"The truth, Carolyn, is that it will always hurt me not to have children, just as it will always hurt you. And yes, sure, I could go and find someone else to have kids with, but she wouldn't be you Carolyn. She wouldn't be the one woman I really wanted to be with. And every time I held her hand, or kissed her, or made love to her, I would be thinking about you, and wishing that she was you. I would be living a lie."
He paused, collecting his thoughts, then he began to speak again, each word carefully spaced and chosen, like beads on a wire.
"Carolyn, everything in this world that is worth having comes with a price, and the more precious it is then the higher that price becomes. If you really want something, you have to decide whether or not you are willing to pay the cost. Well, you are the most precious thing in the world to me, and if the price I have to pay to be with you is childlessness, then I will pay it. I'm not going to pretend any more that it will be easy, because it won't be, but if you want me as much as I want you then we will have to face it. I love you Carolyn, completely, utterly, more than anything, more than life itself. Please, don't turn me away because you think it's for my own good, or because I lied to you to try and protect your feelings. Just accept me. We will never find what we have together with anyone else, of that I am convinced. And I swear to you, I will never lie to you again about anything, not ever."
Carolyn stood silently for a moment, then she stepped close into him, put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Gently he pulled her to him, stroking her back and her hair. There was nothing more for either to say.
Eventually they did sit down together, in silence, and they drank the wine John had brought. They held each other a great deal, and stroked each other, but they said little more. Both felt that a chasm had been crossed, and in that there was a kind of relief, but before them was a strange and unknown land and they were both a little scared of what they might find there.
At last they went to bed together, and lay in each other's arms. Neither had wanted to make love, neither thought that it would happen, but as they lay together and tenderly stroked and kissed each other, the pull of the flesh overcame them, and gently they aroused each other and then became one. After John entered her, he was slow and gentle, until he came inside her with a low moan. Carolyn didn't climax, but it didn't matter. It had not been about sex. He had made love to her to show her that he still wanted her, and she had let him, to show him that she wanted him too. There was little passion in it, but there was warmth, and comfort, and love. Afterwards they drifted off to sleep, locked in each other's arms, the frontier of tomorrow waiting for them.
The next morning, Carolyn drove home with a deep sorrow in her heart, not for herself, or for John, but for the husband who she was about to leave for another man. To her surprise and relief, he took it well. He told her that he had been aware that she was unhappy for a long time, and had half expected her to go at some time. They agreed to make the divorce as painless as possible, and then she packed a bag and drove back to John at the hotel.
In the afternoon they went to bed together, and this time the union was more passionate, but there was a feeling of sadness and desperation in their coupling too, for they both knew that no matter how much they enjoyed this, it could never bear fruit.
Over the next few weeks, Carolyn gave up her job and moved to John's hometown, to live with him. She soon found work there, for she was determined that John would not keep her. They settled down easily into a routine, like the married couple they intended to be once their divorces were finalised, but always over them hung the shadow of a future without children. They asked about IVF treatment, but a sympathetic doctor told them sadly that Carolyn's womb had been damaged by the infection which had made her sterile years before, and that the chances of successful implantation were negligible. They made tentative enquiries about adoption, to be told by a stony faced social worker that it was very unlikely that a mixed race couple with a history of divorce would ever be seriously considered. Carolyn felt like murdering the stupid woman.
Surrogacy they discussed, but both rejected the idea. They were frightened that the surrogate mother may decide to keep the baby, and the heartbreak for them would be intolerable.
Months drifted by. Their divorces were finalised, and on a warm spring morning, with just a few friends and family around them, they married in a small registry office. Carolyn's brother, Paul, was there with his wife. Paul was a tall handsome black guy who worked as a teacher. His wife, Jenny, was a petite blonde white girl, very pretty, who worked in a bookshop, and both John and Carolyn liked her a great deal. The couple had a young son, Luke, only three years old, who was a totally delightful and his aunt Carolyn adored him, although fussing him always sent pangs of regret through her as it reminded her that she would never have a child of her own.
One hot summer evening, a year after they were married, John and Carolyn had Luke as a guest for the night. It was Paul and Jenny's wedding anniversary, and they planned a romantic meal in a restaurant followed by a theatre trip to see a popular musical, not getting home until late. Carolyn had insisted that she and John take Luke for the night rather than having him looked after by a baby sitter, and Jenny and Paul had gladly agreed.
Around 11 in the evening, with Luke already settled and asleep in the spare room, John and Carolyn were tidying up before bed when the doorbell rang. As John made his way down the passage he could already see a blue light flashing through the frosted glass of the door. Outside stood a grim faced police officer. He told John and Carolyn that there had been a traffic accident, a drunk driver had run a red light and smashed into another car, killing both occupants, and himself. The driver of the other car was black and his female companion was white. From his driving license and a list of addresses and phone numbers found in his wallet the police believed that it was Paul, Carolyn's brother. Carolyn collapsed in hysterics, sobbing wildly, refusing to believe that it could be true. John left her with a female police officer while he was driven to the local mortuary, where he confirmed that the bodies were indeed those of Paul and Jenny.
After the funerals, which took place together, and saw the couple laid side by side in a small shady cemetery, Carolyn and John took Luke into their home. They had known from the first night that they could do nothing other than that. They knew that he would need a lot of love and care to help him get over the death of his parents, but they were both willing to give that in plenty. In a sad, ironic way, they now had the child that they had always wanted, but if either could have turned the clock back they gladly would have, and been childless all their days, rather than have it come to this.
In the course of time, they applied to officially adopt Luke. There was no opposition from anyone, they were his closest family. He became their son, but they would never let him forget who his true parents had been. It is said that time is a great healer. This is not true, time does not heal, it simply buries the pain deeper and deeper until it can hardly be felt unless one really looks for it, but it is always there, it will never go away.
Carolyn and John had their love of each other, and of Luke, to help them. It would be a wonderful thing to say that they all lived happily ever after, but who is ever truly happy? We all play the cards that we are dealt. We can do nothing else. They had their lives, and in the end they had their child to complete things. That their parenthood was born out of tragedy rather than joy is a sad thing, but no two hearts ever beat together more closely, and the strength that they gave each other helped them through the dark. Over the years they found a kind of peace, a type of contentment, and who of us can ask for more?
