For the next six months, I continued to receive more disturbing information from the P.I. I’d hired. Throughout all the years Beth and I scheduled fertility treatments, she had never taken part in one. And what’s more, Beth’s regular doctor had administered two different types of birth control until four years ago when she flown out of state to a doctor who finally agreed to give her a full hysterectomy.
I slumped down in my desk chair at my main office across town with a bottle of whisky and the P.I. report, going over the details of the last twenty years of my life that night. Trying to convince myself at the age of 41, I hadn’t wasted my entire life with a woman who never had any intension of given me children. A woman who kept taking and taking while she held back the one thing I want
