being.”
“But you’re not religious?”
“Religions were invented by man to give hope for a sometimes hopeless existence. They were formed to give a moral framework to human societies. Most modern religions have pushed those tenets to the back of their priority lists. Look at most of the wars throughout history. See if religions were involved. I choose faith over religion.”
“Did Harry’s problems alter your beliefs?”
She looked over, scowling. “Do you think microcephaly was punishment from God for my mother’s drinking?”
The rapidity of her response, and its forcefulness, surprised him. He watched her eyes, but they didn’t say a word. “No. If there is a supreme being, he or she probably doesn’t intervene in our daily lives. It’d be too big of a job. I think we’re judged on a lifelong balance of actions. I don’t think a deathbed repentance can erase a lifetime of sinning or a single behavioral trait can damn us.”
Her look intensified. “But, from a medical standpoint, alcohol can cause problems during embryonic development.”
“I wouldn’t dwell on that. There are too many things that can go wrong: genetics, developmental mistakes.”
“And it could be hereditary.”
“There’s always a chance. Is that why you don’t want to have kids?”
“Please, go. I have to get this wine to the locker.”
Jason slid out of the seat and leaned back into the car. His head throbbed with his change in posture. “There’s always a chance. For everyone. But the odds are incredibly small.” Her watering eyes shook him.
Her words flew at him. “The one thing in this life a man can’t handle is the thought that he produced a defective offspring. I don’t want to watch another man slam the front door for good. I don’t want to die lonely like my mother. Now, let me go.”
Jason turned and walked to his car like he was balancing a stack of books on his head. Despite the headache, he decided to take the longer, scenic route home—his thinking route.
April’s words kept him driving. Psychiatrists were like everyone else. They had their own personal baggage to carry through life. And April’s interest in wine seemed intertwined with that baggage. Did she enjoy a few glasses of wine each evening because it validated the sidestep of her biological urges?
The afternoon was eye-opening for him; it gave hima window that looked deep inside her. And it drew him to her. But it still wasn’t like the feeling he had with his ex-fiancée, Eugenia. That whole mess had changed him and his views on women. But, recently, something else had changed in him as well. And that’s where he felt a common ground with April. Despite their different interests, they both seemed to take the same approach to life. Their age? Was that it?
He passed his turnoff and headed for Belletini’s. It had to be age. Once the twenties passed from windshield to rearview mirror, romantic adventures seemed to take on a different tone. One with more immediacy. And he wrestled with it. He still believed in a certain kind of love despite the innate tendency to compromise. He knew both he and April no longer toed up to the fountain of youth and flipped in pennies. They chucked quarters from a distance. But the goal was still the same. At least it was for him.
And where did Agnes fit into all this? Why did she pop into his mind every time he thought about his relationship with April, every time he was with her? There was no way anything could happen between him and Agnes. It was impossible. Then why did the thought of her keep forcing its way in? Why was she able to make him forget about Eugenia, when April couldn’t? Maybe this was his subconscious way of holding back from anything serious with April. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Agnes. Maybe this was just another one of Eugenia’s long tentacles.
He parked the car and stood leaning on the open door. The fluorescent lights of Belletini’s were already on,
“But you’re not religious?”
“Religions were invented by man to give hope for a sometimes hopeless existence. They were formed to give a moral framework to human societies. Most modern religions have pushed those tenets to the back of their priority lists. Look at most of the wars throughout history. See if religions were involved. I choose faith over religion.”
“Did Harry’s problems alter your beliefs?”
She looked over, scowling. “Do you think microcephaly was punishment from God for my mother’s drinking?”
The rapidity of her response, and its forcefulness, surprised him. He watched her eyes, but they didn’t say a word. “No. If there is a supreme being, he or she probably doesn’t intervene in our daily lives. It’d be too big of a job. I think we’re judged on a lifelong balance of actions. I don’t think a deathbed repentance can erase a lifetime of sinning or a single behavioral trait can damn us.”
Her look intensified. “But, from a medical standpoint, alcohol can cause problems during embryonic development.”
“I wouldn’t dwell on that. There are too many things that can go wrong: genetics, developmental mistakes.”
“And it could be hereditary.”
“There’s always a chance. Is that why you don’t want to have kids?”
“Please, go. I have to get this wine to the locker.”
Jason slid out of the seat and leaned back into the car. His head throbbed with his change in posture. “There’s always a chance. For everyone. But the odds are incredibly small.” Her watering eyes shook him.
Her words flew at him. “The one thing in this life a man can’t handle is the thought that he produced a defective offspring. I don’t want to watch another man slam the front door for good. I don’t want to die lonely like my mother. Now, let me go.”
Jason turned and walked to his car like he was balancing a stack of books on his head. Despite the headache, he decided to take the longer, scenic route home—his thinking route.
April’s words kept him driving. Psychiatrists were like everyone else. They had their own personal baggage to carry through life. And April’s interest in wine seemed intertwined with that baggage. Did she enjoy a few glasses of wine each evening because it validated the sidestep of her biological urges?
The afternoon was eye-opening for him; it gave hima window that looked deep inside her. And it drew him to her. But it still wasn’t like the feeling he had with his ex-fiancée, Eugenia. That whole mess had changed him and his views on women. But, recently, something else had changed in him as well. And that’s where he felt a common ground with April. Despite their different interests, they both seemed to take the same approach to life. Their age? Was that it?
He passed his turnoff and headed for Belletini’s. It had to be age. Once the twenties passed from windshield to rearview mirror, romantic adventures seemed to take on a different tone. One with more immediacy. And he wrestled with it. He still believed in a certain kind of love despite the innate tendency to compromise. He knew both he and April no longer toed up to the fountain of youth and flipped in pennies. They chucked quarters from a distance. But the goal was still the same. At least it was for him.
And where did Agnes fit into all this? Why did she pop into his mind every time he thought about his relationship with April, every time he was with her? There was no way anything could happen between him and Agnes. It was impossible. Then why did the thought of her keep forcing its way in? Why was she able to make him forget about Eugenia, when April couldn’t? Maybe this was his subconscious way of holding back from anything serious with April. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Agnes. Maybe this was just another one of Eugenia’s long tentacles.
He parked the car and stood leaning on the open door. The fluorescent lights of Belletini’s were already on,
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