The Art of The Affair

24

I should've texted Draco a warning once I'd gotten outside.  I hadn't known how to explain what was going on, so I'd sat down on a nearby brick ledge down the street and waited.  There were only 45 minutes until closing time, and every minute that passed felt like something terrible was looming.  

Amanda, the person Ron was apparently grooming to take Draco's place in the future, exited first.  My foot bounced up and down as I waited and hoped to see Ron following closely behind.  But a couple of minutes turned into five, and there was almost no hope that my worst fear wasn't coming true.

When I finally saw Ron's shiny copper hair exit, I hid myself between buildings until his car drove past.  Once he was out of sight, I broke into a run.

Ron hadn't even bothered locking the door, as if knowing I'd be waiting nearby and that I'd come back.  The lights were out and the register drawer was open, which meant Draco had already run the report and made the drop.  The office light was off but as I approached, I knew he was in there.  When I reached the doorway, I saw his dark silhouette seated in the chair where Ron had sat.  

Before I could speak, he rose from the chair and slowly rounded the desk.  For a moment, there was a wave of relief.  Maybe Ron had chosen not to tell him, that he'd only confronted him about knowing we were together.  Maybe I'd gotten all worked up for nothing. 

"He asked me to leave or he was going to confront you," I blurt nervously.  "He knows it's you."

"I'm leaving anyway.  It doesn't matter that he knows about us."

He stops just in front of me but his voice is all wrong.  Now I know that Ron's done it, and I can only wait for the fallout to begin.

"I thought I knew you," he said softly.

I bite my lip and my hands itch to reach for him.  He's close enough to touch but something holds me back.  I keep my arms at my sides, hoping we can talk this out.

In a sudden burst of movement, he steps past me and punches the office door.  I jump at the deafening explosion and begin shaking.  

"You didn't want kids.  There was no reason to tell you."

"You told him but you couldn't tell me?"

"I didn't tell him," I plead.  "I went to bed and forgot to throw away the packaging.  He came home and found it."

"So there was no reason to tell me," he deadpans.  "None?"

I turn as he whirls and move to reach out for him, but he steps back and out of my reach.

"I had a say in it too.  Half of that DNA was mine."

The shaking increases until my teeth are chattering.  I can barely enunciate my words.

"It's my body.  And when men don't want to be a father anymore or don't want to be with the mother anymore, they can walk away and abandon everyone.  It's not just a matter of whose DNA and how much."

"I cannot believe you just said that to me."

"You never even wanted kids!" I shout, finally losing my composure.

"I said that because you didn't want kids.  I understood why that was a big issue for you so I said it to let you know that I wasn't going to push you!"

"That's not what you said!  If you'd meant that, you should've said it!  Instead, you lied about how you really felt!"

"Oh," he snorted.  "You're a ballsy one, lecturing me about lying.  You made me think you were ill, not that you'd had an abortion!"

Something breaks loose inside myself and I start crying.  Not a tear sliding down my face or a quiet cry, but an ugly cry.  He's just a big dark blur standing in front of me.  I need to find my way out of this place.  

"I can't believe you're yelling at me instead of saying 'I'm sorry you had to go through that alone'.  These aren't the actions or the words of someone who loves me."

"Neither is ending my child's life without asking me how I felt about it."

I'm so shocked I can hardly fill my lungs with air.  I have to get out of here.  

I brush past him but his heavy footsteps follow after a short pause.  I don't make it to the front door when he slams a hand down onto it.

"Let me go."

"I would've wanted her."  His voice breaks, hitting me deep in my gut.  "Her, him, they...whatever the fuck they would've been.  I would've begged you to reconsider, but I wouldn't have forced you.  In the end, I would've just wanted to be heard."

"You would've hated me for it, or guilt-tripped me into it, is what I'm hearing.  I was always clear about this.  You weren't.  Let me go."

"Let you go as in, let you leave or, let you go as in, this is it?"

"You kind of decided that.  This puts the phrase 'you hurt me' into a whole different category.  There isn't a name for this kind of hurt."

"That's why he did it."

"He wanted to turn you against me because I've hurt him, and he won.  It was all too easy."

I yank on the door a couple of times until he finally removes his hand.  I open the door and wipe my eyes so that I can see to walk.  There's no sound of footsteps coming after me.  There's no angry roar of a motorcycle engine.  

There's nothing but the eerie calm of distant traffic and sirens, and the internal sound of my heart fissuring in two.