Secret Fear
Three times before, she had asked him. Each time he had denied the
affairs to his wife, and each time she had believed him, but today was
different. Roger Duffy's beaded forehead evinced his inner turmoil.
When he failed to answer, his wife shot him a look of disbelief before
storming into the bathroom and slamming the door.
Roger's heart ached as he heard the
muffled sobs through the door. The impending
calamity that would result from his actions
could not be processed by his numbed brain.
It wasn't that he was afraid of confessing to an
indiscretion because that would be the easy
part. The source of his fear was the call that
he'd received from the somber voiced
receptionist telling him that his doctor wanted
to see him.
"What about?" Roger asked.
"He needs for you to come in to see him,
Mr. Duffy."
"Can't you just put him on the line? Is he
there?"
"He'll be expecting you at nine," she replied, before hanging up.
Roger knew why the doctor wanted to see him. This type of information was too delicate to deliver over
the phone. Overcome by panic, Roger went out on a bender. He drank until the bartender refused to
serve him. He then wandered the streets before returning home in the early morning. His late arrival had
prompted his wife to ask about another woman.
So there he stood -- listening to the intermittent whimpers, paralyzed by fear, wishing he were never
born.
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