Gene awakened to the sound of the blender in the kitchen. Sal had obviously slipped out of bed. He lay there numb with trepidation at the thought of having to tell Sal that he had walked out on his job at Metro Women’s Clinic.
So. Remember, you need me. And I’m here.
Gene took a deep breath and sighed.
Call Sally’s mother. She’ll take Andy overnight. Take Sally to Ermine’s for a nice dinner. Tell her everything. It’s going to be fine.
Gene took another deep breath, then rolled out of bed and went to the den, picking up the address book to find Janet Woodrow’s number.
“Mom? I’d like to take Sal to Ermine’s. Could Andy stay with you overnight?”
“Tonight? Of course. I’ll order a pizza. He can bring a movie we can watch together. What time?”
“Uh…let’s see. It’s four o’clock now. How about 6:15?”
“All right, Gene. I’m looking forward to it. I don’t want any R-rated movie, though.”
“Don’t worry. He won’t be able to find any. They’ve been disappearing lately.” Gene smiled.
“Disappearing?”
“We’ve been monitoring our entertainment a little more closely lately, so you don’t have to worry about his bringing an R-rated movie tonight.”
“OK,” she replied, and Gene could hear a smile in her voice as she added, “We’ll see you at 6:15.”
Gene walked into the kitchen next to Sally standing at the sink and put his arm around her. “Cook’s night out. I’m taking you to Ermine’s.”
“You are?” Sally Chemosh’s face was aglow with surprised delight. “What’s the occasion?”
“Remember that day I promised I’d tell you all the things leading up to my ‘mid-life crisis?’”
“Mm…hmm.” She turned fully into Gene’s embrace.
“Well, tonight’s the night.”
……….
It was almost seven o’clock when Gene lifted his wine glass towards his wife across the small table at Ermine’s. “This evening I dedicate to my family—to you, Sal, and to our children.”
“Our children?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know something I don’t know?” Sally’s arched eyebrows reflected her question.
“Yes and no.” He ate a bite of salad before he said, “I love you, Sally—a lot; and I love Andy. He’s a terrific son. And… and I love our first son as well.”
Sally looked at Gene, a frown of puzzled uncertainty on her face, but she said nothing.
“Honey, remember the day I brought you to the abortion clinic?” Sally nodded in barely visible defiance.
“Do you remember the date?”
“No.” It was a flat reply.
“The month?”
Sally sighed, lips pursed, reflecting the emotions that were stirring inside her. “Maybe.”
“It was April, fifteen years ago, on a Wednesday or a Thursday morning.”
“Wednesday,” Sally clarified quietly.
Gene reached for Sally’s left hand and held onto it with his own right one. “I remember how you struggled with my wanting us to get off to a good financial start—my desire predominantly—and your wanting to keep the baby—your desire.” Gene watched as Sally’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m the one to blame, Sal—not you. I was totally selfish—not thinking of you, and certainly not thinking of our baby.” Sally’s eyes were now focused on her plate, and Gene kept talking.
“I see things so differently now. I have gone through a mid-life crisis. I’m a different person, mainly because now…” he hesitated, taking a deep breath, “I believe in God. I think His day of rest is a great idea, and I don’t enjoy lying anymore.” He chuckled as he added, gently, “And the more I get to know your mom, the more I like her.” He tightened his hold on his wife’s hand. “You know, Sal, to succeed in life has a totally new meaning for me, and when I think about our son…” Gene’s voice dropped off as he shook his head sadly. “How could I have done it?” Now his voice became a whisper. “In my dream, Andy asks me how much do I love him, and I tell him how much. He falls asleep. I start to pick him up when I hear the same words in a similar voice—only older. ‘Dad, I love you. Would you do anything for me? Would you give up everything in the world if you had to? Dad, I love you!’
“Sal, it’s the saddest, most gut-wrenching voice you could ever imagine. And then those heartbeats—slow, loud. You can’t help but count them. They almost count themselves. Fourteen. Sal, that’s how old he would have been—our first child, when I started having the nightmare. Fourteen.” He shook his head again, slowly, sadly. “I miss him, Sal.”
“How can you miss someone you’ve never met—never even seen?” Sally’s voice hinted of disdain, but there was also a pleading sincerity in her attempt to understand.
Chemosh shook his head yet again. “I don’t know, but I do.” His voice was full of emotion as he added, “I’m glad I do. He’s still our son, Sal. He’s still our first child—not Andy.” Chemosh swallowed, still shaking his head. “There was no reason for him to have to die, Sal. It was a great loss to us all.”
“Well, I’m beginning to understand the struggle you seem to be having at work.”
“I… I quit today, Sal.” Gene let go Sally’s hand as if pre-empting the rejection he feared. “Just before noon I walked into the lab and saw three tiny bodies, each one pieced together, on trays. I felt like the fiend of the earth. Three children, with all their combined potential—lifeless on the counter.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t handle it. I walked into my office and picked up my briefcase and my plaques and pictures…and then I drove away.”
Sally sat there, her eyebrows high and her mouth open, literally speechless.
“Remember my telling you that day when Andy got hurt how God told me to get home fast and he’d take care of the traffic? Well, today as I drove out the gate of the clinic, He told me not to look at the picketers, but to lift my hand to acknowledge them. ‘They’re not perfect, but they know the truth,’ He said to me, ‘and now you do, too.’”
Sally still said nothing, but Chemosh saw his wife take a deep, slow breath.
“Sal, you’re always so good to let me unload on you, but I have to hear what you’re thinking. You mean the world to me.”
“I feel like I’m being dragged into your mid-life crisis.”
“But I didn’t ask for this crisis, Sal. That nightmare was just there. I had to address it.”
“I’m not sure Joe Denspot has done you any favor. You hate your job—no longer have one; and dredging up the past isn’t very healthy to my way of thinking.”
Gene shook his head slowly, searching Sally’s eyes. “Oh, Sal, I’ll find another job. And Joe’s had three abortions himself. But that man has such a peace about him.”
“Really.” Sally said the word with just a hint of disgust shading her curiosity.
“Yes. I think he almost lives for helping people like me come to grips with the fact that we’ve killed our children…”
“What?”
“Let me finish, Sal. There’s a purpose for what he does for clients like me. He knows—first hand—that peace comes when we acknowledge our aborted children as our own family members, embracing their memory—regretting their death—asking for God’s forgiveness.”
He waited a long moment, watching Sal as she sat opposite him, her head down. “Do you know what I want to do, Sal?” He paused another moment, desperately attending to his wife even as she stared into her lap. Then he took a deep breath and clasped her hand in both his, announcing in a clear whisper, “I want to name our first son.”
Sally looked up at her husband, her eyes and mouth both wide open as she whispered, “Name him! Why?”
“Yes… to give him his place in our family.”
Now Gene leaned forward and clasped Sally’s other hand. “Would you help me name him, Sally? I want so much for him to have a name.”
Sally said nothing, sighing a long sigh, shocked at all her husband had shared, but keenly aware of how sincere he was. Besides, she couldn’t deny that what he had said struck a chord in her own heart. She looked up at him, sympathetic but still bewildered.
“What about Andy?”
“I’m not sure. What do you think?”
“Ooh… He’s an only child, Gene. I don’t want him resenting that fact—or us.” She smiled, a cynical expression on her face. “Maybe you should ask Joe. He’s the one who brought us to this place.”
“He’s just the catalyst, Sal. I really believe there’s been some higher and loftier orchestration.” Chemosh squeezed his wife’s hands. “Thanks for listening.” After a long moment, he let go her hands and reached for his glass of water, draining it before continuing. “You know, Hon, if there’s one word to describe God, I think it would be hope. Well, two words—hope and love. God’s the essence of both. He’ll show us how to tell Andy. In the meantime, Sal, you’re such a wonderful wife and you’re my best friend! I just want to tell you that I love you so very much. You’re a…a precious gift to me, you know that?”
Much later, lying awake in bed, Gene Chemosh addressed the Rule Maker. “Thanks for helping me talk with Sally. But how do we tell Andy, Sir? My wife and son mean so much to me. They both really love me, God.”
So does John. And little by little, he’s more and more loved.
A puzzled frown appeared on Chemosh’s face momentarily. “John?”
Later.
Gene Chemosh, exhausted, fell into a deep sleep almost immediately, the puzzled frown still on his face.
……….
The following day was a long Sunday for Marc Garman. The weather didn’t help, as the sky was overcast with periodic drizzle. He felt about as alone as he’d ever felt. Truth to tell, he longed to talk with Carla, whose presence he was confident would help dispel the low feeling. But she wasn’t here, and he spent a good part of the day reliving those events preceding and following Trent’s death and the trauma that accompanied them.
It was the microburst of these same feelings and memories that he’d been unable to handle at Covella’s the day before. He regretted walking out on Chemosh, but Marc couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting opposite someone like the very person who had killed his helpless little boy and sent off the tiny body to be dismembered for research.
The revulsion he’d felt in the booth at Covella’s surfaced many times that day, and each time it was accompanied by a depressed feeling that bordered on despair.
Late in the evening, however, the last words said by Chemosh the day before finally registered. “I quit today. I wish I’d never started.” Now Marc wanted—needed—to talk with this man. How had this profound change come about? Without a phone number, he leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
Suddenly, he sat straight up and exclaimed out loud, “Joe Denspot will know!”