The Stages of GriefChapter 3 Anger
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BlindsidedChapter 3 free porn video
I drove with great determination and absolutely no idea of where I was going. I just wanted to be someplace else and I was getting there quickly. I drove down the interstate highways all day. I pulled into a well-lighted rest area and there, ignoring the sign that said "No Overnight Parking", I slept.
Maybe I should have found a hotel room, but I didn't want to use my credit card, certainly not until I could make arrangements to have the bill forwarded wherever I finally ended up. I didn't want to leave a paper trail. I felt like a fugitive, which I suppose in a way I was, a fugitive from my former life.
Surprisingly, I slept soundly and didn't wake up until the sun roused me. I waited until the restrooms open and freshened up and hit the road again. I simply followed the highway, going South and East until I reached the sea, three states away from where I had started my journey. Here, in the small town I found myself, I would start my life over.
First things first. Well, there were a lot of first things. I needed a place to live, I needed a job, I needed a doctor. Amazingly, my luck seemed to have changed with travel, because all three fell into line, one after the other. A casual remark by one of the county's deputy sheriffs led me to a perfect small apartment, the converted coach house of a sprawling old house owned by a delightful elderly couple. Not only did they make me feel welcome, they put me in touch with the owner of a local grocery store who needed a bookkeeper. Mr. Shaptner, the store owner, introduced to me to a female Emergency Room Doctor who held night childbirth classes, for free, which fit well into my budget.
I worked, I ate. I did the exercises and took the vitamins the doctor recommended. At first, I spent most of the my evenings at home. I didn't bother with TV, finding that I enjoyed listening to the radio and reading. Since I was being careful with money, that led me to the local library. The first night I walked in on a literary discussion group, and there went my Thursday nights from then on.
As difficult as it was, I made arrangements with the adoption agency that my doctor gently steered me to when I finally broached the subject with her. Maybe it was weakness, but I knew I wasn't able to bear the strain of being a single mother of a bi-racial child. I feared that I would be resentful, that I would heap my own failings and the collapse of my old life on an innocent child. Much better to find a home where that child could grow up in safety and love.
I often thought about Ivan, at first anyway. I wondered how he was coping. Was he sad, was he upset at my leaving? Or did he regard my departure as "good riddance"? I had not left a note or any farewell message. I know I had hurt him terribly but he had hurt me back. I had certainly not expected him to forget, nor to forgive without a lot of work on my part, but things had gone from bad to worse. It probably was just as well it was over, for both our sakes.
Still though, I missed him. Many were the nights that I would close my eyes, slide my hand between my legs, and dream of him while I masturbated. But they became fewer and fewer. I had deliberately not brought any pictures of him from my house. I didn't want to remind myself of what I had lost.
Once I had settled in, I took steps to wind up my old life. I used one of the computers at the library to check the public records at the courthouse of my old residence. They showed that my divorce was finalized. I drove for an hour to a small city a couple of counties away and rented a box from "Mailboxes, etc." and used it to send for a copy of the divorce decree. Once that had arrived, I took the steps needed to reclaim my maiden name. I was no longer "Mrs. Cooper" I was back to "Ms. Wolcott".
I was settled in now, and comfortable, if not happy. I had made friends, I even went on a couple of dates. Of course my increasingly prominent belly didn't make for great slow dancing, much less any sexual offers. So I continued to sleep alone and rock my own boat. As good as I was getting with my fingers though, I missed having someone else rock me.
Then one morning I was adding up sales figures and searching for an invoice I could not find, my feet were suddenly wet. My water had broken. I was frantic. I was two weeks premature and had not had the final meeting with the adoption agency. Well, too late for that, as the contractions began and Mr. Shaptner called for an ambulance and his wife held my hand.
I won't go into the details that every woman who has ever given birth knows. Suffice it to say, it wasn't long before I really wished I had never laid eyes on my ex-husband, his friends or any other male on the planet. But I persevered. Its not like you can actually stop.
I finally managed to give that one last push. I heard a wail as my baby took its first breath. I sagged back in relief.
"Ms. Wolcott?"
"Yes?" I managed to answer.
"You have a beautiful baby boy." And with that the nurse laid a blanket wrapped bundle in my arms.
Oh no! I wasn't supposed to see him. I found out later my premature labor had caught the adoption agency and the doctor off guard. Instead of being whisked away immediately, I was holding him.
I tried to tell myself I wouldn't look at him. I knew if I spent even a little time I wouldn't be able to let him go. But my eyes were drawn to him, and I looked.
He WAS beautiful. His eyes were closed tightly. He had ten perfect little fingers. I unwrapped the blanket to see ten matching perfect toes. He was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen in my life.
And he was white.
Somehow, my hands moved of their own accord even as my brain refused to accept the sight before my eyes. I carefully rolled my baby boy onto his tummy and looked at the small of his back. The tiny irregular red mark was there.
All I could think of was, "That son of a BITCH!"
I was still in a daze when I checked out of the hospital along with Master Clifford Wolcott. Since I hadn't expected to keep him I had never thought of a name for my child. It had been easy though, once I thought. I had named him for my father. He and my mother had both passed away during my college years. And Clifford's last name was mine, not the man who was responsible for him.
For the next few weeks I was too busy to have time to think about the stunning surprise I had received. Stan and Muriel Ridgeway, my wonderful landlords and friends, could barely wait to start baby-sitting and let me get back to work. They had not had any children of their own and fell instantly in love with Cliff. When I came home one afternoon to hear Muriel murmuring to Cliff about how much granny loved him, tears filled my eyes. I was happier than I could recall being in ages.
Happy or not though, new life or not, I needed to deal with what exactly the hell had taken place. I sat down and methodically tried to list what I knew and what I suspected.
First and foremost. On that damn night, I had obviously had sex with Ivan. That was the only night I had sex in weeks and it never happened again. Therefore, Cliff was conceived that night and by my husband.
Therefore, Ivan's claim that he had not see me since we were dancing together was bullshit. The night was muddled, but I knew damn well I hadn't been with him before bedtime. So he had made love to me later on that night. No, I thought angrily, not "made love". The bastard had fucked me. And in a hell of a lot more ways than just that.
Had I had sex with David? I didn't know, couldn't be sure, but I damn well doubted it. I doubted it because I knew Ivan. If he had been in control enough to set this up, he would have never let someone fuck me. Besides, I also knew David. David didn't need to catch his women drunk and unconscious. He had them lining up two by two.
And why was I unable to remember much about the night? Yes, I had been drinking, perhaps more than usual since I was enjoying myself and the renewed attention from my husband. But not so much that I should have passed out like it seemed I had. Obviously it was too late to get blood work done to see if I had been drugged but I was leaning towards that conclusion.
Okay, it seemed to fit. I had been set up by my ever-loving husband and taken the fall for something I had not done. But, WHY? Whatever could have made Ivan do this to me? And then treat me like he had, like a leper when I hadn't done anything wrong? This just seemed so impossible. Had I misjudged the man I had married so badly?
I was pretty sure I knew what had happened now. I just didn't know why.
For the next few weeks I considered various scenarios. Had this been some elaborate practical joke by someone that had backfired and everyone had run for cover? Had there been some compulsion levied against Ivan, and perhaps David also, to do this? I just couldn't come up with anything.
Then one Sunday afternoon I was just leaving the spare bedroom/nursery when someone started banging on the brass knocker. I rushed to answer the door. I had just got Cliff down for a nap and was thinking seriously about taking one myself. I didn't want anyone to disturb him. I pulled the door open and stood there in shock.
My caller finally broke the long silence. "Aren't you going to ask me in?"
"Yes, please," I answered in a daze. "Come in, Evie."
She came in and I automatically cautioned her to be quiet. At her look of surprise, I tiptoed into the nursery with her and showed her Cliff. She was surprised. Apparently, however she had found me the information hadn't included this. I led her into the living room. She sat on the couch and I sat beside her. For long minutes we didn't speak. I would look at her and she would look away, Finally I had to break the silence.
"How did you find me?"
"Car insurance," she replied. "When you got your new policy, a routine notice went to the State office that keeps track of these things. I had a standing inquiry logged with them for any changes, explaining that there might be an outstanding claim on your old policy, which of course, we had issued."
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