Wondering

The sheets of his bed were tangled about his ankles. His pillows had been fluffed and punched to the point that they were useless for support. An empty glass lay on the bedside table its former contents forming a small lake on the floor.

He stared at the ceiling. His eyes were red and swollen from a lack of sleep or from crying it was difficult to tell the difference. His hair was a tangle of gray and blond and his face was covered with several days of unshaven stubble.

Sleep had not visited his room for several days and the air was musty with the scent of unwashed flesh. In the background a television hissed with the poorly written soap that was trying much to hard to be hip. He was oblivious though to the television and to his surroundings. At this point in time he was captured in a prison of depression with no hope for parole.

Simply put time would run out on his life before the calendar changed from September to October. The cause was unimportant. There was no hope and there was no treatment. All the doctors could offer were various drugs that before to long would leave him in a medicated stupor unaware of the passing of time until he slipped off into that long dark night.

Refusing the medicals staffs offer of medication he walked away from his life and drove off into the desert until he had found himself here in this small backwater town renting a room who's only previous occupants were a family of cockroaches.

He was 33 years old; he had no family, no close friends and now no life. In his mind he had always been planning for tomorrow. Tomorrow I will get married. Tomorrow I will have a career. Tomorrow I will see the world. His dreams had been filled with a thousand tomorrows but now his tomorrows added up to less than a month.

Regrets he had quite a few but the one that haunted him most was that when he took his last breath there would be nothing left behind to show that he had even lived. Sure in some dusty file cabinet in some small town there was a birth certificate and who ever passed for a coroner in this town would file a death certificate but that was it. Two pieces of faded parchment added up to the sum of one mans life.

He had done nothing to leave his mark. No mediocre artwork in some second hand store. No half written novel in a safety deposit box. No charity work. Nothing to show for this gift of life he had been given.

What tore at him the most was never having been a father. Never having witnessed the birth of his very own son or daughter. Never held the hand of a beautiful woman while they gazed in amazement at the little miracle they had created together.

Who was he kidding, ten years ago when the opportunity for fatherhood had presented itself his indecisiveness had allowed the chance to slip through his fingers. What right did he have complain about missed opportunities, he at least have been given the opportunity to live.

Her name was Victoria and for him at least it had been love at first sight. She was beautiful, funny, warm, passionate and full of life. They had worked in the same office building but in different departments.

Before long he was finding excuses to walk by her desk and just to say hello or to exchange a smile in passing. He was somewhat intimidated by her and could not gather the courage to directly ask her out. One Monday however they were discussing that night's football game and without planning to he ended making a bet on the games outcome. If his team won he would buy her dinner, if her team won she would buy dinner.

His team won.

The following night found them walking hand in hand through the sand on one of Southern California's many beaches. Their conversations flowed easily and the silent moments were warm and comfortable. To his surprise as the sunset she reached up to him and gently kissed his lips.

When she saw his look of astonishment she explained that she did not want to wait as long for their first kiss as she had for him to ask her out.

So began a long love affair with a woman that in all honesty had been his soul mate that is if there was such a thing.

They spent most of their free time together. Drives along the coast. Trips to Vegas. Long nights at one of their homes watching old Bogie and Bacall films. Everything was perfect.

He knew that she was waiting for him to propose but she knew that he was gun shy having been briefly married several years before. So she bided her time and waited for him to be comfortable with the idea. And she waited. And waited. And waited.

He was afraid of marriage and scared to death of the long-term commitment. He went so far as to buy an engagement ring but he never gave it to her. That is until it was to late.

One night she showed up at his door with pizza, beer and a somewhat timid look on her face. She barely spoke over dinner and sat quietly on the couch not really responding to him or the television.

Finally he got the hint and her turned off the television, he took her hand in his and asked her what was the matter. He almost hit the floor when she blurted out that she was pregnant.

A thousand and one thoughts and emotions went through his head all demanding individual attention.
I'm going to be a father.

Am I ready to be a father?

I'm going to ask Victoria to marry me.

Am I ready to get married?

He must have sat in stunned silence for to long because she finally asked him if he had anything to say. Instead of boldly asking her to marry him, he stuttered and floundered for the right words to say. When he finally asked it came out halfhearted and uncertain. Her eyes filled with tears and she left without saying goodbye.

He tried to make things right, but to be honest he did not try hard enough. He was scared of marriage, scared of parenthood and most of all afraid of all the responsibility. While the right words kept tumbling out of his mouth they both knew his heart wasn't in it.

When she brought up abortion he did not stand up and fight he muttered something about it being her decision and when she made it he drove her to the clinic.

The last time they ever spoke was on the way home from the clinic. The tears flowed and through her sobs she wanted to know what his problem was, why didn't you fight for us, for our baby. He had no words of comfort. He said nothing.

As she climbed out of the car she looked back at him with pain filled eyes and whispered: "Truth, all it would have taken is you speaking the truth with passion and meaning. I know you love me and you would have loved our child but you did not have the strength to say it and mean it. Now our baby is gone and so is our love."

The price he had paid for a lack of courage and commitment. Instead of sharing the last moments of a wonderful life with those he loved. He was instead lying on a sweat stained mattress in a seedy motel wondering what might have been.