Free Cult by Warren Adler

ludicrous symbol of his “sacrifice.”
    She felt ashamed of the thought. It was not the first time she had thought about it in the years since she had left him. The image had lingered in her mind. Sometimes it seemed to sum up his persona and her obscene attraction to him, as if somehow it signified her own incompleteness.
For shame, Naomi,
she admonished herself.
    â€œYou’ve been wonderful, Nay,” he said, turning to her, taking her hand. His was clammy. Or was it hers? Yet he continued to hold it, searching her face, until his eyes drifted away. She let her hand slip through his as he got out the far side. She rolled down her window.
    â€œCome have a drink,” he said, bending low to see her face.
    She looked at her watch. There would be nothing to do but go back to her apartment. Besides, the office was closed by now, she remembered, and she had left her briefcase of take-home work beside her desk.
    â€œAlright.”
    She followed his directions to that section where his room was. She didn’t know what to expect, her foot tense on the accelerator.
    Following him up the single flight of stairs, she waited until he turned the key, opening the door into the familiar commercial aura. Inside, he put his notebook on the dresser. She noted that he had a laptop, open, on his desk.
    He threw his jacket on the bed and brought out two glasses wrapped in plastic that he ripped off, pouring out equal amounts from an opened bottle of scotch.
    â€œI can get water and ice.”
    â€œIt’s all right,” she said.
    â€œSure?”
    â€œSure.”
    Kicking off his shoes, he stretched heavily on the bed, puffing pillows for a backrest, while she took a chair opposite. Taking a deep sip, she watched his Adam’s apple slide and bob in his throat.
    â€œDo you really think it was my fault?” he asked. A light from a lamp on the dresser put his face in shadows. Only his eyes glowed, like cups of molten lead.
    â€œHow did you know I was thinking that?”
    â€œWe have history, Nay. I did know something about the way your mind works.”
    â€œI’ll concede that.”
    â€œI did everything I knew how to keep her happy. Everything.”
    He drank again. “The truth of it was, I was happy. Happy as a pig in shit.”
    So he was facing up to it at last. Drinking, she felt the scotch burn its way down her throat.
    â€œWho knows better than you, Nay? All I ever wanted was a wife, kids, money. The American dream. I’m one of the most successful managers in the company. I’ve got my bosses terrorized that I’ll go elsewhere. Maybe I oversold Charlotte.” He upended his glass. From the shadows, she saw him watching her surreptitiously studying her for the first time that day.
    â€œWhen we split…. You shattered me, Nay. You really did.”
    â€œYou seem to have recovered.” She hadn’t meant to sound as bitchy as she did.
    â€œI did. I really did. Took years. God. I nearly went crazy. But don’t think I ever forgot the hurt.” He got up and, for a moment, she thought he was coming toward her. But he had only risen to pour another drink for them both. She declined hers with a shake of her head and he went back to the bed, bashing the pillows again.
    â€œMaybe Charlotte saw that in me. I can see her giving me up. But not her child, not our Kevin. It’s against nature to give up your child.”
    Against nature?
She couldn’t believe he said that. She felt her body begin to tremble, forcing away the memory of her own dead fetus.
Child!
The word was being jammed into her mind. Thankfully, he had turned his face away, burying it in the smashed pillows, his shoulders shaking. Thinking it would shut him away, she closed her eyes and, for a moment, she lost all sense of time and place. When she opened her eyes again, he was blinking away tears. A large moist spot had formed on the pillowcase. He finished his drink.
    Suddenly, he