BETRAYAL

Ted was lying on his bed, sleepless at four in the morning, with his hands underneath his head, staring at the ceiling, brooding over the question that had been troubling him for weeks: how to tell her the truth. Tina was his best friend, nevertheless he had lied to her, and that lie had caused her a great deal of anguish and pain. He had betrayed her. He knew he had to gather the courage to tell her everything. He knew it was the right thing to do, even when he did not have the decency to do the right thing when he was initially confronted with the issue. He knew it was too late, but he could not fake it anymore. He had to come out clean, knowing that in doing so, he would lose her forever.

     They had been friends for several years. Tina had gone through the emotionally draining circle of building a new relationship, breaking up, and starting over. Just when she was too exhausted and about to give up completely, she met somebody that she thought was the right guy for her. Everything was going well, until one day she left early from work, and when she arrived home, found him in bed with another woman. She called the police, and said he was an intruder, for which he spent two nights in jail. She took all his belongings, and everything he had given her, and anything that would remind her of him, piled them up in the backyard, and set them on fire, as a sacrifice to the god of Hypocrisy. She swore over the tremulous pyre that she would never again get involved with men, those creepy, crawly, filthy, wretched, corrupt, perverted, despicable, crooked reptiles; a living testament to everything that was debased in the human race.

     Ted had been married, divorced, and had a son. He too had traveled on the rough path of failed romantic liaisons. Weary and cynical, he was giving up all hopes when another woman came along, one that he thought was worth trying again. Their love affair was going well, or so he thought. He was thinking about asking her to move in. One day though, she called him and said the dreaded words: “We need to talk”. She said their relationship had become boring, that she needed more excitement, to travel and meet other people, other men. Needless to say, she broke up with him. He fetched the personal effects and possessions she had left behind, every gift she had given him, and anything that would remind him of her, stacked them up in the backyard, sprayed lighter fluid all over them, and lit a match, as an offering to the god of Vanity. He swore over the flames of the bonfire that he would never again get involved with women, those shallow, frivolous, conceited, hypocritical, vain, erratic, heartless creatures; a living testament to everything that was cruel in this life.

    Neither Ted nor Tina was a very social person. They had a friend or two, but in a general sense they were both steppenwolfs; they felt they did not fit in the main stream society, and consequently, they did not partake with its values. They looked upon themselves as morally superior to the others, and in every situation they tried to do what they thought was the right thing. At the same time, they had to fight the animal instincts that pushed them to do otherwise. This persistent conflict between their rational selves and their animal nature would bring about enough angst to make them want to stay away from people. They were all by themselves most of the time. Despite the fact that they were more or less satisfied with those circumstances, since they did not need the crowd to have a meaningful life, they did have the inclination to connect with at least one other individual that could figure them out and empathize with them. After their break-ups, as a result of that duality, they, the ones who prided themselves in being happy as solitary wolves of the steppes, began to experience the onset of loneliness. They would go for a walk, a movie, a concert, dinner, all by themselves. To alleviate the weight of their secluded life style, Tina took up music and painting, while Ted took up writing.

    One windy and sunny autumn day, while Ted was sitting on a bench, in the park, writing a story, the wind blew the sheets of paper off his hands. Horrified, he watched them fly about. Afraid to lose even one of them, because then he would not remember the notes he had scribbled on them, he frantically ran all over the grassy field, trying to pick them all before the wind blew them too far away. All of a sudden Tina appeared out of nowhere, and helped him collect the papers. He sat down on the bench, gasping for air, but relieved. She then came over to him with a bunch of sheets in her hands, and handed them over to him, looking at him from head to toe, as if trying to assess what kind of a guy he was. He looked like a good guy to her.

     He thanked her. She asked him what he was writing about. He told her he was writing a short story. She, of course, wanted to know what the title of it was. “Casualties of War”, he replied. She then inquired about the plot of the story. He said it was about a woman in a war zone, who decides to commit the ultimate sacrifice: giving up the one and only person she loved more than anything else. Tina expressed that it sounded like a very interesting story, and that she would like to read it when he finished it. He told her that if she went back to the park the following Sunday, he would be there, by then he would have finished the story, and he would let her read it. Tina assured him she would be there.

   The following Sunday she returned to the park as she had promised. Ted had completed the story, and let her read it, as he had promised. Tears were streaming down Tina’s cheeks when she finished reading it. “It’s a great story”, she exclaimed.

     After that day, every Sunday afternoon Ted would be in the same park, on the same bench, writing his stories, as usual. Tina kept going back every week. They developed the habit of telling each other things they would not normally tell anyone. As time went by, their casual encounters turned into an intimate friendship. They began to spend a lot of time together. They established the routine of going to the movies, walks, concerts, dinners, to his place, to her place. They would even go on vacations together. That, they felt, was a great thing to do, because (and in this they were both in agreement) there was nothing more annoying and kind of sad, than staring at the Rocky Mountains, the Grand Canyon, Stonehenge, Mont Saint Michel, Mount Parnassus, the vault of Saint Vita Cathedral, the Apennines, the Umbrian Valley, the Tuscan Hills, the red roofs of Bologna, or the Grand Canal, with nobody close-by, to look at, and to smile at, before screaming: “Wow!”. Somebody who in turn would look at one, and smile at one before echoing: “Wow!”  Each one came to be the other’s confidant. They were delighted to have stumbled upon each other. Notwithstanding a certain degree of physical and sexual attraction between them, they both agreed to be just friends, and keep it that way, lest they fucked up the only truly meaningful relationship they had ever had.

     That is why it came as a shocker to him when one day she called and blurted out the dreaded words: “We need to talk”. She grumbled that she was getting old, she declared that she had completely given up on men, that she had no pretensions of finding the love of her life; which she did not mind, because she had found in Ted all the company, affection, solidarity, loyalty, moral support, and understanding she needed, but she admitted that she still wanted to have a child, and her clock was ticking. Artificial insemination and in-vitro fertilization were out of the question, they were too expensive. And besides, she wanted to know whose sperm she was getting. Consequently, she had decided that it would be better for her to be impregnated by somebody she knew and cared for, a guy for whom she meant something, a man who was kind, intelligent, and handsome. And who was better than Ted to father her child?

     He was dumbfounded; he did not know what to say. He was scared to death at the prospect. On the one hand, he did not know how that whole thing would affect their dynamics, which so far, had worked so well. And on the other hand, he was thrilled at the possibility of making love with her. He was attracted to her. He had even masturbated thinking about her many times. He said he would think about it.

     They spent the weekend together, at her place. Tina was ovulating. They made love several times over the weekend. Contrary to their fears, things went well, doing it was a pleasant experience, and they enjoyed the whole thing. Five days later she had a pregnancy test. The result was negative. She was very disappointed. There was no human chorionic gonadotropin in her urine, no blastocyst in her womb. Undaunted by this failure, as she referred to it, she told him she wanted to try again the following month.

    Twenty eight days later she called him and informed him that she was ovulating, and needed him to come over. The following two nights they slept together, and copulated several times. Five days later, she had another pregnancy test, and again, the result was negative. This time Tina was very sad. She asked him whether he would be so kind as to try again, once more, the next month.

    Fourteen days after her last period she called Ted again, and told him she was ovulating, and needed him. It was a long weekend. Ted spent all three days at Tina’s place, and they must have made love about ten times. She was very hopeful this time it would work. Five days later she had another pregnancy test, and still once more the result was negative.

    Tina felt like a total failure, and yielded to depression, and the hordes of mental predators that prey on your sanity, self-confidence, and self-esteem. Not only was she incapable of establishing and maintaining a healthy romantic relationship, but also she was barren, unable to bring life to this world. She became moody, and withdrew from everything, and everybody, including Ted. She was skipping so many days at work that she was probably going to be fired. She wouldn’t answer Ted’s phone calls. He had to show up in person, and knock on her door many times until she finally opened it. Ted tried to comfort her; he stated that maybe it was his fault, maybe he was already too old and the motility of his sperm cells was not good enough anymore; moreover, children were not that important, she still could have a fulfilling life without them, she was a wonderful woman with many dreams that were within her reach; she was not alone, she had, at least, him; somebody who loved her dearly.

     Ted’s efforts were to no avail. She kept digging herself in a dark hole from which she could not leave. Because of that it was imperative that he overcame his cowardice and made the decision to confess his betrayal. But how could he? In the darkness of his room, after many sleepless nights, he was again reflecting on the crisis he was facing; struggling to come up with the appropriate words to say; and rehearsing the conversation he was going to have with her. How could he tell his best friend that he had shamefully misled her, that there was nothing wrong with her; that years before, he had decided not to have anymore children and asked to be surgically sterilized; that he was incapable of procreation; that against all reasons, and against his love for her he made the decision to hide the facts, simply because he could not pass on the opportunity to have sex with her? Ted broke down in tears. He knew telling Tina the truth was going to hurt her even more than she already was, and that there was no telling what the consequences would be.

©Text and photograph, William Almonte Jiménez, 2011