Reena's Story

Aaron had visited Reena more and more frequently over the following weeks. He found a warm sense of humor, and that she was very tactile. Hugging her was something he could do for ages, he thought. But she was still reticent to tell him her past.

It took a few glasses of wine, after hours of going through spreadsheets, to get her to open up.

"He was ... we ... well, we dated in university," Reena said, dabbing her eyes. A sad song played on the TV in the background, making it even tougher, Aaron thought. "I studied finance, he was an English major. I worked and I worked and I worked to pay our bills and put him through for a Master's, which I told him he didn't even need."

Aaron just listened, placing his hand on hers comfortingly. She smiled at him, grateful to just get it out.

"He wrote a book. It sold some copies, but not enough to ever live on, you know? But I didn't complain, because writing made him happy. But it frustrated him. Writing, but not getting the audience he deserved." Reena sighed, downing the rest of her glass. Aaron patted her hand again, just trying to support her.

"And then Amy came around."

"Amy?"

"She was an agent. A publicist. A blonde skank with huge funbags." She practically spit the terms out.

"I'm ...sorry," Aaron said lamely.

"His book sells, he becomes successful. He does tours, he does speaking at various book fairs and the like. And I surprise him, I think. I show up at his hotel, manage to convince the hotel staff it'd be a surprise he loved. And they let me into the room ... to find him balls deep in a very pregnant Amy."

She sighed deeply.

"I wanted to have a child more than anything, Aaron. And instead, funbags got it."

"I'm so sorry," Aaron said feebly. Reena looked at him, with affection and perhaps a little pity.

"We've been running ourselves ragged. Why don't we go have a real meal on Friday? My treat."