The Last Bird of Youth Flying Away

Our wedding was coming up quickly; in 90 days we'd be husband and wife. We were both excited, we were both nervous at the big step we were taking. It felt like we were leaving behind our youth and entering adulthood. Yes, I know we were both in our mid-20's and have been considered adults for several years, but it has never felt like it. Now I felt like that bar mitzvah line would finally feel real: "Today, I am a man."

Marriage meant more to me than just wedded bliss. I was looking forward to being part of a family. My whole life, it had been just my mom and I, although most of the time, it felt like just me. I remember being a very lonely kid. Not saying anything against my mom, but a single mother, working two, sometimes three, minimum wage jobs to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, meant that I spent a lot of my childhood alone.

When mom died five years ago, I was devastated. She was my whole world. I was in my final year of college, already having been recruited by a company for a great job, ready to start my career. I would finally be in a position to give mom the life she deserved, when she left me. I had been working since I was 10, doing everything I could, from mowing lawns to working fast food, just to help take the pressure off my mother. I had dreamed of buying her a house and being able to allow her to quit all her jobs. Now, when I finally could give her a life a leisure, I was alone.

But that's when Leslie entered my life. We had dated a few times before my mother's death, but then I withdrew from the world in my grief. It was Leslie who sought me out and made me re-enter the world. She wouldn't let me abandon my studies; she made me finish the semester, convincing me that my mother would have wanted me to begin my career, to move forward with my life. It was what my mother had worked so hard for, for so many years. I couldn't let my mom down.

Leslie became my world. Within two years, we were engaged. Now, five years after my mom's passing, we were to be wed. Leslie's family would be my family. Her two brothers and her sister would be my siblings. I got along with all of them, although her parents were a different story. From the beginning, they let it be known that they felt Leslie was too good for me. Leslie assured me that when they really got to know me, they'd change their minds. I loved Leslie, but in five years, the only change in their thinking seemed to be against me.

Leslie was now off in Europe with her college friends -- they'd gone on a spring trip every year, since they were sophomores at Strathmore. They started with spring breaks in Orlando, Cabo, and South Padre Island. Then after graduation, they traveled to Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. This year, they were in Prague, for the final concert of their favorite band, the Newberry Five.

There was a gulf between my life and Leslie's. I never dated -- any money I earned had to go into the family coffers. We were always just a step away from the streets. Leslie grew up with luxury, vacations, and security. She thought nothing of jetting off with her friends. If it had not been for scholarships and grants, I would never have been able to go to college. As a junior, I finally began getting enough funds to go one a few dates. Luckily, Leslie was one of those few. I think my inexperience was what attracted Leslie to me.

Leslie told me that she knew this trip would probably be her final tour with her friends, since we planned to start our family as soon as we tied the knot. She quit her job, planning to be a stay-at-home mom and homemaker. My salary was enough to support us. She was sure she'd be pregnant right away. She'd already gone off the pill, wanting to have it cleared out of her system before our honeymoon. "You won't mind using condoms till then, honey. It'll make our wedding night so special." I didn't really mind, although I missed going bareback. But I wanted children as desperately as she did. Our engagement was coming to an end after three years, and we were both ready for a family.

Her mother was angry with her daughter, since several "important" wedding planning events had been set for the period while she'd be gone. Since the two big events were choosing the caterer and the wedding cake, Leslie insisted that I could do it. Other events could be moved. Her mother, never one of my fans, reluctantly agreed to walk me through the process.

"Steve, it'll give you a chance to bond with my mother and give her the opportunity to see how wonderful you are." Leslie insisted. I had my own doubts, but as I was running my hands over her naked body and she was returning the favor, I could only agree with whatever she wanted. When I left her at the airport, I assured her that I'd do my best to impress her mother.

When I saw that the Prague concert was going to be available on pay-per-view, I signed up immediately, setting up to record it for Leslie. I hoped to find her in the crowd shots -- she'd love that, and it would give her a memory to last a lifetime.

It gave me a memory to last a lifetime. There was my fiancée, with two of her friends, dancing topless on the stage. Shaking their breasts at the audience, then pressing them against the bare backs of the band members, who were dressed in just pants and bling around their necks. I could see my wife's hands snake around the torsos of the guitar players, while she licked their shoulders and necks.

As I watched, this didn't seem like an impromptu act; this wasn't audience members rushing onto the stage. There was no security hurrying to clear the stage, there were no other topless dancers or anybody else on stage who wasn't either a band member or part of my wife's group.

As the concert came to a close, the band members took a bow while the girls jumped around, clapping and screaming. Then, to a standing ovation, the Newberry Five left the stage.

There my fiancée, leaving the stage with two guitar players, both grabbing a cheek of her ass as she laughed and kissed one, then the other. While I could only see their backs, I could tell by the position of their other arms that her breasts were not being ignored.

I'm sure the credits rolled. I don't know if I didn't see them because my sight was blurry, or because I was staring blindly at the TV, seeing only the end of my love.

The next day, the phone rang while I was boxing up the last of Leslie's stuff in my house, minus the jewelry I'd bought her, which included her engagement ring. "Oh, I don't want to risk losing it in Europe," she'd offered when I noticed it wasn't on her hand the morning she left. Now in hindsight, I thought that was funny. She had actually lost it in Europe. When I answered the phone, her mother angrily inquired why I wasn't at the caterer for the tasting.

It took me a moment to realize that somehow, she didn't know. I had thought of nothing else every waking minute through the night and that morning, I just couldn't believe that everyone didn't already know. "Why?" I asked. "Why would I go to the caterers?" I was honestly bewildered.

"Why?" her mother almost screamed over the phone. "To pick the food for the wedding. What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?"

"No, I wish. No, I'm just packing up Leslie's shit. I'll leave it in your driveway later." I realized I was mumbling. No wonder she thought I was drunk. I cleared my throat and spoke up. "There's no reason for the caterer, since there'll be no wedding."

After a short silence, she began to stutter. "Wha, wha, wha..." She paused and regrouped. "What do you mean there's no wedding? We've already paid all the deposits." Her anger seemed to solidify her pronunciation. "You better get your head out of your ass, Steve. There is definitely going to be a wedding."

It was my turn to be silent for a moment. Then, "OK," I said. "But not with me. Your daughter has made some new connections in Prague, although she'll have to pick her groom from her multiple choices."

I hung up and shut off my phone. I didn't need this, and truthfully, I wasn't a fan of Leslie's mother, or her father. Both had always seemed to tolerate me for Leslie's sake but just barely. They always had made it clear that they considered me to be pond scum, unworthy of their beautiful, talented daughter. They only begrudgingly admitted that having a good job and owning my own home made me a barely acceptable candidate.

Luckily, I was able to unload all Leslie's boxes onto her parents' driveway before her mother got home. I imagine that her old man was out playing his weekly golf game. I even had time to stack the boxes in a wall, blocking their garage doors.

I'm not a drinker, but when I got home, I poured myself a stiff drink from Leslie's bottle of bourbon. Two slugs into the glass and my stomach revolted. The toasted muffin I'd eaten for breakfast joined the whiskey in the toilet. I wasn't even going to be allowed the solace of being drunk. I couldn't stop thinking about Leslie, and now I couldn't even dull the memories. Crystal clear were my memories of the girl I'd loved. Crystal clear were memories of times I should have been suspicious but was blind in my trust and love. Were all those girls' trips and girls' nights as innocent as I had always believed? Some of her friends were already married, all had partners of some kind. But I'd seen her friends doing things which wouldn't have passed the husband test. I'd always thought a couple were sluts; hell, they had been sluts in college, according to some of the stories Leslie has told. She'd been laughing at their exploits but assured me that she never approved of their easy virtue.

Now I wondered how I could have ignored the red flags. For over eight years, she'd hung out with sluts, traveled with sluts, and obviously partied with sluts. How could I not have seen this? How stupid was I?

Very. Very, very stupid. Packing her stuff up, I had found lingerie I had never seen before. Lingerie which wasn't new. There were short- and low-cut dresses I wasn't familiar with. We'd dated for over 5 years, yet she had sexy clothes and underthings she'd never worn for me. Petty of me, but I used some scissors before packing those things.

I found myself sitting on the couch when the pounding on the door brought me back to the present. I don't know how long I'd been sitting there, but my growling stomach insisted it was a long time. Looking at the clock, it was already 7 PM. Almost 24 hours had passed since I watched the concert for the first time.

As I opened the door the pounding stopped and the door was shoved, hard, into me. There were my not-to-be in-laws. Leslie's father looked ready to tear me apart.

"What the FUCK do you mean 'There's no wedding?' he snarled at me, before shoving me backwards into the house. His wife stepped in, smirking at me.

"There's no wedding." I said dully, in a monotone. "Leslie's made other arrangements." That brought them up short. They looked at each other, puzzled.

"What are you talking about?" her father demanded. "We've been trying to call Leslie, but she's not answering.

"She's probably just busy," I offered. "She looked very busy; last I saw her." They looked at me, with obvious questions on their faces. To answer, I turned on the TV and queued up the Prague concert to when their daughter and friends appeared on stage. They watched, dumbfounded as their pride and joy flopped her tits around the stage. I had already watched it twice before and was surprised that I had missed her running her hand up the lead guitarist's leg, into his crotch. It hit me hard, and I ran back to the bathroom to retch again. Nothing came up but bile.

I rinsed my mouth and returned to the living room. They'd turned off the TV.

"That doesn't mean anything," her father insisted. "She just having a last fling of freedom before settling down." In his defense, he didn't seem to believe what he was saying, but his wife was nodding, determinedly.

"Yes, now you stop this nonsense and forget about this. I'll reschedule the caterer and ..." she began, before I cut her off.

"There is no wedding. I don't think this was a unique occurrence, and I can't, won't, marry a woman I can't trust." I spoke with determination and decisiveness. "Now leave, or I'll call the police to have you removed."

The pair stared at me for a moment. I could see the father's knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists and his breathing became rushed. After a moment, though, he calmed down and forced himself to relax. "This isn't over," was all he said, as he ushered his wife out the door.

The phone rang 8:00 AM the next morning. Caller ID showed Leslie's number. I had figured out that the concert had ended four hours before I had recorded it, and now it was approaching two days since the concert ended, and apparently Leslie had finally come up for air.

I'd figured that her parents had reached her by now, so I was surprised when she immediately began by apologizing for not calling for a day. "My phone died, and it doesn't seem to charge as well with all the electrical conversions and such."

Surprised, I was silent, until Leslie started in, "Steve! Steve? Are you there? Can you hear me."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you now. How was the concert? Did you have fun?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, we had a ball." She gushed. I wondered if the choice of words was deliberate. How often had she rubbed my nose in her infidelity? I could tell from the giggling in the background that I was being mocked.

"Well, I recorded the concert for you. Haven't watched it yet, but if it was that good, I'll have to do it when we hang up." Two could play this game.

Leslie was quiet, but I could hear, "Oh my God," muttered in the background. Leslie recovered. "No, honey, why don't you save it, and we can watch it together when I get home. Won't that be fun?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, maybe." I was quiet for a moment. "Well, I have to go." I paused again. Then I added, just before hanging up, "Would you ask Sue if that's a birthmark or a tattoo on her right tit? I couldn't tell from the video."

I turned off my phone.

I changed the locks on my house. Took Leslie's name off every shared account I could or just closed the account where I couldn't separate us. Our household checking account we used to pay bills out of, I took my half and left hers and had my name taken off. I had her as my beneficiary and contact person on my insurance and with HR at work. I changed those. I pulled up the list we used for wedding invitations and had an insta-print place send out postcards announcing the cancellation of the wedding. I managed to accomplish all that before Leslie returned from Europe, a week early.

Since her key wasn't working, she pounded on the door, begging me to answer, for over half an hour. At least, that's what my neighbors told me later. I was staying with my friend Bill since she had left a voice mail saying that she was returning early, that we had to talk. I felt no need and had no desire to talk. Even less to listen, which I'm sure is what she planned for me to do.

I warned the gatekeepers at my office that Leslie was persona non grata from now on, and her attempts to contact me at the office were managed handily by them. Our car park is in a private, fenced lot, so she would not be able to corner me when I was arriving or leaving work. I saw her parking outside the office from my window and began taking the back exit when I left work. After a few days, I didn't see her car anymore. Clever girl had rented a car and followed me to my friend's home. She pulled up, blocked my car and jumped out, frantically begging me to talk to her.

"Nothing happened, Steve. Please, we got high and a little wild, but nothing happened. I promise!" she cried.

"So, you didn't have a 'ball', Leslie?" I asked calmly.

She looked nonplussed for a moment, then said, "What do you mean, honey."

She physically jumped when I snarled at her not to call me that. "Don't you fucking 'honey' me, you treacherous bitch. You can go fuck whomever you want. We're done. Leave me alone."

As I turned to leave, she grabbed my arm and begged again, "Please, please. I love you."

Bill came out of the house, asking if I was alright. I shook Leslie's grip off my arm and said, "Just keep this bitch away from me," as I stormed into the house. My pal stopped Leslie from following me. When I looked out the window, she was stumbling to her car, head down and weeping.

Mutual friends began approaching me, telling me how much Leslie loved me and how perfect we were together. I had a stock answer. "Leslie is lucky to have a friend like you. However, mention that bitch in my presence again and we'll not be friends." I was not shocked at how many friends I lost. Leslie was the more social one of us. I was sure that the few who remained friends with me got the worst of the deal, and I appreciated them more for that.

She'd been back a month, and I'd returned to my home when a soft knocking at my door announced her parents' return. I'd noted the difference between the forceful pounding her father had done last time and the almost timid tapping now.

When I opened the door, I stood blocking entrance to them. I was relieved to see that Leslie wasn't accompanying them. "What?" I said, dismissively.

"Can we come in?" her father asked.

"No."

"Well, can we talk?" He demanded, anger reflected in his speech, although he tried anxiously to suppress it.

"Talk." I responded.

"Look, whatever is going on, you have to step up. Leslie's pregnant, and the wedding has to happen." His wife commanded, to his irritation. "Let me handle this," he pleaded.

I laughed, stopped, and laughed again. I felt refreshed, somehow. Karma. Fucking karma. The laughter obviously irritated her parents. So, I laughed again.

"So, you want me to step up and give the kid a name." I asked pleasantly.

"Yes, yes," they both responded, heads bobbing like a bobble head doll. "You have to do the responsible thing," her mother added.

I stepped off the porch and stood between them, putting my arms around their shoulders. Their faces lit up, hopefully.

"Did you know," I began, "That Leslie and I couldn't make love before she left because her period was beginning? Apparently, her last period? So no," I had to laugh, "I won't be stepping up. Perhaps the Newberry Five might be willing?"

I doubled over, unable to breathe when her father buried his right hand in my stomach. I collapsed onto the pavement when he smashed his other fist into the back of my head. I may have blacked out; I'm not sure, as I was only aware of a desperation to get air into my lungs. Her mother may have whacked me with her purse, although again, my awareness of events was way below normal. When I began to get control of my breathing, Leslie's parents were angrily driving away.

Things settle down after that. I still got desperate emails and voicemails from my former fiancée, each professing love and longing for only me out of all the swinging dicks out there. I could only wish that had once been true, so I never bothered responding to any of her messages. We'd burned through the friends that were willing to lose my friendship to carry her messages, so I prepared to go on with life.

Surprisingly, it wasn't hard to find dates, it was just hard for me to find any interest in dating. Women at work seemed to rush to offer me condolences and consolation, and even some of Leslie's extended group of friends seemed to be anxious to 'help me forget that cheating bitch.' I wasn't crazy about her friends before, now I was even less impressed with them. I had already had one disloyal bitch in my life; why would I want to add another?

The friends I had left took me out drinking and literally shoved girls my way. I wasn't interested in anything but passing the time. I was up for any guys' night, from poker to bowling, or just hitting a bar. Anything to escape sitting at home and descending into the pool of misery that my memories of Leslie had become.

I did go on dates for the first few months, if only for the relief that sex gave me, but it was obvious that there was no emotional connection. One woman who I thought I could become attached to, Stephanie, just sighed at me in the morning, telling me if I ever got my head on straight again to call her. But, please, not before then.

Another screamed at me that she wasn't a whore. Apparently, I had only made a passing tribute to any idea of foreplay and had basically just jumped on and off. She recognized the 'bump and dump' for what it was and was offended by my treatment of her. Intellectually, I was embarrassed that I had treated any human being like that. But emotionally, I found I didn't really care, which told me I was likely to repeat the performance in the future. I began dating less.

It was approaching the fourth month since the Newberry Five concert, when there was again a timid knock at my door. I was surprised to find Leslie on my doorstep, red-eyed and looking distressed. I looked to see if she was showing -- I had no idea what to expect, but I couldn't see any sign of pregnancy, so without thinking I asked the question.

"Did you lose the kid?"

Leslie looked horrified, and blurted out, "NO! NO!", loudly.

"Leslie, why are you here?" I inquired, feeling exhausted at the prospect of dealing with her.

"My daddy kicked me out." She sobbed after she replied. "Steve, I need help. If you ever loved me..."

I stepped back and began to close the door.

"PLEASE! Can we just talk?" she pleaded.

All the questions I'd been dwelling upon every minute of the last few months rushed into my brain at that moment. With the hope of finally getting some answers, I opened the door and stood back for her to enter.

I gestured to the couch and went into the kitchen. I returned with a beer and a glass of wine for Leslie. She looked at it sadly and said, "I wish." I realized my error and returned with a ginger ale. I sat down and sipped the beer.

Leslie looked at me for a moment. I stared back unspeaking, and her gaze shifted to the floor. We sat silently for a good five minutes before she looked up again.

"I've got nothing to say," I stated. "If you're going to keep quiet, we might as well end this now."

"I'm sorry..." Leslie began.

I cut her off, my anger overcoming my intention to stay mum. "You're sorry? For what? Not talking? For screwing half of Europe? For being pregnant? For treating me like shit? What? What?"

"I, I, I'm sorry," she said. "For all of it." I thought it was interesting she didn't deny screwing half of Europe.

She was looking silently at the floor again. "Leslie, why are you here?"

"My daddy kicked me out. He's been after me to have an abortion, but I refused." She looked at me, sadly. "It's not the baby's fault. It was mine." She stared at me, waiting for an argument. I made none, so she continued. "Now, it's too late and he told me he didn't want some..." She broke down, sobbing. "... some pregnant slut wandering around his house. He said he never wanted to see me or my bastard again."

I was shocked. Leslie had always been a 'daddy's girl', her father's pride and joy. Leslie and he had always had a close connection. I couldn't imagine him abandoning her. I guess her parents finally thought I was good enough for her.

For several minutes I sat, listening to her crying. I got up and retrieved a box of tissues for her.

As she wiped her eyes and nose, I asked quietly, "Leslie, what happened? Were you cheating on me all along?"

Her sobs stopped as she looked up, wide-eyed. "NO! I never... I would never..." She stopped when the obvious lie came off her lips. "I mean, before, I never..."

"All those girls' trips with those sluts? You never? They never...?" I felt my snarl and tried to dial it back, with only some success.

"I never did. I NEVER did." She sounded sincere.

"And the other sluts?" I pressed.

"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "Sometimes, some of them..." She looked away and wiped her eyes again. "Sue, she liked to have 'adventures'," she called them. Some of the girls would go along with her. They'd tease me because I never would." In almost a whisper, she added, "I loved you."

"If I could believe that," at those words she looked up at me, ready to, what, assure me that I could? I waved aside her interruption. "IF I could believe that what made this time different? Or are you going to tell me this is an immaculate conception? The Newberry Savior of Prague?"

Leslie seemed to be deflated into herself. She put her hands on her stomach. "No, there wasn't anything immaculate about this." Tears began streaming down her cheeks again.

"So, what happened, this time?" I pressured her for an answer. "What made this time different?"

Her eyes returned to the floor as she began. "Sue, she knew the new manager of the band. That's why she set up the trip to Prague. The band was there for two days before that concert, and we partied with them from the first day they arrived in Prague."

"So, you girls just loved the band so much you just flopped down and spread your legs?" I couldn't keep quiet.

"No! At first, we just partied. But they had drugs. So many drugs. We kind of lost ourselves. I don't know what happened, but I found myself having sex..." She began crying again, repeating, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

I remained silent, waiting her out. Finally, she continued. "I don't remember how it started, but they kept offering drugs and it felt so... I don't know, free. We all just kept..." She sat silent for several moments. I thought she was reminiscing. I finally lost patience.

"Kept fucking everyone? Kept taking drugs? What? How did you end up on stage, topless? Was that just a continuation of the bed hopping?" I smirked.

Leslie flinched at my anger. "Kinda. Most of the time around the band, we were naked. When the manager had us go on stage topless, we were flying high -- it didn't seem like a big deal. It seemed," she paused, "adventurous.

"I'm not sure what all the drugs they gave us were... I know we started with ecstasy and cocaine, but there were other drinks and pills that the band had that, well, took you outside of yourself." She flushed. "It made you horny, and somehow, nothing mattered except the high and the feelings of touch and, I don't know... Connection. Connections with others."

She paused again, looking away in thought and reluctance to meet my eyes. "Even now, I remember the sex was amazing." She was quiet for several minutes. I gripped the arms of my chair, trying to control my growing rage. She continued, looking almost shyly at me. "I never intended to have sex. I'd never cheated on you, but then I just found myself touching a man, while another man was already fucking me." She looked puzzled. "I don't know how I got there, but it seemed, well, almost natural. After that, we never dressed, and the drugs and sex were just what we did."

Suddenly, she burst into tears again, sobbing frantically. "Steve, I never... I didn't want... I couldn't..." She dissolved into babbling incoherently, before collapsing off the couch and onto the floor, where she curled into a fetal position, whimpering miserably.

I left her there and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I had no idea what to do with what she'd said. Apparently, she willing got high on a mixture of drugs and got naked and fucked. But it all felt natural. "Fuck you," I thought. I felt surprisingly calm. I went back out and sat down with my coffee, waiting for Leslie to compose herself.

After she had been quiet for a while, I thought she had fallen asleep, but she suddenly got up and sat back down on the couch, hugging herself as if freezing cold. Her eyes remained downward. Finally, without looking up, she begged, "Will you help me?"

Help her? How, with what? I wondered. Instead, I asked, "Can't the Newberry Five help you? I mean, isn't one of them the father?"

She didn't begin with the tears again; maybe she was cried out. But she began shivering and shaking her head until I honestly feared it would fly off. "No, no, no, no," she repeated for a few minutes before becoming still and silent again. I waited.

"The band didn't fuck me..." Leslie whispered. "There were seven of us girls and only five band members. And the manager. Sue and the others rotated through the band. They kept them busy."

"Well, who were you with?" I wondered.

She gulped back a sob and mumbled something. "What?" I asked.

Louder, she repeated, "The Roadies. The roadies." Her voice rose. "The fucking road crew. And then Sue invited in the local crew from the venue. She kept giving me more drugs and yelling 'dalsi', while everyone watched me get fucked."

"Dalsi?" I inquired.

She looked up at me sadly and said, "Next, in Czech."

"She had you gangbanged? I thought she was your friend." I felt disgusted with Leslie and Sue.

"She told me I'd been a goody-goody too long. That I needed to really get fucked." She pulled out a tissue, wiping her eyes, then her nose. "I think maybe Sue drugged me on purpose."

"What? So, she could get you gangraped?" I asked calmly.

"Yes! I think that's what happened. You have to help me. It wasn't my fault!" I could see hope in her eyes, eyes turned to me with a begging puppy dog look.

"Sweetheart, you never wanted to have sex with anyone there?" I inquired.

"No, of course not. I love you." She almost moaned her answer, in pain.

"You never screwed the band members, just the roadies who, what, raped you?" I followed up.

"No. I mean, no, not the band members. Just the roadies and the Czechs." She was looking at the floor now.

"So, the two guitarists who were grabbing your ass and who you were kissing as you walk off stage, never had you?" She looked up at me, panic in her eyes. I continued, "The one guitarist whose cock you were stroking on stage, never had sex with you?"

"No, Steve. Believe me, I never..." I cut her off before she could continue.

"Those guys must have been really disappointed. They sure looked ready to fuck you when they left the stage. Or had they watched you fuck all those roadies and figured you were just a diseased whore?" I knew I was being cruel, but couldn't help myself. "You never cheated on me before, on any of the trips or girls' nights, before Prague?" I was glaring at her. Her eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape.

"No, no. I would never have cheated on you. I was.. I was drugged. I would never have done it if I hadn't been drugged." She was still not looking at me. Her eyes roamed the room.

"So, all that lingerie you had, all those sexy low-cut dresses, things I'd never seen before... Whom were you wearing those for? Huh? It sure the hell wasn't for me. I would have remembered.

"Leslie, I can't trust you. I did, for way too long. Now I think you were running around on me whenever you got together with the rest of your slut club. You have used lingerie I've never seen. Sexy clothing, I've never seen. You were grabbing a guy's cock ON STAGE, in front of thousands of people." I paused.

"The kicker is, after fucking everyone for almost two days after the concert, when you called me, you weren't crying. You weren't upset. You weren't trying to get away from your friends who, according to you, set you up for a gangrape.

"In fact, you insisted that you HAD A BALL. AS IN 'I GOT BALLED!'. I heard the giggling in the background as you rubbed my face in your infidelity. Now, you claim to have been raped. Now you want me to help poor innocent you. Now... you can forget it. Even your own father recognizes what a slut you are." I got up and opened the front door. "Get out."

She turned on the tears again. "Please. If you ever loved me... I have nowhere to go. I need your help."

"Why? Get your job back and get your own place." I told her.

"I can't. Since the video of the concert came out, they wouldn't take me back." She looked up miserably. "They won't even give me a recommendation now. Especially since you've told everyone what sluts we all were. Even my friends won't talk to me. Please, Steve, I need help."

"Then tell me the truth. When did you start fucking other people?" I stood by the door, holding it open. Her choice, answer or leave.

She collapsed back onto the couch and grabbed more tissues. I could hardly hear her whispered answer. "When we got engaged."

I was dumbfounded. "I asked you to marry me, so you took that as a license to fuck other guys?"

"No. I was engaged, and Sue and Terri were getting married..." She paused, blowing her nose. "Sue said we were going to have to give up our freedom once we were married, so we should enjoy everything before the sweet bird of youth flew away. We just tried to relive our college 'adventures'."

"So, did Sue and Terri stop these 'adventures' after their weddings? And were you going to stop after ours?" I closed the door and stumbled back to my chair.

Leslie hung her head, her hair falling around her face, shielding it from my view. I could tell she was crying, although she was silent. I gave her a few moments, before I repeated my question: "Were you going to stop after our wedding?"

"Yes, yes. Of course." She raised her tear-stained face to show me her sincere face. Unfortunately, it was the same sincere face she'd used when lying to me since, well, probably since I met her.

"You've been cheating on me since our engagement, and more likely, since we met." She began shaking her head at my words. "Well, it's nice to know you might have stopped after our wedding, but hey, the good news is now you don't have to. Now you can be a slut in the open because the wedding ain't gonna happen." I got to my feet and opened the door again. "Get out. We're done. Go have your bastard kid in an alley for all I care."

Leslie began sobbing again but slowly rose and walked out the door. As she passed me, my words reverberated in my head. "Go have your bastard kid in an alley..." I flashed back to my mother, Barbara Gold. In the month before she died, she told me the story of my conception and birth.

She'd gone to a college party with some friends, while still in high school. Alcohol and drugs were free and feeling adult, she partook for the first time. After that, things were fuzzy until she woke up naked the next morning. Grabbing her clothing, Barbara had run home, where her parents thought she was returning from an overnight at her friend's house.

She didn't know she was pregnant for a while, and when she realized it, she stupidly tried to hide it. When she began to show, it was too late for an abortion and her father exploded. He called her every name in the book, but the one he favored was SLUT, all in capital letters. When Barbara tried to explain what had happened, and begged him to forgive and help her, he threw her out of his house. He wouldn't have a SLUT in his house. He had no daughter. "Go have your bastard in an alley, you whore."

She had nowhere to go. Barbara lived in shelters until she could find a job, and wasn't able to finish high school, That and being pregnant condemned her to entry level jobs, usually temp jobs. With the help of charities and shelters, she was able to give birth and get help with childcare until she was able to get a place and establish her own support system. A woman in her building who also had a newborn was willing to care for Steve along with her own child, while Barbara worked her various jobs. Between rent and childcare, she had to work two jobs just to be able to feed them both. Without the clothing donations she was able to scrounge from the various charities, she would have been wearing rags and Steve would have been wrapped in newspapers. But they got by, barely. Steve was to wear donated clothing well into his high school career.

Over the years, his mother worked 12 to 16 hours a day. Steven learned to take care of himself pretty well from first grade on. It was not easy.

His mother had wept, on her deathbed, about things she had done to give her son some stability in his life. She admitted to having submitted sexually to employers to retain better paying jobs and admitted to selling herself in desperation when emergencies occurred. Medical bills or school expenses that were unexpected and unavoidable would demand an immediate influx of cash.

She didn't regret any of it, she told her son. He was on the cusp of his graduation from college; she raised a fine young man who made her proud. No sacrifice was too much for that prize.

He would have been devastated by her death without her confession, but when she passed, he wept for the sacrifices she had made that he had never appreciated growing up. He'd been close to his mother; there really had been no choice, as it was always just the two of them. There had been no reconciliation with her parents or family. Steve had never even met them.

But as he aged and began to understand his illegitimacy, he resented his mother for all the things his classmates had that he did not. His classmates didn't have to work throughout their childhood. His classmates had TV's, stereos, computers, gaming systems, new clothes, and meat and desserts at most meals. He often had Corn Flakes for dinner, and not the Kellogg kind, but some no-name cardboard tasting brand. What kid wouldn't have resentment?

But one incident stuck in his head, overwhelming him with shame. His school had class jackets, distributed during their sophomore year. He wanted one desperately and begged his mother constantly. Everyone else would have one, and he could cover the donated clothes that embarrassed him with the same jacket his classmates wore. But his mother told him they couldn't afford it. He told her he would use the money he earned from his afterschool job. She explained that the money he contributed was needed for rent and food. She was sorry, but no, they just couldn't afford the luxury of that class jacket.

His heart broke when he remembered how miserable he had made his mother over that jacket. He was truculent and insolent, refusing to talk to her and avoiding her whenever possible. He did it even though he knew that it hurt her. He could hear her crying at night in her room.

But his tactics worked. She surprised him by ordering his jacket from the school. He was over the moon, and wore that jacket even as he outgrew it, through his senior year.

Now he wept, knowing that his mother had swallowed her pride and spread her legs to get the money for that damned jacket. That was the main reason he was unable to go back to college after her funeral -- he realized the sacrifices and the extremes his loving mother had gone to for her ungrateful child. Sure, when he had gotten older, he planned to make her life better, but knowing how miserable he had made her over a fucking jacket! He was ashamed and inconsolable.

If it hadn't been for Leslie, he would never have returned to school. Her badgering him into completing the semester and attending his final exams had allowed his mother's sacrifices to have meaning in his graduation.

As he watched Leslie stumble down the walk, he thought about that. He thought that she could end up like his mother, prostituting herself to survive. Nastily, he thought it wouldn't be as big a step for Leslie as it had been for his mom. Leslie was already giving it away for free, charging for it wasn't that big of a leap.

Then he thought about the child she was carrying. A bastard, like him. It would be raised by a single mother who also had been tossed out by her parents. Granted, Leslie had not only a high school diploma but a college degree as well. Even without her former employer's recommendation, she should be able to get a decent job.

He thought of his mother; she would be ashamed of him right now. He may not love Leslie anymore, but he felt like he was tossing his mother out.

"Leslie!" he called. When she stopped and looked back, he stood back and opened the door wide. Hesitantly, she slowly walked back. When she came into the house, he closed the door.

"Leslie, you can stay here until you can get your feet back under you." He told her.

She gasped in glee and moved to hug Steve. He put his hands against her shoulders and pushed her back. "No. I'm giving your child the help no one gave my mom or me. But that's it." I turned and led her to the guest room. "You know where everything is. Please try to respect my privacy and space." As she looked around the room, she had decorated only months before, I moved out, pulling the door behind me. Just before it closed, I added, cruelly, "Just don't bring any of your fuck buddies here." I could hear her cry of distress as I moved away.

It was awkward and uncomfortable at first, with the two of us attempting to avoid each other in the small house. A month went by, and Leslie began showing. That triggered me. I had dreamed of her pregnancy with OUR child in my home, and here she was taunting me with that image, with some unknown's git growing in her belly. I would get so angry I would begin shaking. I slammed out of the house. I spent several nights a week at the local bar. I'd stagger home later, unless some barfly dragged me to her house for the night. I spent mornings hungover and ashamed of myself, evenings angry at the parody Leslie presented of the life I had dreamed of, and evenings back at the bar.

Finally, Leslie confronted me as I grabbed my jacket to storm out again. "Steve! Stop it. Just stop. I'm leaving. I'll be gone tomorrow."

You would have thought I'd be happy to hear that, but instead, I looked at her dumbly as asked, "Why?"

"Because look at you. You can't even look at me without getting angry. Then you're out drinking almost every night." Tears dripped from her eyelashes. "You're becoming a drunk, because of me. I have to go."

I collapsed onto an armchair. I stared at her midriff, thinking now of the child there. I had offered it sanctuary, but my actions belied it. The anger seeped out of me.

"No, you stay. I am sorry I made you feel unwelcome. It just hurts. I remember the dreams we had, and here you are, looking like my dreams but not..." I couldn't finish.

She stared at me, then looked down at her stomach. She turned and ran to her room. I sat in the living room, looking at her closed door. She didn't come out and I didn't move. Eventually I realized that she wasn't going to eat, but I was hungry. After I made some pasta and pork chops, I went and knocked on her door.

"Les, I made dinner." There was no response. "Pork chops and pasta. Don't make me waste it." I waited for a few minutes, patiently. Still no response.

I raised my voice in mock anger. "HEY! I'm HUNGRY! And I can't eat until you join me." I heard a stirring in the room and the door was opened by a red-eyed, wet faced mess. I reached out and pulled the sodden hair away from her face and smoothed it behind her ear.

"Come on." I gently put my hand on her shoulder and steered her into the kitchen, where I had set out plates and silverware. I sat her at the table and dished up the food.

She stared at her plate while I began eating. I was taking my fourth bite of the chop when she finally picked up her fork and began eating the pasta. We ate dinner in silence, and I rose to clear the plates when we were done.

"Thank you." It was so quiet, I barely heard it.

"Well, tomorrow you get to make dinner." I rinsed the plates, put them into the dishwasher and left her sitting at the table. I went to the living room and turned on the TV. It was several minutes later that she came out and sat on the couch. We watched two programs in silence. When I went to my room, she went to hers.

From then on, we ate dinner together. We didn't always watch TV or spend the evening together, but did develop nights when we both enjoyed the programs that were broadcast. We gradually developed routines we could live with.

Leslie began working temp jobs. I was unsure whether being pregnant stymied her job search, or whether she was unwilling to commit herself before the baby arrived. She offered to contribute to our expenses, but I told her to save her money. She would need it for medical expenses, baby needs, and her own place, eventually.

She didn't reply. She kind of shrugged and retreated to her room, where she remained all evening.

I felt trapped into being her Lamaze partner. Her friends had abandoned her, especially after I informed all their partners what went on during their "girls' trips". As far as I know, only two of the six were still partnered up, but divorce or breakup there was still a possibility. So, with no family or friends, I felt my mother on my shoulder, telling me to step up. I did.

I also attended the birth, when Natalie was born. 7 1/2 pounds, blue eye and blonde, a little pixie that threatened to capture my heart, although my mind rebelled against it. Leslie had a tough time of the birth, straining and groaning in pain.

The doctor commented to me later that it was different from most births. "I'm used to the mother cursing out the father. This is the first time that the mother's mantra was 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!' What was that about?" he asked.

"We were engaged to be married before she got pregnant." I replied.

He looked at me blankly for a moment, then I saw the light go on in his eyes. "Oh. Ooohh! Well, now I'm sorry," he said, before heading off. Remembering my hopes and dreams, I thought, "Not as sorry as I am."

The birth seemed to take a lot out of Leslie. When I brought mother and daughter home, she collapsed on the bed and was out. When Natalie stirred and cried, I changed her first diaper in my house. When she continued crying, I had to wake Leslie up for the baby's feeding. Later, I bathed the baby and put her down to sleep.

Over the following months, I think I answered the nighttime calls as often as the mother, if not more often. I was enchanted by the little being that now inhabited the house. Every day, she seemed to grasp more of the world, always looking at the world around her and learning new things.

We settled into routines, becoming, before I realized it, a family. I knew someday Leslie would be ready to leave, and I found myself dreading the day. But time passed, and the little one began to crawl, then toddle, then walk. I read to Natalie, took her for walks and trips to the park, pushing her on the swings and the roundabouts. I rushed home from work to play on the floor or on the lawn with the little darling. After Prague, I didn't think I would ever love again. Natalie proved to me that I could.

I was happy. I had a family. Leslie and I had settled into a comfortable roommate friendship, which satisfied me. And Natalie; I felt like she was my daughter.

Leslie finally went back to work full-time, in order to get medical coverage for Natalie. She worked 8 to 4 every day, with Natalie in a corporate daycare at her office. Happily, she was always back home when I got off at 5 PM.

There were rough patches. Every few months, after Natalie's birth, Leslie would make overtures to me, letting me know I was welcome in her bed. I always politely refused, which she seemed to expect, but regret. When Natalie was a year and a half, Natalie started dating but always seemed to be home by 9 PM. Those dates became rarer as time passed.

I still dated, but sporadically, and nothing ever seemed to develop any further than a couple of nights out. I gave Stephanie a call, the woman who told me to call her when I got my head on straight, and I thought we had a pleasant evening, with dinner and a boat cruise around the bay. I thought it was romantic, and I was sure I was charming and engaging. Again, I thought this was a woman I could love. However, at the end of the night, she let me know I wouldn't be invited in. She congratulated me on getting my head back on straight but told me to call her when I wasn't already in love with someone.

"What are you talking about?" I asked incredulously. "There's no one else." I was thinking, Leslie? Does she thinks I'm in love with Leslie? "Stephanie, please. There's no one else. I really thought we had something special."

She laughed and put her hand on my cheek, then leaned forward and gently kissed my lips. "I thought so, too. But do you realize that you haven't asked me anything about myself all night? No, but you've talked non-stop about Natalie. I know she's only three, but a woman likes to think she's at least a little important to a man." She sighed like she had before and said, "Call me if you ever find room in your heart for someone besides your Natalie."

When Natalie entered kindergarten, she went to after school daycare in the afternoon, so sometimes I'd pick her up, but usually Natalie went since she got off work earlier. But I insisted on going sometimes, because I wanted to ensure that the daycare was better than some of the situations I'd been left in. It was heads and shoulders above any daycare to which I'd ever been subjected. It was great.

I was happy. I had the family I had always wanted, sort of. Leslie and I were still just roommates, but Natalie filled my heart. When she crawled into my lap at night and demanded that I read to her, I always had to wipe my eyes because the words on the page would be blurry. When she kissed my cheek, I choked up every time.

She was my world.

That world began going to hell one night when I awoke to find a naked Leslie slipping into my bed. I was instantly awake and had scooted over to the far side of the bed. "What are you doing?" I demanded.

"I need you." Leslie whispered. "It breaks my heart to see you every day and know what I have lost. I screwed up. I had the perfect life, and I allowed a selfish need for, what, youth? adventure? to derail it." She sobbed. "I can't love anyone else while you're here with me. My body yearns for you, my heart breaks every time you go by. I love you. Please forgive me. Love me." She reached out for me.

I suddenly found myself standing next to my bed. From the look of horror on Leslie's face, I must have shown disgust and repulsion when she reached for me. "NO!" I snarled. "I can't love you. I can't trust you that way. You killed the love I had for you."

I paused and tried to be conciliatory. "I forgave you long ago, Leslie. I care for you, as a friend." I shook my head. "No, more than a friend, you're family. You and Natalie. You're like a sister to me."

Leslie contemplated the pattern on my sheets for a moment, then turned without a word, and left the room, closing my door behind her. I laid in bed awake for an hour, thinking about the exchange we'd had. I hoped that I handled it well.

When I came home the next day, the house was strangely empty. I noticed that some knickknacks that Leslie had placed around the room were missing. When I entered the kitchen, I saw a note held by a magnet on the refrigerator door.

"Dearest Steve,

I love you. I will always love you, and always will regret what I've done. For over five years I hoped to find my way back into your heart, but you've made it clear that I"ve burned that bridge to the ground.

I can't stay anymore. I have saved enough money to start my life over somewhere else. It hurts too much and neither of us will be able to move on if I remain here. You're too good a person to be alone your whole life. You deserve a family including a loving and faithful mate. I will always regret that it wasn't to be me.

By the time you read this, I should be out of the state and on my way to a new life. I will never forget you or your kindness.

Love forever,

Leslie."

I sat down, drawing in deep breaths in order to calm myself.

I had been happy. I had had a family. I felt like my heart had been ripped out, once again by Leslie. Worse than before. Worse than seeing her with that damned Newberry Five.

How could she take Natalie, my darling Natalie, away from me. I cried, screamed, and felt so alone. How could I go on? I thought that I should have just fucked Leslie. It would have been as meaningless to me as apparently sex was to her, but if it had allowed me to keep my family...

I hardly heard the phone, but once I realized it was ringing, I prayed it was Leslie. I rushed to the phone and picked it up. "Les, is that you?" I exclaimed.

There was a shocked pause for a minute, then a timid voice said, "No, this is Janice from the Pine Street Daycare. Is this Steven or Leslie?"

"This is Steve," I answered, wondering why they were calling.

"Do you know if Leslie's on her way? It's already 5:30 and Natalie is still waiting to be picked up."

When I rushed down and gathered Natalie, she asked where momma was. I told her "I don't know, Ladybug. I am as confused as you are." When we got home, I was surprised to find that all Natalie's things were still in her room. Was it possible?

Had Leslie gone and left Natalie behind? She hadn't left any documents giving me any authority for the child. I panicked, thinking that Child Protective Services might take her away from me. Or Leslie's damned parents might suddenly realize that they had a grandchild. Would Leslie have notified them? I contemplated running away with Natalie but realized I would probably be a kidnapper then.

I calmed myself, and the next morning, after dropping Natalie at school, I called work to let them know I wouldn't be in. Instead, I arranged to see a lawyer.

The news wasn't good. I was a single man, without blood or any legal connection to the child. Even though I had supported and cared for the girl since birth, I had no rights. Her mother abandoning Natalie, basically giving her to me without any documentation, literally begged CPS to step in, "for the good of the child."

"What can I do?" I pleaded with the attorney. "Is there anyway I can establish or apply for guardianship of Natalie? I've supported her and cared for her since birth. I am the only father she knows."

The lawyer paused. "Well, we can apply for guardianship. It'll be tough since you're a single man, but since you already have an established relationship with the child, maybe... We might have a chance."

He gave me a list of things to bring him, included my financials, testimonials to my character and Natalie's birth certificate, which I didn't have. The lawyer asked for the specifics of Natalie's birth and instructed his assistant to get a copy of the birth certificate. He said that it would take a few days, and just to go on as usual. He said since I had always been in the girl's life, it was unlikely that anyone would question me or even notice Leslie's absence.

A week later, the attorney called me, seemingly puzzled. "Steve, there's no case here. I don't think you'll have any problems."

"What? Why?" What had changed? I still needed to get legal custody.

"Well, I'm looking at the birth certificate for Natalie Gold..."

"Not Gold. That's my name. She's Natalie Lewis." I corrected.

"Yeah, Mother Natalie Lewis. Father, " the lawyer paused, "Steve Gold."

WTF? "What? No, I'm not the father. She didn't know who the father was." I blurted. "It wasn't me."

"It doesn't matter. You're who she put down. It's got your signature. Officially, legally, you're Natalie's father. You have custody."

I never signed a birth certificate. But I remember after the long, exhausting labor, the nurse had me sign as a witness to the birth. At least, I thought I was signing as a witness. I had been so anxious to get back to Natalie.

The relief was so great I passed out. I woke with my daughter (MY DAUGHTER) patting my face to wake me up.

EPILOGUE:

I tried to find Leslie, for Natalie's sake, but she disappeared forever. I hoped she had a good life.

A month after I learned that I legally had a daughter, I convinced Stephanie to have lunch with me. It took some convincing, but she finally agreed. She almost left when I showed up with Natalie.

Other than the introductions and ordering food, I hardly got a word in edgewise. Natalie easily charmed Stephanie, and sealed my fate when she told her, "My daddy (she'd begun calling me Daddy!) really likes you. He talks about you all the time."

Stephanie looked at me, then whispered to Natalie, "I think your daddy's blushing." My daughter looked and the two began giggling. That set a pattern they were to follow forever after. The two of them loved ganging up on me.

When our daughter Lorelei joined us two years later, they became a gang of three that dominates me completely.

I hope they will, forever.