A Call From LAX Airport & A Baby That's Not Mine

I get a dream telephone call, and I get news that I never had in my life, this is not at all good!... Issue # 108

ifOnlyi… would not have held the deep anger and resentment, I might not have been so afraid of dating anyone long-term again. It affected me deeply.

Monica and I have been dating for some time, and we are incredibly close. I was still living a sober life as ordered by the court; it had been just over six months since my sobriety, and I was coping well.

Now that I was working in the Family Business again, we could only see each other during my time off or on weekends. I managed to save enough money to move into a studio apartment. But before I did, I received a phone call from a lady who said she was at the LAX Airport.

I recognized the accent; it was distinctly Australian. She asked if I remembered her and if she could visit with me. I kindly asked if she would remind me how we met, and then it came out. “I was the woman you chatted up at Rogue’s Night Club.” However, I spoke with many women. “Can you help me a little more?” I replied.

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“Yes indeed,” she said, “if you recall, you went to the Co-owners of Rogues to Peter Simpson's restaurant for lunch before you left, and Peter gave you a lecture for talking with me the night before.” “Oh my God, yes,( Issue #99 tells the full background) I remember, how are you doing?” She replied, “I flew over to see you. You said I was the most beautiful woman you've ever seen, and you're welcome to come over and visit anytime. I’m with my girlfriend as well, Ollie.”

What an opportunity of a lifetime! Dreams do come true! I thought. You wouldn’t believe what I had to say next. It hurts even thinking about this, but I shared that I was dating someone whom I truly liked. We had been together for about six months, and it didn’t feel right for her to visit me.

“Ollie, please, I don’t have a place to stay, and I genuinely want to see you,” she said. “You have no idea how much I want to see you, too, Robyn. But I don’t want to risk hurting my relationship with Monica,” I replied

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In my drinking days, I would have fired up the car and driven to pick both of them up, and driven quickly, I might add. But I couldn’t; yet she wouldn’t accept no for an answer.

She kept me on the phone for over 30 minutes, dropping coins into the pay phone, hoping I would change my mind. I wanted to, believe me, I was so close to saying yes, Ollie, do it. I had the Devil on one shoulder and Angels on the other whispering in my ears, Do it, don’t do it, you can do it, Ollie. I felt a mix of shock and integrity simultaneously.

How can I hang up on her? I thought. It’s not right. I had so many people help me when I was in Australia; it didn’t feel right, and it didn’t feel wrong, but it was. Having to hang up was pulling on my heartstrings.

Monica came to see me a few days later and said, “Ollie, I need to tell you I’m pregnant.” Say WHAT? “Pregnant, and I don’t know what to do.” “To do,” I replied. “Yes, I need your help, Ollie. I couldn’t do what needs to be done without you.” Me? Now I was a lost human being. Where do I go from here? I know, I’ll ask Dad for advice. I wasn’t ready for marriage, and I was faced with this enormous dilemma.

After sharing our situation with my Dad, he made calls to our family doctor and said that the arrangements Monica requested were in place. He gave me the doctor's name, an address in Beverly Hills, and a date and time for Monica and me to visit the doctor. Monica was adamant she could not keep the baby.

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When we arrived, I was not well at all, feeling profoundly sick about what was about to happen. We went into the waiting room, and I was told to wait there for Monica’s return and to drive her home safely.

I nervously paced around the waiting room, sick with worry. Time seemed to be in slow motion.

Next thing, the Doctor comes out of her office, sits me down, joins me in the waiting room, leans over, and says, “Ollie, I would not have done this if I knew how far along the pregnancy was. It was a dangerous procedure. Monica is lucky.” I could tell the Doctor was not happy with me. I didn’t understand the meaning of all of this, but I would find out sooner rather than later.

I drove back, taking her home; she looked pale, I was shitting myself as I knew I needed to tell her parents. When we walked into her house, she walked straight to her room, and I sat down with both her parents. “Ollie, why does Monica look so unwell?” Her mother asked, and I nervously replied, “I need to share with you what Monica went through.”

Her father, being a Minister, looked at me with anger, and her Mom was not happy at all. Just then, both her older brothers walked in and asked, “What's wrong?” and the parents explained what she had just gone through.

The brothers, were both Alaska King Crap fishermen strong as oxen, I knew I was going to get my head taken off by both of them—rough and very protective of their little sister. After a while, things calmed down, so I got out and got out fast. I forgot to give Monica the flowers I bought, so I went back into the house and left them with her parents.

When I had time to think later that evening, after gathering my thoughts, I went and calculated the date Monica said she got pregnant and the date the Doctor told me she got pregnant, and they were far apart. “Oh, Really!” I yelled out to myself. I just got screwed. I was not even with her those days, maybe 10 days we were not together when the Doctor said she got pregnant.

Later, a few days after she had recovered, I confronted Monica about what happened and the bollocking I took from her entire family, as well as the Doctor. She then told me that she got drunk at a party that I wasn’t a part of and slept with someone else!

Now, isn’t that fantastic? I just paid for someone else’s issue, not mine, and took the heat—blazing heat from her family.

I needed to talk to someone who I knew would walk me through the mental pain I was going through. So, I called my old roommate’s wife, Lorri, in Australia, and we spoke for a few hours. She gave me the clarity to move forward. I was not perfect, never have been, never will be.

Forgive her; move on.

Should I have picked up those two ladies all by myself at LAX Airport? Let me know what you would have done?

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ifOnlyi…short stories follow my true-life journey. If you've just found me, you can check out my publication and choose a story of interest or start from # 1.