After My Husband's Dependency Switched Targets, I Gave Up the Baby

My husband has had skin-contact dependency since he was a boy. Three years into our marriage, wherever I went, he followed.

But in the third month of my pregnancy, he suddenly said, with disgust,

Lucretia Chavez, why do you smell like sour milk?

After that day, he stopped following me, stopped clinging to me.

I thought his dependency had finally healed.

Then, on the holiday, his childhood friend came to visit, and right in front of me my husband held her and nuzzled against her.

My face went cold at once. "Duane Swanson, what is this supposed to mean?"

He didn't even look up. His hand stayed around her waist and gave it a squeeze.

"My condition's acting up. I'm just treating it."

She flushed, but she didn't pull away.

"Lucretia, the doctor said when Duane's condition flares up we have to go along with it. You can't provoke him."

My mother-in-law came out of the kitchen carrying a dish.

"It's just a hug. It's for his treatment. Look how petty you're being."

I stood at the entryway, cold all over.

My belly cramped faintly, and I felt exactly like a joke.

It had never occurred to me that he would use treatment as his excuse to cheat, right in front of me, in the open.

I took a deep breath, walked into the living room, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

I kept my voice level. "Tomorrow's prenatal checkup. I'm not going."

...

At my words, my mother-in-law slammed the dish onto the table.

"I told you, Duane's doing this to get better. What are you making a scene for?"

"It's a holiday today. Don't go spoiling everyone's mood."

She stared at my belly. "I don't care if you like to throw fits."

"But you're carrying my grandson. Don't you go and lose my grandson over your temper."

Sitting there in the chair, listening to her, I found it almost funny.

My husband was holding and pawing at another woman in front of me, and she was blaming me for losing my temper?

I took a deep breath and turned my head to look at the man with his face buried against Cheryl Shelton's neck.

"How long have you two been carrying on together?"

Duane frowned, displeased. "Carrying on? Do you have to make it sound so ugly?"

Cheryl, eyes red, gave Duane a push.

It was gentle, just for show.

"Duane, stop holding me. Lucretia's getting the wrong idea, she'll be upset."

Then she looked at me, timid. "Duane's condition flared up a month ago. The doctor said we have to go along with it. I can't help it either."

My fingers went still. A month ago?

That was exactly when the baby's condition was unstable.

That month he came home late every night, and when I asked, he'd say he had work dinners.

So this was what he'd been busy with.

Seeing something off in my face, Duane tried to patch things over.

"Lucretia, I really can't control myself."

"I want to cling to you like before, I do, but the sour milk smell on you is so strong now it makes me want to throw up."

Even as he said it, his hand didn't leave Cheryl.

I stared at that hand and drifted.

I used to love holding his hand more than anything. It was big, and holding it made me feel safe.

But now.

Now all I felt was that faint cramp in my belly, my stomach churning until I nearly retched.

My mother-in-law kept setting out dishes, waving the two of them to eat.

"It's the holiday, we hardly ever get together. Stop dragging your feet, let's all sit down for a family dinner."

Fighting down the sickness, I set down my chopsticks and stood.

"I'm not eating."

Unhappy, my mother-in-law threw down her chopsticks.

"It's a holiday and you're pulling a face for who to see? Eat or don't, suit yourself."

Cheryl hurried to soothe her. "Auntie, don't blame Lucretia. I hear pregnant women just get unreasonable like this."

My mother-in-law's face softened with relief, and she laid her hand over the back of Cheryl's.

"If only Duane had married you back then."

Watching the two of them play off each other, I grew colder inside.

Duane never once said a word for me.

"Is that so? Then why did you agree to let me marry him in the first place?"

I said it in a cold voice, and my mother-in-law answered offhandedly, "If he hadn't gotten sick, I'd never have agreed to the two of you being together."

Three years ago, the first time we met, Duane said it was love at first sight.

A month later we made it official, and he was always pressed close to me. To everyone else, we were the couple who couldn't keep their hands off each other.

So he'd only been with me because I was his medicine.

Now the medicine had worn off, and he'd gone and found a new treatment.

I didn't say anything more.

I turned and went back to the bedroom, and when I woke again it was the middle of the night.

The bed beside me was the same as always, not a trace of anyone, not a hint of warmth.

For a whole month I'd slept alone in the master bedroom.

But I hadn't expected that, passing the second bedroom, I would see Cheryl and Duane sleeping in the same bed.

I looked down at the slight swell of my belly and let out one soundless, self-mocking laugh.

I took out my phone, made up my mind, and booked next Monday's appointment to end the pregnancy.

The next morning, when I woke up, Duane was already dressed in the bedroom.

"You're up? Any later and I was going to tell you to go to the checkup on your own."

My voice was flat. "No need. I canceled it."

His hands stilled on his cuffs. "You canceled the appointment?"

"Lucretia, are you still angry about yesterday?"

"I told you, it's treatment."

I let out a cold laugh. "Treatment? Since when does treatment mean sleeping in the same bed?"

He rubbed the space between his brows and pulled out a chair to sit down.

"There's nothing between her and me. We just lay in the same bed. Nothing happened."

He paused. "You know how it is when the condition flares up. I can't control it."

The illness again.

I was sick of hearing that excuse.

Learning that I'd already canceled the appointment, he glanced down at his watch.

"If you canceled it, then I'm heading to work."

"Stay home and behave. Don't overthink everything. I don't have time to keep humoring your fits."

I gave a small laugh.

As his wife, I wanted him to keep his distance from another woman, and he called it throwing a fit.

I took a deep breath, about to tell him I had booked the procedure.

But Cheryl's voice came from outside the door, urging him along.

Duane picked up his bag and turned. "Cheryl needs to get to the office. It's on my way, so I'll drop her off."

The two of them went out together to say goodbye to my mother-in-law, walking side by side, as if they were the newlyweds.

I laid my hand over my belly.

I thought back to three months ago, when we found out I was pregnant and he took me shopping for baby things.

We picked through everything, choosing several little outfits.

Back then he'd said, "I'm going to make sure our child is the happiest child in the world."

And now, before the child was even born, he was wrapping his arms around another woman right in front of me.

I smiled at myself.

My mother-in-law looked over and frowned.

"Wipe that miserable look off your face."

"Cheryl's going to be living with us from now on. Don't go making a scene like you did yesterday."

Only then did I remember the pink suitcase sitting in the entryway last night.

So it had been Cheryl's all along.

I looked at my mother-in-law without a word, then turned and went back to the room to pack my things.

When I came out, she stopped me. "Hey, where are you going?"

I answered, "Isn't Cheryl moving in here? She stays, so I go."

At that, she didn't try to stop me. She just quietly picked up the phone.

Half an hour later, I got a text from Duane.

Going to rest at your family's place is fine too. Take some time to cool down.

Remember to take care of the baby, and reschedule the checkup. Don't be difficult.

I didn't reply. I turned off the screen.

The baby?

There would be no more baby between him and me.

When the car reached its destination, I carried my bags up to the fifth floor.

My parents would only worry, and they would never let me get rid of the baby, so I didn't go home to them. I went to stay with my best friend instead.

She threw up right after I finished telling her everything.

She raged on my behalf for hours, and then, after a long hesitation, she looked at my belly and finally asked what she'd been holding back:

"Lucretia, are you... really set on getting rid of the baby?"

"You waited three years for this baby, didn't you?"

Three years. Yes.

Duane and I had been pushed by his mother to have a child. We'd tried everything, all the planning, all the doctors.

This baby hadn't come easily.

To say I wasn't heartbroken, wasn't torn about ending it, would be a lie.

I didn't answer. I just sat there on the bed.

It wasn't until dinnertime that I got up and went to cook with her.

My phone was on the kitchen island when it suddenly buzzed.

The master-bedroom camera alerted me that someone had gone in.

Before I left, I'd changed the camera's settings.

The moment I opened it, I saw Duane and Cheryl in the master bedroom.

Cheryl was pulling off Duane's suit jacket like a wife would.

Duane turned and wrapped his arms around her, his face flushed, as if he were drunk.

He pressed close against her, even nuzzled his head into her chest, the two of them exactly like a couple flirting. It burned to look at.

I took a deep breath, saved the camera footage, and forwarded it to Duane.

Just the video in the chat window. I didn't add a single word.

After a long while, he replied: My condition acted up again just now.

One word, "condition," and every last thing was made reasonable again.

I typed back a few words.

Fine. Then let's divorce.

He called immediately.

"What are you kicking up a fuss about now? I told you I'm sick."

"Work already wears me out. Why do you have to come and bother me too?"

I said the same thing: "Divorce."

After a brief burst of background noise, a timid female voice came through the phone.

She was choking back tears. "Lucretia, Duane had drinks at a work thing just now, and I was only taking care of him. His condition flared up. Please don't misunderstand him."

Then I heard her talking it over with Duane. "Duane, maybe you should hold back a little? If Lucretia really misreads this and divorces you, that wouldn't be good."

Duane's voice came through:

"Lucretia, until I'm better, I'm not sending Cheryl away."

After the call ended, I opened the camera again and the screen was pitch black.

"Lucretia, are you okay?"

My friend watched me, worried.

I looked down at my belly, and in that instant my heart went hard for good.

"You asked me whether I could bring myself to get rid of the baby, didn't you?"

"Here's my answer now. I'm getting rid of it."

For the next three days, Duane didn't call once, didn't send one text.

As if he'd never existed in my life at all, gone without a trace overnight.

Soon it was Monday, the day of my scheduled procedure.

My friend took the day off just to go with me for the abortion.

The whole ride there I felt weighed down, and neither of us said a word.

But the moment I got out of the car, I saw two familiar figures, not far from me.

Duane happened to look up right then, and our eyes met.

He lowered his gaze, stared down at my belly, and knitted his brows.

"You're here for a prenatal checkup? Why didn't you tell me?"

My friend started to say I was here for an abortion, and I grabbed her arm to stop her.

My eyes moved to Cheryl at his side.

Her face was pale, like she was ill.

Duane followed my gaze, looked at Cheryl, and explained:

"She's got bad period cramps. I came with her to have it checked out."

At that, I laughed.

Back when my period cramps hurt, he always told me to drink hot water and take some medicine.

I understood that he was busy.

But now I could see the tangle between him and Cheryl wasn't just as simple as being "sick."

I didn't call it out. My friend muttered under her breath beside me:

"His own wife is carrying his child and he doesn't ask about her once."

"But he brings some other woman to the hospital for period cramps. Disgusting."

Duane heard it, and his expression shifted.

He wanted to defend himself, but Cheryl suddenly spoke up: "Duane, it hurts."

He immediately steadied her, careful, as though she were the pregnant one carrying a baby.

They'd gone a little way when he abruptly looked back.

"Once I've gotten her admitted, I'll come find you."

"No need." My tone was flat.

At my words, Duane's face darkened for a moment.

In the past, I'd have demanded answers, I'd have held on and fought.

But now, everything about him no longer mattered to me.

Watching the two of them walk away, I turned and headed for the department where the abortion would be done.

I said, "Let's go."

On the way, my best friend kept glancing sideways at my face.

I held the form and said nothing the whole way.

I took a number, saw the doctor, and sat down for the consultation.

She looked over the information I'd filled in and asked.

"At three months, all we can do is induce. If you're sure, sign at the top."

I signed my name without hesitation.

My phone rang just then.

It was from Duane.

Cheryl's stomach still hurts, she can't go back alone. I'll come get you after I drop her off.

I glanced at it and let the screen go dark.

My best friend was even more on edge than I was.

I sat in the chair waiting for my number, and she kept trying to talk me out of it.

"Lucretia, are you really sure? You won't regret it?"

"Once I'm in the operating room, it'll be too late to regret anything."

My hand tightened around the form.

The phone rang again.

It's raining out. Cheryl's scared of thunder. I'll come as soon as I get her to sleep.

Two hours had passed since we'd run into each other.

This time, I didn't pretend I hadn't seen it.

I sent him one line back.

Don't bother coming. I'm almost done here.

Then a mechanical woman's voice called my number.

I changed into the gown as instructed.

I handed my phone to my best friend, lay down on the table, and was wheeled into the operating room.

On the other end, Duane went rigid when he saw my text.

He scrolled up and realized how pitifully little we'd said to each other this past month.

Two weeks ago, I still used to ask: Are you coming home for dinner tonight? The baby and I are waiting for you.

But this week, not one word of concern.

He'd message me, and my replies came back short, cold.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He'd always thought I was the clingy one.

A crack of thunder, and lightning split the sky.

The weather turned in an instant.

"Duane, I'm scared."

Somehow Cheryl had already tucked herself against his chest.

He sat up sharply. "The rain's getting worse. I need to go pick up Lucretia."

Something uneasy stirred in him, and he couldn't name it.

The next second, Cheryl reached over and laid her hand on his.

"But I'm scared." The moment they touched he shuddered, the illness flaring up again.

He swallowed hard.

"Then... wait for me. I'm going to make a call."

He got up off the bed, went out to the living room, and dialed my number.

He called three times, and it wouldn't connect.

He was starting to panic when it beeped and finally went through.

He let out a breath, about to ask if the checkup was done.

Instead he heard my best friend's voice.

"Doctor, after an induced abortion, how long is the recovery period?"