Driving home near dawn, sober, I
realized how stupid I was. After our couch escapade I lived in fear for three
months to see if I was pregnant. Edward gave me a pregnancy test and was
assured after one month but it took two more to convince me. He took responsibility
but I knew it was me who got pregnant and my fault.
I never told anyone about this
possible pregnancy, even the older woman at work who I normally confided in. I
didn’t know what I would do if pregnant. Edward assured me he would take care
of it. I knew what that meant but was afraid to confirm it. I knew I couldn’t
have an abortion, confess to my husband or marry Edward. During those months I
was a basket case and lost five pounds.
We went to dinner in San Francisco
twice more but after dinner stayed in a hotel. First was the Mark Hopkins which
I had heard about and had seen from the street but had never been in. He
dressed me formally with a black dress and high heels. We dined in the hotel
restaurant and the trip to bed was an elevator ride. We had a view of the city
before, while and after sex.
Edward knew the in spots in San Francisco, those not generally known by tourists. The next San Francisco date was to the Hotel Griffon, a boutique hotel in the Embarcadero.
First we had sex and then we waked
down to their intimate ground floor restaurant and lounge bar for Singapore
slings, wine, dinner and then back up for more sex with a view of the Bay
Bridge. With the window open, exhausted, I fell asleep to the cool air of the
Bay. Awoken by the requested front desk phone call at 3 AM we left despite my
being still groggy so I could be home wearing my work smock before the children
and husband got up.
With time constraints and sleep
needs, however, a Friday date out was more frequently a local formal restaurant,
a race back to the apartment, sex and a nap until time to rush home, “from
work”. The farthest afield we ventured outside of San Francisco was Jack London
Square in Oakland and Woodside on the peninsula but more typical were San Jose,
Saratoga and Los Gatos upscale faire.
I learned a lot about food, wine and how to enjoy them as if I belonged in an upscale restaurant.
I never went with my husband to these places. To do so would add to my betrayal. I did take him for Sunday brunch atop the Bank of America building which Edward told me was good but we could not go to as Sundays were my husband's. Our family San Francisco trips were to museums, the zoo, Golden Gate Park, Steinhart Aquarium and Chinatown.