The Perfect Clone (11 page)

The broken sound that left her lips ripped a hole in the hearts of both men. “It’s real isn’t it? Dad’s gone?”

Roger sat at the end of the sectional. He put Laura’s feet in his lap and carefully removed her shoes, placing them neatly on the floor. He rubbed her socked limbs, providing the only comfort he could. With all the honest tenderness that he could muster, Roger was the one to answer, “Yes. I’m so sorry, Laura.”

Fresh tears surfaced as she whispered, “I tried to prepare just like you told me to, Roger, but it still hurts.”

Knowing that nothing he could say would ease her pain, Roger offered what little he could. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

Richard located a box of tissue and sat it down beside his grieving friend. He watched as she pulled out one tissue after another. He thought that the makers of Kleenex should offer more of its product in the packaging. A single box could never survive a trial such as this.

Both men sat quietly, each providing their own form of comfort. Richard stroked Laura’s hair and Roger continued rubbing her feet while she cried. There would be no need for words, they would seem empty. Grief was a horrendous enemy that had to be conquered alone. Until she could do that, the tears would continue to flow. Laura cried herself back to sleep.

Unfolding a quilt that lay on the nearby ottoman, Richard covered Laura’s exhausted body and motioned for the other man to join him in the kitchen.

Roger worked at his lab, but only knew him through their mutual friend. Now would be a good time to get to know him better, to see if his impressions of the other man were accurate.

Once their feet hit the kitchen tile, Roger kindly asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“That would be good.” He was drained. Richard couldn’t take his eyes off the other man though, observing how he seemed to know his way around Laura’s kitchen. “Either you know your way around a kitchen, or you’ve spent a lot of time in this one.”

Roger removed two blue cups from the hooks that hung over the coffee pot and turned to face his accuser. “I’ve spent a great deal of time in
this
kitchen,
and
with Laura. You know that. Don’t tell me you’re just now deciding it’s a problem for you? I didn’t notice you offering to help when she needed it in the past.”

Richard didn’t appreciate the man’s tone, but couldn’t find fault with what he’d said. “No, I don’t have a problem with it. You’ve done right by her Roger, and I thank you for that. You’ve been a good friend.”

Roger was annoyed that the man sitting across from him thought he could just waltz in after all this time and feel like he had the right to comment on anything. Roger stifled his irritation, “Yeah, that’s me. Good old Roger, always the vigilant friend. I was a friend to Cliff almost as long as I can remember. Now that he’s gone, I’m a friend to her. Cliff would have done the same for me.”

Richard pushed back the bar stool he’d parked himself on, causing Roger to reconsider his use of verbal tones. Damn, Richard was big, he thought.

Casually walking over to the coffee maker, Richard removed the pot and placed his cup under the fresh stream of coffee. Once it was filled to his liking, he replaced the pot and went back to sit on the stool. Waving the cup under his nose, Richard inhaled; capturing the full aroma of the hearty coffee and then took a sip. After swallowing the brew, Richard looked over at Roger, ready for battle.

He suddenly wanted to know if there was any truth behind his past suspicions. Now that they were alone, there was no time like the present. It seemed obvious to Richard that the man wasn’t interested in women, and he’d spent a hell of a lot of time with Laura’s deceased husband. “A fine housewife you’ll make someday, Roger. Cliff would have been proud.”

Hissing sounds emanated from between Roger’s clenched teeth as he replied, “Don’t you ever mention his name to me again!”

“Ever the scorned lover, I see.” Richard’s pupil’s dilated as he continued pushing on an emotional wound that had apparently never healed. “It never would have worked out between you two. Not to sound cliché, but she had him from ‘hello’.”

“That’s enough.” Roger turned away, needing to escape Richard’s glare. Leaning on the counter for support, a weakened voice replied, “He loved us both, but for very different reasons.”

“Did Cliff know how you felt?” Richard could give a rat’s ass about Roger’s personal life, but he cared deeply for Laura and wanted to know everything he could about the life she’d lived without him.

With a faraway look in his eyes, Roger replied, “I mentioned it once, during our freshman year of college. We were both drunk and we experimented. After that, it was brushed under the rug and never spoke of again. When he told me that he was going to propose to Laura, I begged him to give us an honest try before committing to marriage but he laughed it off.”

Cliff had always had a tendency to do that when he didn’t want to deal with a situation. “Package it up and put it on the shelf,” was something he’d always say. Roger kept those last two thoughts to himself, feeling the need to protect his friend’s character. Instead he finished off by adding, “He liked things to be uncomplicated.”

The conversation halted as Laura walked into the kitchen and took a seat on the bar stool next to Richard.

Still in the jeans she’d worn to the hospital, her shirt ruffled from her short nap on the couch, and lockets of hair escaping her ponytail, she was a lovely sight to behold. For a brief moment, it appeared that the events of the day hadn’t happened. “I’ll have some of that coffee, if it’s not too much trouble,” she said.

Like a couple of children who’d been caught in the mad depths of confession, Roger quickly poured a cup and placed it on the bar beside her as Richard watched. Staring into her coffee, time seemed to stand still. “He told me you know.”

Not sure how much of the conversation she might have overheard, both men asked in unison, “Told you what?”

Wrapping shaky hands around the mug, she looked up at Roger. “Cliff, he told me about the feelings you had for him.” With no more tears to shed, she straightened her back and shoulders, ready to release the burden of responsibility that comes with keeping painful truths hidden. “He had them too, Roger.”

Caught completely off guard by the comment, Roger caught his balance on the marble bar top as his knees threatened to give way. “He never told me.” Pulling for air, he whispered, “Cliff never said a word.”

Richard reached for an empty stool and slid it towards the other man, suddenly feeling guilty about the snide remark he’d made earlier. He’d been an ass to the guy.

Laura reached across the table, laying a hand on top of Roger’s. “I am
so
sorry. It’s my fault.”

As she took a deep breath, the two men waited patiently for the story to unravel. “I made him promise to keep it a secret until we could have a child. As selfish as it sounds, if I couldn’t have him—all of him—I wanted at least a small part of him. I loved him so much. We tried a few times to get pregnant, but it just didn’t happen. His heart wasn’t in it.  Eventually he couldn’t stand to try anymore, couldn’t stand to be romantic with me. Several weeks before the accident, we mutually agreed to call it quits. I just couldn’t stand to see him depressed anymore. He loved me Roger, and I know that, but not in the way a man should love his wife.”

Roger hung his head as tears of disbelief splashed against the cold marble slab and he mourned a love now lost.

“Cliff was a man of his word and he’d made a promise. He wouldn’t say anything to you until I got pregnant. Cliff had divorce papers drawn up, but they were never filed. He was waiting until the promise was fulfilled.”

Laura reached out for Roger’s other hand, holding them both in her own. “Please forgive me Roger. It was extremely difficult for me to accept certain things. I felt like I had failed as a woman. By not telling you, I could keep pushing the thoughts away and pretend that it wasn’t real. After his death, I told myself that I would tell you, but every time I thought I was strong enough to admit it, I choked on the words. I got so wrapped up in my own sorrow and denial, that I deprived you of the truth.”

Roger took back his hands, tore off a paper towel from the holder, and dried his eyes. Turning his back to the couple at the bar, he reached for the coffee pot and froze. Because he couldn’t bear to look at Laura for fear of losing the courage to express his true emotions, Roger stared at the cabinets. His voice was overcome with emotion, “I was there for you when you grieved over him, even though I had to grieve in silence. I was there to bring you back into the world of the living, when you wanted to bury yourself in your own misery. I supported you when your father was ill. I stood by your side, even today, as you lost your last known living relative. And all this time you harbored the only truth I’ve ever needed or wanted to hear?”

“Cliff was the only love I’ve ever known. Now because of you, I’ll never know what could have been between us. You denied me that. You denied
us
that.” Roger tilted his head down to watch the coffee pour into his cup and then he turned toward the bar.

Laura’s head sagged under the weight of her confession, while Richard rubbed her back in an attempt to provide comfort.

Needing to feel something beside the numbness that had taken control of his body, Roger took a long draw from the hot liquid he’d just poured, appreciating the burn against his throat. With eyes narrowed, he calculated his next question. “What have you done with Cliff’s sperm?”

Laura’s head popped up from its slump, her eyes red and swollen. “What?”

Roger had his suspicions, but wanted confirmation. “I didn’t stutter Laura. You heard me. What have you done with it?”

Laura could hardly believe what he was asking her. “What? How do you know about that?”

“I know about it because I was with him when he went to the sperm bank to have it done. He insisted that if he preserved something of himself for you, that his end of the deal would be met. I didn’t know at the time what deal he was referring to, but now it’s pretty obvious. After his death, I did some research of my own. It’s gone from the sperm bank Laura. Where is it?”

With all her secrets on display for the world to see, there was no reason to try denying the truth. It was time to come clean. With a ragged breath, Laura answered, “It’s at the lab.”

Richard’s hand slid from her back. “Laura, what in the hell is it doing at
my
lab?”

Chapter 11

Completely blindsided by this new revelation, Richard couldn’t help himself. He was slightly impressed that Laura had the capacity to attempt such deception. He never would have guessed her to have a manipulative bone in her body.

“Laura, I’m sure I know the answer to this, but amuse me by answering anyway. Why did you take Cliff’s sperm to the lab? What was…or maybe the real question should be…what is your intention?” Roger wanted answers and he wanted them now.

Getting up from her stool, Laura walked over to the fridge. Opening it, she reached inside and removed a bottle of barely used Gin and another bottle of tonic water. Seeing where this was going, Roger handed her a glass as she sat the two items on the counter.

With glass in hand, Laura retrieved ice cubes from the freezer and poured a drink. Taking a swig of the liquor, she walked back over to the stool and pulled out a drawer that was hidden under the bar top. Not caring that both men were waiting for her response, she removed a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a clean ashtray. She wasn’t much of a smoker, but damn it to hell, she needed one now. “Roger, would you hand me the bottles please? The circumstances are bigger than just
one
drink.”

Laughing through the nervousness, she said, “You might as well join me.” Taking another gulp from her glass, she simply stated, “If we’re headed down the road of truth and confessions, it might be one heck of a bumpy ride.” Laura shook the glass, causing the ice cubes to clink against it, signaling the need for a refill. Richard obliged her.

Roger eyed the other man who shrugged. They were both ready to spend as long as it took to find out what she had to say. Removing all the coffee cups from the bar and carrying them to the sink, Roger opened the cabinet and retrieved two glasses, handing one to Richard. From the looks of things, this promised to be a long night.

After drinks were poured and everyone had downed a few sips, Laura pulled a cigarette from its box and lit up. Blowing out in a long exhale, she watched as the smoke canvassed the room. Deeply inhaling another drag, she silently begged that the smoke would suffocate her so this situation would end. No such luck.

A torture scene of the Spanish Inquisition she’d once observed came to mind. Laura pictured herself as the punisher, wearing a brown woolen robe. She exacted pain on another image, the image of her naked self, strapped to a stretching table. She was both the punished and the punisher. Such was the mess she’d created of her life. Knowing that she couldn’t delay forever, Laura began the wrenching task of laying all her sins out before her.

“Before answering your question, I want to explain the situation that led me make certain decisions. There’s no excuse for the lies I told or what I’ve done, but it’s best if you both know the entire story.” Laura cleared her throat. “Now, where should I start?”

Roger was quick to offer up his suggestion, “I suppose chronological order would be appropriate.”

Over the top of the burning cigarette, she looked at Roger to acknowledge his request and nodded. “Very well, then.”