The Chosen

He followed her, frantic. “Vera, I never cheated on you! I swear it!”

She had to look at him in the utmost incredulity. His audacity astounded her. “Oh, and you were just playing hopscotch with those two girls I caught you with… Well, one of them was a girl. I don’t know what the other one was.”

Paul’s face appeared corrugated as he groped for words. “Please, Vera, listen to me, I’m begging you. I don’t remember much about what happened that night but—”

“Um-hum, and let me guess. You smoke marijuana too, but you never inhale.”

“I know what I did was wrong, but, really, Vera, it wasn’t my fault.’’

“Oh, so whose fault was it then? The girls? They put a gun to your head and forced you to have sex with them? They made you snort cocaine? Is that it?’’

“I don’t even think it was cocaine, I don’t know what it was. I was sick for days afterwards,” Paul yammered. “But at least hear me out, Vera. Please—”

Vera crossed her arms, smirking. “All right, Paul. I’ll give you one minute.”

Paul sat down on the couch, pushed his hair off his brow. “That night, you remember—I went to Kaggies to do my piece on the downtown singles scene. Those two girls showed up, and I swear I never saw them before, and, yes, I started talking to them. But I never had any intention of…you know—”

“Of fucking them,” Vera assisted. “While I was at work.”

“It’s not like that at all,” he pleaded. “All I did was have a drink with them. I wanted to talk with them, I wanted to hear their perceptions about singles bars and stuff. Next thing I know we’re back here, and all kinds of weird stuff is happening. I didn’t know what I was doing, I wasn’t myself at all. I think—I think they must’ve put something in my drink.’’

Vera’s eyes turned in her head. “Paul, that is the lamest bunch of crap I’ve ever heard anyone say. You’ve got to be out of your gourd if you expect me to believe that cock and bull.”

“Vera, I swear, it’s true, they put some drug in my beer that made me nuts. I didn’t even know who I was. I was unconscious for two days. I missed my deadline. I lost my job…”

“Good,” Vera told him. “You deserve to lose your job for talking such ridiculous shit.”

Paul’s face fell into his hands. Suddenly he was sobbing. “Aw, God, Vera, please believe me. And please, please forgive me…”

“Forgive you? What, and then we’ll just pick up where we left off? Just forget it ever happened, and everything’ll be peachy? Is that what you want?”

Even he must realize how foolish he sounded. His face was wet now when he looked up at her. “We had so many plans, didn’t we? We had a life together. You want to throw that all away?”

For a fraction of a second, Vera paused. It was true. They did have plans, wonderful plans. They did have a life together; what they had together, in fact, was what she wanted more than anything in the world. They’d had it all—

And he destroyed it all, she thought.

“I’m leaving now, Paul—”

“No, please!”

“—and I hope I never see you again.”