3: 3
Marina glanced at me a few times, a flicker of guilt crossing her eyes, and gently pushed Peter away.
"Let's go see a movie…"
"Marina, you're so beautiful, I, I want…"
Peter pulled her back into his arms.
"Marina, you got me the championship. I want to take things further with you…"
"Peter, but this is a hospital room…"
"It's fine! The doctor just did his rounds. As long as we don't ring the call button, no nurse is going to come in and bother us. You don't have to worry."
"And you promised you'd have my baby. I'll treat you right…"
Marina, all reluctance and no resistance, gave up the last of her hesitation.
Clothes kept dropping to the floor.
Her body was soon bared to the air.
Peter watched, swallowing hard, then pounced on her like a starving dog…
I can't describe what I felt.
Rage?
Grief?
Tears welled up past my eyelids and slid down my cheeks.
Marina and I were childhood sweethearts. In our senior year of high school she'd whispered to me that she wanted to be my partner for life.
From middle school on, we used to meet at McDonald's to do homework and memorize our readings.
Back then, if I snuck her hand into mine, she'd blush, and I'd be so happy I'd wake up laughing from my dreams.
The sky was so blue in those days. I thought we'd love each other for a lifetime.
Then, after the SATs, when the acceptance letters came, Marina came to my house and saw Peter standing by the couch. In his pale white shirt, he called out shyly, "Hello, Marina."
For no reason at all, her heart ached for him.
After she learned about Peter's situation from my mother, part of the feelings she'd had for me quietly shifted to him.
Now the two shapes on the floor were tangled together.
Marina was the eager one, and it set my rage burning.
"Marina, you're so beautiful."
"Peter…"
After a while, Marina stood up, put her clothes back on, straightened her messy hair, and walked to the bathroom.
"Bryan, bet you didn't see that coming. Your wife, crying underneath me."
"I've got to say, she's got a great body."
"You're useless now. Give it a few more days and I'll have Marina pull your ventilator."
Peter lowered his head and gloated at me in a hushed voice.
His face had twisted, ugly with triumph.
Then he pulled the blanket over me and said with a sneer, "The wounds on your legs got wet. If they aren't dealt with in time, they'll have to amputate."
The two of them walked out.
Would Marina really pull my ventilator?
Half an hour later, my mother came in.
"Bryan, I saw Marina and Peter go off on a date just now. I'm so happy."
"Marina's a good girl. Peter is my first love's child. My first love and I never got to have a child together. That was my regret."
"If the two of them have a baby, that would make my dream come true…"
She'd wrecked her own son to this, and felt not a shred of guilt, and when she talked about Marina and Peter going on a date she was actually pleased with herself.
In her eyes, did Dad and I not count as people?
"Oh, right. Now that you're a vegetable, I'm going to put the house in your name under Peter's, so he and Marina can have a home together someday."
"I'll tell your father you earned the house and gave it to Peter, so he won't make a fuss."
The wounds on my legs had gotten wet. They itched unbearably now. They must have been infected and inflamed. I might be facing amputation.
But my mother was lost in her old flame, with no thought of wiping them clean for me.
