Desperately Wanting

The sun was just beginning its descent as Tony made his way down the dusty road. A young woman walked beside him, gripping his calloused hand. Her belly bulged slightly, further stretching the already-tight cotton shirt she wore. Tony looked briefly at her.
“You sure you want to do this?”
She couldn’t meet his face.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I have to do it sometime, and the sooner the better, right?”
The two advanced a bit before Tony somberly replied.
“Not always.”
She stopped, tugging at his hand as he continued to move forward. He gracefully swung around on the heel of his faded leather cowboy boots, their hands remaining together the whole time.
“If we don’t do this now, we’ll never do it. I don’t want that.” She paused before finishing. “I can’t live with that.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “He has to know. Even if he doesn’t give a shit, he has to know.”
He drew her into his arms.
“Then we’d better hurry. We’re burning daylight.”
She nodded, and the two continued at a slightly quickened pase.
**********
At last, the pair arrived at a run-down house along the road. It sat alone amongst the sea of green from the field’s harvest. The house wasn’t much to look at. A whitewashed exterior was peeling, revealing bits of the wooden walls. Faded green shutters, once enshrining the windows, now lay about the small, weed-ridden lawn. A small set of broken stairs led up to the front porch, which was rapidly rotting away.
Tony looked down at the woman.
“You ready?”
She nodded.
Tony braced himself. He always hated doing this.
The woman stepped up to the door and knocked gently. There was no response.
“Daddy?” she asked. “It’s Abigail.”
Tony was contemplating grabbing her wrist and dragging her far, far away from here just as the door slowly creaked open.
A wrinkly old man stood in the doorway, supporting his spindly frame on a worn wooden cane. Wisps of white hair lay atop his bald head, giving it the appearance of a mountain top. Despite his body giving off the impression that it would collapse at any second, his hazel eyes were very much alive and full of emotion. Mainly anger.
He momentarily glared at Tony before turning his attention to Abigail.
“Whaddya want?” he spat. His voice was gruff and hostile.
Abigail didn’t seem fazed.
“We’ve got something to tell you, daddy. Don’t we, Tony?” she asked as she smiled at him.
The old man’s glare returned, as intense and spiteful as ever. It took everything Tony had not to sock the old geezer right then and there.
“Well, spit it out. I ain’t got all day.”
Abigail grabbed Tony’s hand, their fingers interlocking, as she rested the other on her belly.
“Well, daddy,” she briefly glanced at Tony, “I’m pregnant!” The old man just stood there, that same miserable look in his eyes.
“When’s the abortion?”
Tony could only watch as her hands dropped to her sides, all life draining from her face.
“Daddy...what...what do you mean?”
“What’d I tell you, huh? I don’t want any of your goddamn blood being passed down. You’re useless. Last thing this world needs is more useless people.” He poked Tony’s foot with the tip of his cane. “Not to mention this pathetic excuse for a man you married. Stupid bitch.”
With that, he slammed the door in their faces. Tony heard Abigail begin to cry. She fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands in a vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.
Tony whirled back around to face the door, banging his fist against the rotting wood.
“What the hell, you old bastard?” he shouted. “How could you do that? She’s your daughter! Damnit! I knew coming here was a bad idea. Go to hell, you asshole!”
He stopped when he realized that that course of action would get him nowhere. Turning his attention to his wife, he felt his heart lurch. Her sobs grew progressively louder as Tony knelt down behind her, wrapping his arms around her. The two just sat there, Tony offering what refuge his arms could give to his wife.
After several minutes, Abigail’s cries began to die down. Tony helped her to her feet, and she let herself be supported by his strong arms. She stared at him through the tears, bleary-eyed.
“Take me to the field. Please.”
Tony nodded. He guided her down the rickety old steps, and the two set off back down the dusty path.
**********
The field lie just down the road from the house. Tony couldn’t help but smile a bit. It was just as they had left it a few years ago. Tufts of grass stuck up between the gaps of the orange butterfly weeds. A large pear tree sat in the middle of the meadow, its white blossoms visible from a good distance. The moon was out now, casting its pale glow on the meadow, as if to give it life.
Tony lead his wife to the base of the tree, where she sat down, back against the tree. He followed suit, Abigail resting her head on his shoulder. The two just sat, enjoying the comfortable silence, happy that the ordeal was finally over.
It was Tony that broke the silence.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“You and I both know he’s always like that.”
“But he crossed a line. An abortion? What the hell?”
She instinctively brought her hands to rest on her belly. The moonlight caught a simple silver band on her ring finger.
“You know he’s like that--”
“That doesn’t make it right!”
“Tony--”
“That’s his grandson, Abby. Our son. How could he?”
“You promised me from the beginning that you wouldn’t do anything to him, no matter what he did.”
“But that’s our son!”
“Tony,” she put a finger to his lips, “do you remember how hard we fought for this?”
He nodded.
“Finally happened right here, in this meadow.”
She smiled.
“I remember it like it was yesterday. It was dark out, and the meadow was covered in dew. We ran out here barefoot, ‘cause Daddy kicked us out before we could grab anything.”
Tony grimly smiled.
“Hasn’t changed much, has he?”
She shook her head.
“I guess not. But that doesn’t matter. Do you remember what you said to me that night?”
“How could I not?”
She giggled softly.
“Make sure you follow through with that promise. We’ve got a son to raise, you know.”
Tony could only smile as he drew her in for a kiss.
“I love you, Abby.”
“I love you, too.”