Allison

We were happily married for seven years before Allison gave me the big news that she was eight weeks pregnant. It should have been a celebrated day. We were in our late twenties, and I had just become the team leader of the IT Applications Support group at my company, Royal Labels. Other than playing basketball twice a week at the YMCA, I was home reading a book or watching TV. Allison worked at Lebanon Premier Hospital as an x-ray technician. Except for a rare weekend shift or covering after-hours emergencies for our jobs, we were usually home from work and eating dinner by 6 pm. On Sunday mornings, we attended First Calvary Baptist worship services and occasionally went to one of our parents’ homes to have an afternoon dinner. So yes, things were good, but it was a feeling of relief, more than joy, when she told me the news.

Allison and I started dating when we were seniors at Lebanon Hills High School. In 1991 Lebanon Hills had a population of about five thousand, and our class had one hundred and fifty-three students. Most of us had grown up together and had divided into cliques by the time we reached puberty in the mid-80s. I met Allison in kindergarten, but it wasn’t until we had English class together in 8^th grade that I began what became a crush that bordered on stalking since her feelings toward me weren’t reciprocated.

Despite hanging around too much, Allison never treated me poorly or told me to get lost. Fortunately, I could sense when my presence became unbearable, and I would pull myself away long enough for her not to hate me and allow us to remain friends. It was a pattern that continued until our senior year. That’s when her boyfriend, Steve Nixon, dumped her for refusing to have sex with him after the fall homecoming dance. I was there to console her and took advantage of her emotional fragility.

By Christmas, we were a couple. Perhaps to spite Steve, Allison publicly displayed her affection toward me in the school hallways, basketball games (Go Trojans!), and other places where our classmates observed us. Allison was less romantic in private, and though we had the usual teenager make-out sessions, sex was off the table. Though I loved her, it still frustrated me, but I was determined to respect her wishes.

With both of us living with our parents, privacy was an issue, at least for me. Allison didn’t seem to mind that we were rarely alone. She was extremely nervous when our parents were on vacation, and we could spend the night together. She insisted we stay at our homes to avoid nosy neighbors gossiping to our parents. In the fall, I moved to Columbus to attend Ohio State for a computer science degree. Allison continued to live at home and enrolled at Sinclair Community to earn an associate degree in Radiologic Technology.

I loved Allison, but I was an eighteen-year-old virgin teenager. After a few months on campus, I began seeing girls, and soon, I was no longer the only virgin among my roommates. Of course, I hid this from Allison, and to this day, I’m not proud of my behavior, though I believe it was inevitable that I would end up seeing other women. I blamed it on hormones, peer pressure, loose morals, my parents, etc. The excuse varied from day to day or even hour to hour. However, I expected Allison to remain faithful because, like most men, I’m a hypocrite.

After Allison graduated, she got a job at Dayton General Hospital and began saving money for our future wedding we had discussed a few times. Even though it reduced the amount of money she could save, she got her first apartment when she turned twenty-one in the spring of ’94. She told me I could visit her but not expect to have sex or stay the night. I respected her wishes, but knowing she was alone and I could be with her became more difficult. In July, before the start of my senior year, I was tired of her rejections, and the guilt of hiding my infidelity was unbearable. I decided not to see her anymore.

“Allison, I’ll always be your friend, but I think our time is through.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m tired of lying. You don’t want to sleep with me. I’ve always respected your wishes, but I want more, and to be honest, other girls have given me more.”

“I always figured you were cheating on me.”

“I know it doesn’t make a difference, but I only love you.”

“Despite that, you cheated on me. You’re an asshole.”

I could only agree. “Yes. I’m sorry. I love you.”

“You don’t know why I won’t sleep with you.”

“You’ve always told me because your mother drilled into you the importance of waiting until you were married and that a man worth having would wait.”

“Are you kidding me? You believe that line of crap?”

“Well, that’s what you’ve been telling me for over four years.”

“Remember Steve Nixon?”

“How could I forget? You’ve told me more than once he was your first love.”

“He was more than that.”

“What does that mean?”

“After the homecoming dance, he raped me in the backseat of his car.”

“What are you talking about? You told me he left you because you refused to have sex with him.”

“I refused, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“My god, Allison, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was ashamed. I blamed myself. Even my parents blamed me. And then it got worse.”

“Worse? How could it get worse?”

“I got pregnant and had an abortion over Thanksgiving break of our senior year.”

By this time, we were both in tears. I held her gently in my arms and told her I would always love her. She was so fragile and vulnerable. All I wanted to do was protect her. I swore we’d marry as soon as I graduated, and I promised to be faithful to her if she still wanted me. She pushed me away and said, ”I can’t trust you unless you’re willing to marry me before you go back to school.”

“Do you want that?”

“Yes. Marry me.”

I would have done anything for her at that moment, so we married seven days later at the Montgomery County Courthouse. Sure, the first couple of years were rough. Money was tight, and when I transferred to Wright State University, I lost a few credit hours, but being able to be with the woman I love made it all worth it. For the first time in our relationship, I felt she needed me as much as I needed her. Though I thought about it often, we never spoke about Steve Nixon and the devastating impact that homecoming night had on Allison’s life.

We were pro-choice and knew that she had made the right decision. That didn’t mean it hadn’t left mental scars. Although she refused to talk about it, I suspected she harbored some doubts about her abortion and hoped a baby would wash away any guilt that remained. We never practiced birth control, and after seven years of her trying to become pregnant, I believed the abortion may have caused physical issues. But Allision was unwilling to discuss the possibility and told me her doctor had ruled it out. When she told me she was pregnant, I hugged her and said, “You never talk about it, but now that you’re bringing a new life into the world. I hope this erases any pain you may have felt over your decision ten years ago.”

Suddenly her smile disappeared, and she said, “There’s something I should have told you long ago.”

“This sounds serious.”

“I can’t live with the lie anymore. Please don’t hate me.”

“Hate you for what?”

“I lied about getting pregnant and having an abortion.”

“Why in the hell did you say it?”

“You were breaking up with me, and I realized how much I love you. I was desperate. I would have said anything to keep you. I’m so sorry.”

“And what about date rape?”

“It never happened.”

I stared at her in silence. I was angry and hurt. A part of me wanted to leave and never look back. But I knew I couldn’t do that. I had a son or daughter on the way. I wouldn’t abandon them.

Finally, I said, “So the love of my life tricked me into marrying her. I guess it worked out.”

And while I kissed her and told her I loved her, I doubted I would ever trust her again.