By
Stanley Collymore
You could have told me and responsibly asked my
permission in relation to what you’d done, that
while we were officially engaged and you
were telling everyone how excitedly you supposedly
were at the prospect of marrying me, you were
nevertheless covertly, and ostensibly behind
my back, seeing as well as conducting a
strong sexual liaison with other man.
Someone, moreover, who was no stranger to me
and with whom you obviously, and seemingly
deliberately too, got yourself pregnant by
and whose child you consciously and resolutely
decided to carry. While simultaneously, and
deliberately clandestinely with regards to
myself, supplementing that additional
insult with my previously personal
injustice, as you were then, and
still continued afterwards, to
be publicly engaged to me.
Then soon after that and in order to cunningly
cover your duplicitous tracks you became
most deviously keen to expedite our
marital union through advancing
the date of our planned matrimony, telling me
convincingly that you simply couldn’t wait
to become my loving wife and therefore,
happily and most appreciatively share
the remainder of your life with me.
I really believed you, obviously,
and speedier than hither fore
intended, we got married.
We honeymooned in the beautiful tropical and
paradisiacal Caribbean island of Barbados,
and while we were there you excitedly
said that you couldn’t wait for us to
start a family of our own. Besotted as I was
with you it would have been churlish of
me to deny you your earnest request,
and unsurprisingly I presented no
objection to your fully assuring
proposition, entirely unaware
at the time that you already
had another man’s bun
baking in your oven.
We did have that child – earlier forthcoming than
originally planned but a precious son and heir
all the same. Someone I was considerably
gratified to say, would honourably and obligingly
carry on the established family name. And for
the original ten years of his youthful life I
gladsomely watched him grow up and
noticeably matured into everything
that a dutiful and thrilled father,
ably assisted by an adoring
and supervising mother,
could plausibly have
either commended
or hankered for.
Then just before his eleventh birthday our son was
unfortunately medically diagnosed with what
his mother and I were reliably informed
was a hereditary and life-threatening
illness and, moreover, further told
that he would surely die if not treated urgently.
Plasma surgery, and the latter intake from
a close family member was additionally
judged to be an absolute necessity in
order to forestall this threatening
and troublesome catastrophe.
Naturally, I automatically volunteered for this
essential emergency and the indispensable
preliminary tests on him and me were
straightaway and comprehensively
undertaken. But my efforts and altruism were
all in vain. For I was politely but reliably
notified that the DNA tests performed
on the two of us had clearly shown
we weren’t genetically related
and, therefore, there was no
conceivable way that this
ten year-old boy could
be my biological son.
©
Stanley V. Collymore
15
October 2019.
Author’s
Comments:
It’s extremely
soul-destroying when someone whom you’ve trusted, placed your entire faith in
and did so because that person freely and wholeheartedly gave you the distinct
impression that these two attributes, and that you willingly and reciprocally
shared with them, similarly mattered considerably to them as well.
Only for you to
dishearteningly discover that their pledge of loyalty to you was just one big
and massively insulting lie. A monumental act of appalling betrayal calculatedly
forged in the cauldron of egregious malice.
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