She Kept My Dignity Intact, So I Let Her Go

Three months after the car accident, Clementine hauled me home from a work party.

I was badly drunk. With distaste she yanked my tie loose, then braced a knee against the edge of the bed and started unbuttoning my shirt.

Lewis, the doctor only said you can't have kids. He didn't say you're not a man. Why are you wrecking yourself?

She always had a sharp tongue.

But that night, when she kissed me, the corners of her eyes were still red.

So later, when someone laughed at me for being the end of my line, she grabbed a glass and threw the drink in his face.

"Whether my man works or not is none of your damn business!"

I thought she really didn't care about a child.

Until six months later, when her belly began to swell.

I stared at that twelve-week prenatal checkup report and couldn't say a word for a long time.

Clementine, on the other hand, was perfectly calm.

She leaned back into the sofa, even in the mood to smile at me.

"Don't give me that dead man's face. Isn't this a ready-made one I got for you?"

My fingertips trembled. "Whose is it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter? Either way, it'll be born a Matthews."

For the first time, the woman I'd loved for seven years felt like a total stranger.

Yet she reached out, hooked a finger in my belt, and slowly pulled me closer.

"Lewis, you should thank me."

"From now on, when people see the child, no one will whisper behind your back that you're a useless man."

I looked down at the hand she'd curled around my waist.

Once, if she'd touched me like this, I would have handed her my life.

This time, all I felt was dirty.

I lifted her hand away.

It wasn't rough, but Clementine froze for a second.

She probably hadn't expected me to pull back.

In seven years, no matter how far she went, all she had to do was burrow into my arms or crook a finger, and half my anger would drain away.

She used to laugh at me for being spineless.

"Lewis, you're stuck with me for the rest of your life."

But this time, I stood a little farther from her.

"Whose is it, really?"

The smile faded from Clementine's face.

"You really have to ask?"

"Is it too much to want to know who slept with my wife?"

She frowned.

"Don't talk so ugly."

I almost laughed.

She was carrying another man's child, and she was the one griping about how I talked.

The phone on the coffee table suddenly lit up.

Ferris Fox. Clementine's childhood friend, the one she'd grown up with.

I'd met him plenty of times.

The message was a single line.

Don't butt heads with Lewis. She can't get worked up this early in the pregnancy.

I stared at that line of text.

Clementine reached for the phone. I got there first and pinned it down.

"Ferris Fox?"

She was silent for a few seconds.

"Yeah."

The last bit of wishful thinking in my head disappeared for good.

"You slept together?"

Clementine rubbed at her brow, irritated.

"Once."

She said it very lightly.

So lightly it was as if she were telling me she'd gone out and bought a coffee.

I stood there, not moving for a long time.

Clementine got up and came over.

"Lewis, I don't have feelings for him."

"This was my idea."

"I didn't want to just find some stranger. I know Ferris inside and out, and his health is fine. He promised he'd never use the child to trouble us later."

She'd even thought it all through for me.

I asked in a low voice, "So you had your pick?"

Her expression shifted slightly.

"What?"

"Picked whoever was healthy, whoever's family had no hereditary diseases, whoever wouldn't cling to you afterward."

"Clementine, do you still think you're being rational?"

That finally got to her.

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"After your accident, do you not know what people out there were saying about you?"

"Do you have any idea what kind of state you drank yourself into?"

"Every time I heard someone say you were finished, I had to come home and pretend I hadn't heard. Lewis, it hurt me too!"

Her eyes went red.

"I just wanted all of it to end."

I looked at her.

"So you slept with Ferris."

"Yes."

"For me?"

"That's right."

That "that's right" was more sickening than if she'd just admitted to an affair.

I nodded.

"Fine."

Clementine was stunned.

"What do you mean?"

I turned and headed for the study. She chased after me and grabbed my arm.

"Lewis, don't be pigheaded. I know you can't accept it right now, but the moment the child is born, it's ours."

"He'll call you Dad, his records will be under your name, and Ferris won't ever appear."

I turned back.

"And you?"

"What?"

"When you lie next to me, are you going to think about exactly how this child in your belly came to be?"

Clementine's face went white in an instant.

I pulled her hand off me.

"Because I will!"

That night, I slept in the study.

At two in the morning, the door was pushed open.

Clementine stood in the doorway, hugging a pillow.

"The bed's cold."

In the past, all she had to say was that, and even mid-argument I would have thrown back the covers.

I glanced at her.

"Turn on the air conditioner."

She didn't move.

"Shut the door on your way out."

Clementine stared at me for a long time.

In the end she slammed the door hard.

She probably thought I was just jealous.

She didn't know I'd already been searching for divorce lawyers on my phone.

The next day at noon, Clementine's mother called and asked me to come home for lunch.

I didn't want to go.

But Clementine was standing at the door waiting for me.

She had on light makeup and the dress I'd given her last year, as if nothing had happened the night before.

"My mom knows you've been feeling down lately, so she made some soup specially."

I glanced at her belly.

"Does she know whose baby it is?"

Clementine went still.

"She knows."

"When did she find out?"

"A month ago."

I didn't ask anything else.

So it turned out I was the last one to know.

The Manning dinner table was full of people.

Clementine's parents, her sister, and Ferris Fox.

When I walked in, he was peeling an orange for Clementine.

He'd picked off every white string, clean, and laid the segments one by one into her bowl.

Clementine took it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Is it sour?"

"Yesterday's batch was too sour. This one should be just right."

Ferris smiled.

"You've gotten picky."

I stood in the entryway.

Suddenly I felt like a guest who'd shown up late.

When Clementine's mother saw me, she waved me over quickly.

"Lewis, sit down, sit."

She sat me next to Clementine.

Ferris was on her other side.

Halfway through the meal, Neil raised his glass.

"Lewis, what's past is past."

"The most important thing is that everyone's alive and well. You've got a baby now, so don't take it to heart anymore."

I didn't pick up my glass.

"What's past?"

The table went quiet.

Clementine kicked me under the table.

Her mother smoothed it over.

"He means the thing with your body, of course."

"Now that Clemmie's expecting, no one out there will gossip anymore. You two just build a good life togetherthat's worth more than anything."

I looked around at the whole table.

"The baby isn't mine."

Clementine's head snapped around.

"Lewis Matthews!"

Her mother's face changed.

Ferris's chopsticks paused for a moment too.

Only Neil frowned right away.

"We're all family here. Do you have to put it so ugly?"

"Family?"

I looked at Ferris.

"Then what's he?"

Ferris didn't flinch.

"The baby's biological father."

He said it calmly.

Clementine immediately grabbed his wrist.

"That's enough out of you."

The way that hand came down was far too practiced.

I stared for two seconds.

Clementine noticed and let go at once.

"Don't read into it."

I laughed.

"How am I supposed to think about it?"

Clementine couldn't hold her face together.

"Today's a family dinner. Do you have to make a scene here?"

Me making a scene again.

From yesterday until now, it seemed the only thing she remembered was that I had a bad temper.

Nobody remembered I was the last person to find out my wife was carrying another man's child.

I couldn't eat anymore.

I stood up to leave.

Clementine's sister suddenly called out to me.

"Lewis."

"Clemmie's pregnancy is fragile this time. Even if you can't get past it, don't upset her."

"When she had her checkup last week, the doctor said her progesterone was low."

My steps stopped.

"Last week?"

Clementine's face changed.

Her sister realized she'd let something slip and went quiet.

I turned to look at Ferris.

"You went with her?"

Ferris didn't deny it.

Clementine gripped her chopsticks tight.

"You were away on business."

"Did you call me?"

"I was afraid it would upset you."

I nodded.

Such a handy excuse.

She sleeps with someone elsebecause she was afraid it would upset me.

She hides her pregnancy from mebecause she was afraid it would upset me.

She lets the baby's real father take her to her first prenatal checkupbecause she was afraid it would upset me.

She thought of everything for me.

The only thing she never asked was whether I wanted any of it.

I picked up my coat.

Clementine chased me to the door.

"Lewis Matthews, what exactly do you want?"

I turned around.

Her eyes had gone red.

"I already told you Ferris won't try to take the baby later on, so why do you keep clinging to these details?"

I looked at her.

"Clementine, you still think this is a detail?"

She opened her mouth.

I didn't wait for her to speak. I turned and went downstairs.

When I got home that night, there was a nursery design drawing on the guest room table.

Three words were printed on the door plate.

Baby Matthews.

Next to it was a pregnancy journal.

In the line for the father's name, Clementine had already filled it in for me.

Lewis Matthews.

I stared at it for a long time, and finally picked up a pen and, stroke by stroke, blacked out my own name.

On the third day, Ferris came to the house to drop off medicine.

When I opened the door, he was visibly startled.

"Is Clemmie here?"

"She's asleep."

He handed me the bag.

"She hasn't had much of an appetite lately. The doctor said she can take this."

I didn't take it.

"You know a lot."

Ferris was silent for a moment.

"Lewis, I know you can't accept this."

"But it's not the way you think."

I laughed.

"Then what way is it?"

"The two of you worked it outhave sex once, get pregnant, then each go back to your own home?"

Ferris's expression turned ugly.

"Don't insult her."

That made me laugh out of sheer anger.

"My wife is pregnant with your child, you show up at my door, and you tell me not to insult her?"

The bedroom door suddenly opened.

Clementine came out barefoot.

"Enough."

She looked at Ferris first.

"Go home."

Ferris didn't move.

"I'm worried he'll"

"I told you to go home!"

Clementine's voice shot up sharply.

Ferris finally left.

After the door closed, she turned to look at me.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you? Whatever you say, he did help me."

"Helped you?"

I repeated it.

"Clementine, have you forgotten that you have a husband?"

She shut her eyes.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Then what about the day the two of you slept together?"

Her body went rigid.

I stared at her. I hadn't slept more than a few hours in the last two days.

Twelve weekscount the days backward, and it landed exactly on a night I remember very clearly.

It was the day she hauled me home from a work party.

She yanked my tie loose and cursed me for being useless.

She kissed me with red eyes.

I was so drunk I could barely stand, and I still held her and said I was sorry.

I said I might never be able to give her a child for the rest of my life.

That night, Clementine cupped my face in her hands.

"Do I need a child from you?"

That single sentence was the reason I picked myself back up.

I stared at her.

"Was it that night?"

She didn't answer.

I already had the answer in my heart.

"After I fell asleep, did you go to Ferris?"

The color drained from Clementine's lips.

"Lewis"

Suddenly my stomach turned.

That early morning, I'd had too much to drink and woke up once in the middle of the night.

The space beside me was empty.

I thought she'd gone to the kitchen to get me water.

When I opened my eyes again, Clementine was already lying back down beside me.

She had her back to me.

Half-asleep, I reached out to hold her, and her body stiffened for a moment.

In the end she turned over and buried her face against my chest.

I remember she had a very faint scent of body wash on her.

"You counted the days?"

Clementine nodded, her eyes red.

"The doctor said the odds were high on those days."

"So once you'd coaxed me to sleep, you went to find him."

"It wasn't coaxing!"

Her voice suddenly went hoarse.

"That night I really did ache for you!"

"You sat on the floor calling yourself worthless, and I couldn't stand hearing it."

"I couldn't stand itthat's exactly why I made up my mind. I wanted to end this quickly!"

I stared at her, feeling like a piece had been scooped out of my chest.

So it was true.

Her heartache was real.

Her kiss was real too.

Her holding me and saying she didn't care was real too.

And then she waited until I was asleep, put her clothes on, and went to another man to have a child.

Clementine came over and pulled at me.

"I didn't fake my feelings for you. When I came back that night and held you, you were the one on my mind."

I threw her off hard.

"Stop."

Her tears fell.

"Lewis I'm begging you, stop."

I had never spoken to her like that before.

Clementine froze.

I lowered my head and took off my wedding ring.

Seven yearsthe ring had pressed a pale ring of white into my skin.

I looked at it for a while, then set the ring on the entryway cabinet.

Clementine's face changed completely.

"Why are you taking it off?"

"It chafes."

Suddenly she went quiet.

That night, I packed a suitcase.

Clementine sat on the edge of the bed watching me.

She didn't say a word to stop me.

She probably figured I'd stay in a hotel a couple of days and then come back.

After all, every time we fought before, I was always the one to back down first.

She had always known I loved her.

So it had never once occurred to her that my love could run out one day too.

A few days later came the day of my follow-up exam, six months after my car accident.

I only meant to grab the results and leave.

After looking through the X-rays and my old records, the doctor suddenly asked me, "Mr. Matthews, why are you so certain you've permanently lost your fertility?"

I froze for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"You suffered only a severe injury at the time, and the odds of recovery weren't high, but there was never any conclusion that you'd be permanently infertile. Your discharge record says it clearlycome back in six months for a follow-up to reassess how you've recovered."

He turned the screen toward me.

The latest results showed every indicator improving.

The doctor even smiled a little. "Given how things look now, natural conception isn't out of the question."

I stared at those few lines, my ears ringing.

"But I have a diagnosis."

I pulled up the photo on my phone.

The third day after I woke from the accident, Clementine had handed it to me herself.

Permanent damage to reproductive function, with no possibility of natural conception.

The doctor took one glance and his brow furrowed.

"This isn't our hospital's official format, and this conclusion doesn't match your original records from back then."

I sat there and didn't say anything for a long time.

Six months.

Because of that one piece of paper, I hadn't dared talk about the future.

An offhand remark from someone"when you have kids someday"could keep me lying awake till dawn.

At my worst, I drank until my stomach bled.

Clementine sat at my bedside and scolded me: "Lewis, can't you pull yourself together? So what if you can't have kids? I don't hold it against you."

Back then I still thought she was saving me.

Only now do I understand that she knew perfectly well I might not have lost everything, yet she watched me slowly sentence myself to death anyway.

I took the follow-up report home.

Clementine was in the kitchen making soup.

Hearing the door, she poked her head out. "Perfect timingcome taste this, see if it's too bland."

I set the report on the dining table.

When she made out the words on it, the smile vanished from her face.

I asked, "That diagnosiswhere did it come from?"

Clementine didn't answer.

I asked again. "I was never actually diagnosed as permanently infertile. Why did you lie to me?"

She was silent a long time before she said quietly, "You went for the follow-up?"

That one sentence was enough.

I looked at her. "You knew all along."

Clementine came over at once.

"Lewis, let me explain first. The doctor said the chances of recovery were very low, and you kept clinging to that sliver of possibilityhappy one minute, falling apart the next. I really couldn't stand seeing you like that."

"So?"

She bit her lip.

"That reportFerris had someone make it."

Ferris again.

My grip on the report tightened, little by little.

Clementine rushed to explain. "We weren't trying to hurt you. Ferris said, rather than letting you wait forever for a result that might never come, it was better to accept the worst first. And if you really did recover later, we'd tell youwouldn't that be a good thing too?"

I stared at her for a long time.

"So the two of you decided for me when I should despair and when I should be happy?"

Her eyes reddened at once.

"I just wanted you to stop tormenting yourself."

"Then when I drank until my stomach bled, why didn't you say anything?"

Clementine opened her mouth.

I went on. "When I asked you in the middle of the night whether my life was over, why didn't you say anything?"

Her tears spilled over.

"I was afraid you'd start hoping again."

I suddenly laughed.

So she'd known everything.

She knew why I drank, why I couldn't sleep, and she knew that every time I broke down, it was because of a fake diagnosis.

"Clementine, was that night the same?"

She went blank.

"What?"

"The night you brought me home from that work party. I held you and said I was sorry, that I might never be able to give you a child. You held me and said it was okay."

I stared at her.

"Even then, you already knew the report was fake, didn't you?"

Her face went white in an instant.

It was a long time before she nodded.

"I knew."

My chest felt like it had been utterly hollowed out.

The most laughable thing about that night wasn't that she later went to Ferris.

It was me, holding her, crying like a fool over a future that had never even been sentenced to death.

And she knew the truth perfectly well.

Yet she said nothing.

Clementine finally panicked and reached out to grab me.

"Lewis, I really didn't mean to hurt you. I just thought that if you accepted it first, things would be easier. Same with the childI wanted to make sure no one would ever laugh at you again."

I took a step back.

Her hand closed on nothing.

"Seeit's for my sake again."

My voice was very soft.

"Lying to me was for my sake. Carrying someone else's child was for my sake too."

"Clementine, has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't need you making its decisions for me?"

She cried harder.

"I was wrong. From now on I'll ask you about everythingjust don't look at me like that."

In the past, one look at her tears and I couldn't bring myself to press her on anything.

But this time, all I felt was tired.

I put the follow-up report back on the table.

"Clementine."

She looked up, one last flicker of hope still in her eyes.

I looked at her and said, one word at a time:

"Let's get a divorce."