This story was written as a reminder that November is National Adoption Month and because adoption is an issue close to the author's heart.
WARNING: Story contains little stroke material :)
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The halls vibrated with the music that flowed through them. Organ music swelled through the huge, drafty church and out the open doors. Passing people stopped and listened to the familiar tunes and the harmonic voices of the worshippers as they sang a 'thank you' to God for the birth of his son. After they had dragged themselves away from the church and the nostalgia that had surfaced, many of the people out on that cold Christmas night felt more in the spirit of the holiday. Spare change turned to a ten-dollar bill thrown into the hat of a homeless man. Those who had once turned an indifferent shoulder to the woman who dropped all of her shopping bags in the snow now bent cheerfully to lend a helping hand. Christmas spirit passed from person to person, spurred by the beautiful music coming from the pristine church on 5th street.
Joy. That was her name. Yet when she saw the smiling crowds of children after the service, or the throng of adults sharing gossip over a cup of steaming hot chocolate, she felt no joy. She was an outsider in this world she had longed for, but now loathed.
She stood leaning against the far wall of the church basement, her eyes following his every movement. Her husband certainly moved a lot, but that was to be expected as he was most certainly glad-handling people and encouraging them to use him as their insurance agent. Suspicious slits watched as David approached a woman younger than her with a flirtatious smile and a warm handshake. As she disappeared in a swirl of long black coat and red skirt, she felt several cold eyes on her back.
But what did she care? The whole church had disapproved of her marriage to David in the first place, and she knew more than one person had told him that marrying her was a bad idea. She was young, poor; he was older and rich by comparison. She had no church background, and he had been a member of St. Mary's since before she had been born. It was obvious that their marriage was now in trouble. The snake-eyed women talked about her constantly, even when she was near them. "Gold digging hussy," was what they called her, in addition to "tramp." What did they know of her problems?
She really only had one problem. She wanted to have children. David couldn't. She had talked to him endlessly about the possibilities of adoption, sperm donors; but David would have none of it. Now she cried herself to sleep at night and David slept in the guest bedroom. He was cold, indifferent, so changed now. He was unrecognizable as the man she had fallen in love with and married.
She had only been 20 when she met the charming, older insurance man, but she had fallen head over heels for him. Sure, there was a 30-year age gap between them, but neither of them had noticed really, or even cared, until they had announced their engagement. That's when the flurry of resistance had started; her mother had told her flat out "Don't do it. He's too old for you." David had encountered the same reactions from his co-workers and his church friends. But the two of them had been in agreement: they were in love and they WERE getting married.
Half a year later, wedding bells chimed from the steeple of St. Mary's. Joy McAllister and David Skreenes converted to Mr. and Mrs. David Skreenes. For the first time in her young life, Joy had been content. She was finally where she was supposed to be. As they walked back down the aisle as husband and wife, Joy just knew that despite what the naysayers thought, she and David would be a happy couple.
Another year and a half, and now here she was, wondering why she had ever believed that the relationship would work. She shook her head and tried to stop the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her feet took her automatically to the car and after brushing snow from her open-toed sandals, she slipped into the front seat to wait for David.
Amazingly, he noticed her absence. As she sat in the passenger seat, the door on the driver's side suddenly opened and he slid into the car brushing snow from his shoulders. "It's fine if you do this at home," he said, looking mightily annoyed with her. "But at church it's just embarrassing." He put the keys into the ignition and started the car.
"You're acting like a child, you know," he chided as the pulled away from the church. No doubt the scolding would last all the way home, but Joy didn't mind. At least now he was talking. A welcome change from the silence she faced at home.
"I'm not the one who won't tell the woman he supposedly loves why he doesn't want to have children. Now that's childish." She turned to face him. "I thought we agreed that we would always tell each other everything." She watched his handsome face contort with anger, and knew that she had touched a nerve. But still, he said nothing. Indeed, the only sound to be heard was the swoosh of the wipers against the windshield, and the low rumble of cars around them.
Joy turned to face the window again. "I can't understand unless you tell me what bothers you, David." No response and she didn't bother him again. Instead, she pictured what it would be like to have a child in her arms, and the thought nearly brought tears to her eyes.
He pulled into the long circular drive, letting her out at the front door as was his custom before he pulled into the garage. She watched him maneuver the big car effortlessly, her strong husband who was perfect in every way, except one. She resolved that she would find out his secret, and help him through it whatever it was, before their marriage dissolved to pieces.
She entered the house and unlocked the garage door for him, letting him into the kitchen. She always made him a late night snack and she did so tonight, not bothering to ask if he was hungry or not. It was one of the few things that allowed her to feel close to him now, one of the few things that he appreciated.
It was past one o'clock when she delivered a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs to him in his office. A kiss on the cheek and muttered thanks before she was all but shooshed out of the room like a bug. "I set up an appointment for marriage counseling," she said softly as she backed out the door. "Whether or not you attend is up to you, but something needs to happen David. I can't go on living like this." He paused in his work, but didn't look up; her watery brown eyes regarded him sadly as she closed the door. It was Christmas, and she was alone. Hardly the way a Christmas ought to be spent.
