried all day, and her mother took her to church where she went to confession and had anointing of the sick. She then went over to Patrick’s house. Her face had fallen, and he immediately knew what had happened. He embraced her tight, kissed her, cried with her. “I’m so sorry,” he kept telling her, and she knew he was telling the truth. Her summer was not the most enjoyable, but she Anthony Barnhart

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and Patrick stayed together. When they graduated high school many years later, they were married and began working towards their first child.

∑Ω∑

“Did you ever have a baby?” Rachel asks her.

Sarah shakes her head. “No. We never had a kid. I was infertile. It’s called Graves’ Disease. A malfunctioning of the thyroid gland. Whenever we would get pregnant, I would have a miscarriage. We kept trying, but… I started taking birth control pills. I couldn’t stand the thought of having another miscarriage. Each one tore me apart. I never told Patrick that I was taking the birth control pills. He had more faith in my womb than I did. It’s something that I regret… I knew he wanted a child so desperately, but… It just never happened. I didn’t want it to happen. And I hated myself for it. I
still
hate myself for it. I loved Patrick, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t give him what he wanted.”

Rachel is quiet. She rubs her stomach. “I’ve always wanted to have children.”

“And maybe you will,” Sarah says. “And it would be a blessing.”

“A blessing? It would be a crime to raise a child in this world.”

∑Ω∑

One of Patrick’s friends from his construction company in lower Cincinnati had invited them over for an Italian dinner. It was a double-date, and Sarah chatted it up with the man’s wife, a wonderful yet uptight woman named Clarice. The rain had fallen all day, strong storms sweeping through, so they had stayed indoors. After the delicious dinner of spaghetti with meatballs and a side plate of garlic bread and a few glasses of Italian Spumante, the conversation turned to how each couple had come together. Patrick explained how he and Sarah had met in Junior High, leaving out the details of the miscarriage: both he and Sarah refused to talk about it.

Patrick’s friend, an older man named Joe—whose wife was nearly fifteen years younger—, had a crude smile plastered over his face as he told the story of how he and Clarice had met. “So there I was in this club, desperately trying to pull some girls, and she walks in. A goddess! What the hell she saw in me, I don’t know. Any way, I bought her a few drinks, and one thing led to the next, and she invited me over to her place. Problem was, I really needed to take a dump, but asking her to wait while I went to the shitter didn’t seem like the right thing to do at the time. So… I sucked it up, and we jumped in a taxi to head back to her place. Twenty minutes later, we’re getting off with each other in her flat, and I just can’t hold it anymore, so I ask her if I can borrow her toilet for a second. She said it was fine, but she told me that she wants to take a shower first, so why don’t I wait for her in the bedroom. You see my predicament?” He grinned at his wife, resumed the story. “There I am with this sex kitten, but I need to shit, and I need to shit
bad
. Well, I couldn’t stop her from taking a shower, so I’m trying not to shake too much as I head into her room. I turn down the lights to make it nice and moody, kinda romantic, and I sit there on the bed imagining the pleasures that are sure to follow. But by now, I really have to go. I’m literally
dying
, trying to think of something I can do. And then it hits me! The greatest idea since lubricated condoms! I take off one of my socks, pull down my jeans and kegs, and I proceed to do the business in the sock. Unbelievably, I don’t spill a drop and by tying it up, I can use to the top to wipe my ass, too. After finishing up, then, the only problem I have to deal with is disposing with the dirty sock. I look around the room, but I’m unable to find suitable places to hide the offending garment for the time being. Then I see the window. I look out, and I see that after a small back yard, there’s a wall and beyond that a park. So I’m thinking to myself, ‘If I can make it Anthony Barnhart

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over the wall, I’m safe; no problem!’ I start swinging the sock around my head. Once! Twice! And then I let it
fly
. The sock sails over the wall and into the park. I feel as if I’ve scored the winning distance with the javelin throw in the Summer Olympics. Relieved and horny, I sit on the bed, take off the rest of my gear, and wait for the angel to come from the shower. I hear her finish, and she enters the room. She looks so fucking hot in the towel, and as she lowers it to the ground and turns on the light, her face turns from one of lust to one of horror. And do you know why?” He let his question sink in. Patrick was leaned forward; Sarah tried to hide the smile from her face, seeing Clarice shaking her head at her husband’s immaturity. Joe leaned back in the sofa, crossed his arms, shined like a god, said, “Splattered on all four walls was shit that must have leaked out through the sock while I was spinning it around my head!”

Patrick burst into laughter.

Joe gave him a high-five.

Sarah bit her lip, keeping her eye on Clarice.

Clarice spoke up. “He tells that story as if it’s as interesting as winning the lottery.”

Patrick demanded, “So what happened? Did she have sex with you?”

Sarah slapped her husband across the arm.

Joe sighed. “That night? No. She made me clean it up. She had me whipped before I even knew her last name.”

Clarice glared at him. “You
knew
my last name.”

“I was too drunk to remember.”

“Fantastic,” Clarice muttered under her breath.

“So what about you?” Joe asked, nodding to Patrick. “Any exciting sex stories?”

Clarice leapt in. “Don’t mind him. I think he’s had a few too many glasses of wine.”

“Have not,” Joe said with a heightened sense of sophistication.

His wife looked over at Sarah. “So are you guys going to have some children? You’ve been married for, what, five? six years? If you want kids, you’d better start trying soon.” She jokingly quipped, “That little biological clock of yours is ticking.”

Sarah’s face flushed a myriad of colors.

“Excuse me,” she said, standing.

She left the living room, disappearing into the kitchen.

There came the sound of a door sliding open and shut.

“Where’d she go?” Joe asked.

“Sounds like the balcony,” Clarice said. “Did I say something wrong?”

“She’s only twenty-six,” Patrick said. “And we’re trying. We just haven’t been… successful.”

“Oh,” Clarice said in a whisper.

“I’d better go talk to her,” Patrick said, standing.

He met her out on the covered balcony. She was leaning against the railing, looking out over the rolling hills. The air smelled of iron from the freshly-fallen rains, and lightning danced to the west, over the tree-covered hilltops. He stood next to her, took her hand in his, felt a few scarce raindrops tiptoe in his hair.

“She didn’t know,” he said.

Sarah nodded. “I know.”

“It’s not your fault, Sarah.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at the distant flashes of lightning.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

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Sarah shook her head. “You don’t know that. Not for sure.”

“Graves’ Disease isn’t your fault. It’s not a… defect… in any way.”

“It’s not that,” she said.

“Then what is it?” He pulled her towards him, looked into her eyes. “You can tell me.”

“I know you want to have a child.”

“And you don’t? It isn’t about how much we want one.”

She leaned against his shoulder, let him hold her tight. “I just want you to be happy.”

He kissed her neck, a soft and sweet kiss. “I
am
happy, Sarah. I’m happy
with you
. The miscarriages… They don’t change how I feel about you. I don’t see you any differently than on that day in 7th grade when I asked you out. You were beautiful then. You’re beautiful now. Even
more
beautiful. In 7th grade, I was attracted by your
outer
beauty. But now… The beauty is so much…

fuller. You’re outward beauty has only grown, and your inward beauty…
‘who you are’
… I love you, Sarah. You know that.” He hugged her tightly, kissed her once more on the forehead. “We can try again tonight.”

“Can we wait till tomorrow?” she asked. “Joe’s story kinda… Turned me off.”

Patrick laughed. “Yes, we can wait until tomorrow. You should be ovulating then, too.”

She took a deep breath, looked up into his eyes. “Patrick.”

He ran a hand through her hair, damp with the moisture in the air. “Yes?”

“There’s something I need to tell you…”

The door to the balcony opened. Joe leaned outside. “Anyone want to play some Scrabble?”

Patrick shook his head. “In a minute.”

“No,” Sarah said, pulling away from her husband. “We can play now.”