The Anonymous Father

In 1983, a man named Wallace sold a beige Buick to a woman named Krystal. Wallace knew full-well that the pre-sale repairs he’d commissioned would give before less than a month of driving. He knew full well that Krystal would curse him for a swindler once a mechanic pronounced a priest’s sentence on the engine of the Grand Marquis, and he still asked her phone number, asked her out to dinner. Wallace knew how to smile to make people think him genuine. His smile was his meal ticket, and if he sold a car and got a phone number, he was pretty much being paid for sex. Krystal smiled shyly, pinked only a little pinker than her brushed on blush, pulled out a pen. He only dialed once, spent enough of his her money on the date, and pretended he lost control before he could pull out since ‘condoms took away too much of the feeling.’ He quit his job and changed his name when he heard about babies, the twins.