“But Sam was older than me and he said he didn’t want to be an old man when his kids were in high school. I knew in my heart that I wasn’t ready. But Sam didn’t care what I thought. He had this stupid line he’d heard somewhere—‘they’re not your feelings, they’re your failings.’ He just got meaner every time I refused. We started fighting about it almost all the time. I couldn’t stand it. It was like we had become my parents.

“Then everything came to a climax. After months of fighting, Sam gave me an ultimatum. He said if I wouldn’t have his baby, he would find someone who would. He gave me until his birthday to make up my mind.”

As Pamela spoke I realized that in spite of all the times I’d seen McKale’s father, I really didn’t know him. To me he was a laid-back, easygoing guy, who worked a lot and listened to vinyl records when he wasn’t working, which was partially why McKale had always been with me. I wasn’t sure that I believed everything that Pamela was saying, but it was clear to me that she did.

“Sam said that he would leave you?” I asked.

Pamela’s eyes teared up. She nodded. “More than once. I was devastated. I don’t even think it was about the baby anymore; it was about controlling me. He was good at punishing me. At first he was passive-aggressive. He would go days without speaking to me. I was always more needy than him, so after a day I would be begging him to talk to me—to love me. Then he began treating me like a child. One night he said he was going to spank me. I thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. He made me go over his knee and he spanked me until I cried. It was so humiliating. I felt like a child again.”

Pamela suddenly started crying and I noticed that the diners at the other table were looking at us. I waited for Pamela to gain her composure. As we sat there, the counter bell rang. The woman at the counter said in a bright voice, “Your order’s up.”

Pamela was dabbing her eyes with a paper napkin. “I’ll get that,” I said. I walked up to the counter, got our tray, and brought it back to the table.

By the time I was seated, Pamela had settled some. “Do you want to eat or go on?” she asked.

“Go on,” I said. “So why didn’t you just leave him?”

“Would you have left your wife?” she asked.

“McKale wasn’t abusive.”