Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The Missing Link
H.C. Klingman

I was preparing copies of my dissertation “Synchronisity in Random Sequences” when the telephone rang. It was Laura, my ex-fiancee. I had reluctantly moved out when she said she needed some time alone, a trial separation sort of thing. I hoped some fragments of the relationship lingered.
“Hi,” she said cheerily, “how’s it going?” We hadn’t talked in the two months since my low-key departure, and so I wondered about the friendly tone and why she was calling me now. She wasn’t one for chatting. There was always meaning behind her talk, so I searched for clues.
“Great,” I said, thinking she meant my Ph.D work. “Prof. Curtis and the Committee accepted it without revision. What’s up with you?”
“Busy-busy, power-shopping for new clothes and stuff, cooking up a storm, preparing for a new life. I just wondered if you could drop by tonight, I’ve got a surprise for you. Six?”
All kinds of possibilities came to mind, but I suppressed thinking about them until I had a chance to lay them out logically, so I answered, “…be fine, great, see you then” and hung up eager to give it scrutiny.
I was warmed by the notion that she might want me back. But what were the signs for that? Well, she was the one who called, she sounded happy, she asked me for six and said she was cooking so that meant dinner and deep talk, didn’t it?
For the last several months I had been in my research cocoon, and had missed many signals from her, so I started analyzing the jigsaw puzzle of our relationship. Laura wanted, above everything, to get married and have children. I wanted to wait. That was why I got alarmed when I noticed her irregular use of the Pill. Then I remembered her skipping breakfast, and other stuff, but she told me it was nothing, and not to worry.
So I hadn’t. Until now. What had she meant by “new clothes and stuff, a new life?” Was she getting maternity clothes and baby things? I remembered seeing her entering the Medical Arts Building a couple of weeks ago. Could she be sick, something awful that she wanted to tell me now in confidence? But she had looked in glowing health. And a sick person doesn’t avoid the problem by buying a new outfit or entertaining an old lover. Not Laura. She was practical.
When I considered the signs, they seemed to add up to only one thing. Her “surprise” was a reality that I must now face along with the “new life”. Yes of course, that was it, she had prepared all this to announce her pregnancy. That was just like her. Curiously, it didn’t scare me anymore. After all, I still loved her, my doctorate and a research position were in the bag, and I could now become a family man.
I ran the scenario through my head. I would ring the doorbell at six sharp, she would open the door smiling welcome as I exchanged a nosegay for a light peck on the cheek. There would be fine aromas of food, and her table would be a showpiece of crystal, bone china and stiff linen. She knew the trappings. After cocktails, a leisurely candlelit dinner would warm the atmosphere, and then, afterward, with the stage fully set, she would deliver the news, the catalyst for our future together, and we would seal our reunion as lovers should.
I got a sudden thought, as I pushed the bell, that I would politely preempt her staged annunciation, putting her at ease, by telling her straightaway that I knew and accepted what was, and that we could celebrate the event in quiet harmony. Laura, in perfume and stunning dress, opened the door and said, “C’mon in” turning to lead the way. No kiss, yet. She looked great, happy and content with her life, and the life within. Gourmet essences wafted from the kitchen.
In the foyer she stopped and asked, “Can you guess?” I could see her table set festively for two, and figured she wanted to get that question out of the way first. That was right on my wavelength.
“I think I can,” I said, “I saw you going to the doctor’s office, in preparation for the new life. I just want to say it’s alright, and that I’m hungry as hell for your cooking.” A funny expression came over her face, one at odds with the topic, as she handed me a small box. “What’s this,” I asked, “some kind of gift?”
She replied, as usual, in code, “Have you noticed something missing in your life since we broke up?”
“Yes,” I said, jumping on the wrong track of that train of thought.
Still cryptic she asked, “What requires a pair, and is useless as a single? That’s my surprise. Open it.” I saw this as a veiled reference to parenting. In the box there was a single solid gold cufflink, the lost mate to one I had at home. They were valuable heirlooms. She said, “I found it while cleaning after you left, and since I know what they mean to you I thought I would return it to you before my trip.”
I tried to work that one out as she guided me by the elbow to the door. I asked, “You’re taking a trip?”
“Yes I went to the Doctor to get all my shots, and bought a bush hat and jacket and all sorts of gear for our African Safari.”
“Our,…who’s our?
“My new boyfriend, Alec, he’s coming for dinner in a few minutes, so I don’t have more time to talk right now, I’ll buzz you when we get back.”
I was still holding my wilting posies when I started to say, …”you mean you’re not…” but the door was already up against my very red face.