I’m sorry, I don’t.”She smiled. “You didn’t ask then, or now, why I was so upset. Why I was vulnerable that night.” I was about to speak. She held up her hand. “Again, I’m not accusing. Just telling the story. My husband had just left me a few days before hand. I’m a devout Catholic, Mr. Stephens. A hard core, devout Catholic. My entire family is. We don’t believe in divorce. We believe marriage is forever. So you can imagine how devastated I was at the time. My husband had left me. He packed up and moved out one day while I was at work. He didn’t leave a forwarding address, a phone number, no way for me to find him or contact him. He left a small note, taped the fridge. The note read ‘I can’t be married to someone who can’t give me children.’“Like me, my now ex-husband, is a very devout Catholic. The Catholic church believes married couples should go out and procreate. Josh, my ex, and I tried for three years to get me pregnant. We went to doctors, spent thousands on fertility. I’d had a lot of fun that night. We had agreed to meet at noon when he dropped me off the night before. “I want you in a white tank top and short skirt,” Bill had told me. “Nothing else!” I knew he meant it. He always did. I always wear what Bill tells me to. Especially when he wants me to dress like a slut. We went back to his apartment. Steve and Kevin were there as usual. That’s why it took all three of them to pay the bills, none of them ever worked. I fixed the four of us some sandwiches for lunch while they talked over some crappy movie they had playing on the DVD. It wasn’t much of a movie, more like an excuse to put half naked girls on the screen. They didn’t even give that any notice until one of the girls tops came off. “Dude, Kelly’s got a way better rack than she does,” Kevin blurted. “No way,” Steve shot back. “those things are like fuckin’ cantaloupes.” “They probably feel like cantaloupes too,” I could hear Kevin coming up behind me. “Give me some Charmin titties.
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