I sit with my head buried in my arms on the steering wheel, trying to decide where to start. I’m boiling mad while he sits there saying nothing.
I point my finger at his face and yell, “Jake, who the hell are you calling in Houston?”
He reaches out, and grabs my finger. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I yell pulling my finger out of his grasp. “Who the hell are you calling in Houston?”
“No one. No one. I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he pleads like he’s completely innocent.
I take the phone bill, and throw it at him. The papers bounce off him and fall all over the truck. “Do you have an idea about this, you fucking liar?”
“Can you calm down?” he asks. “You know I can’t talk to you when you act like this.”
“Calm down!” I shout. “You’re calling some woman for hours and hours and you expect me to calm down?”
“It’s not a woman,” he barks back at me like I’m so stupid to think such a thing.
“Oh my God, you fucking liar,” I scream. “I called her, you asshole. I talked to her!”
This takes him by surprise. It changes the whole argument. He puts his head in his hands and barely louder than a whisper, he asks, “Can we please go home so we can discuss this?”
“Fine, let’s go home,” I shout.
I throw the truck into reverse, and back out without even looking behind me. By my good fortune, there’s no car behind me. I speed away with absolutely no regard for speed limits or stop signs. Every time I look at his face, he looks like a man who’s thinking of answers to the questions he knows are coming. I’ve seen that face many times before, and I know not to believe anything he says. I pull in front of our apartment, throw the truck into park without waiting for it to come to a stop, and walk inside, leaving the door open behind me. I sit on the couch with my arms crossed. I expect him to walk in behind me but he doesn’t. Maybe he thinks more time alone will calm me down but the longer I wait, the angrier I get. He finally comes in, walks right past me without saying a word, and goes to the kitchen to get a beer. He returns to the living room, and sits beside me like we’re about to watch television or something.
“Don’t sit beside me!” I point to the chair to my right.
In a move that shocks me, he reaches over and tries to kiss me! He obviously thinks this will be just another argument that will end with us in bed.
“Don’t you dare kiss me,” I shout and slap his face. “It won’t work this time.”
He gets up, moves to the chair, and sits with his head down like he’s in deep prayer. “Don’t just sit there,” I shout. “Explain this to me!”
He keeps looking down without moving like he’s trying to figure out his next move. We look like two people playing checkers or something. “Why would you do this?” I shout but he still says nothing. My anger turns to hurt, and I finish in tears. “If you were so unhappy with me, why didn’t you just leave?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he yells like I’ll believe it if he repeats it enough times. “We’re only friends. I just needed someone to talk to.”
He sounds so stupid. “Friends?!” I shout. I get up and put my finger so close to his face that I almost jab him with my fingernail. “You’re such a liar,” I yell. “If you’re just friends then why haven’t I heard of her?”
“Why do you think? Look at you. Look how crazy you get over nothing. You start screaming, and I can’t talk to you.”
“I’m screaming because you’re fucking another woman.”
He falls back in his chair like he’s going to pass out. “You’re ridiculous,” he roars, now sounding a little more convincing. “You’re so jealous of everyone. I can’t even talk to a girl without you accusing me of something.”
I ask him one question after another so quickly it’s hard for him to keep up. His answers are no help at all. The more he talks, the angrier I get. I scream, I cry, and I threaten to pack my bags and go back to Georgia.
“You’re acting crazy” is his answer to everything.
Part of me feels like I am acting crazy. The whole thing makes me crazy. I go to the closet, and grab my suitcase. I start throwing everything I own into it.
“You’re a liar, you’re a liar, you’re a liar,” I scream as I go from one drawer to the next, one cabinet to the next, and one room to another. I throw open drawers so forcefully it leaves them broken on the floor.
“I hate you,” I yell as loudly as possible as I go from the bedroom to the bathroom and throw everything from my drawers into a box. I walk back to the couch, and plant myself in front of him. “You have a wife at home,” and then I stop myself. “Oh, sorry, I’m not your wife. You never asked me to be your wife, did you?”
“You’re going to ruin everything,” he says.
“No, you ruined everything,” I snap back.
When I started, I was so determined to leave but the more I pack the more I question what I’m doing. Everything swirls around in my head. Where will I go? How can I take care of myself? What will people say? Is it possible they really are friends? On the outside, I scream like a woman who’s absolutely sure she knows the truth, and is leaving once and for all. On the inside, I’m terrified and want this whole argument to just stop.
When you love someone, you don’t want to lose them. You’ll believe a lie. You’ll even lie to yourself if that’s what it takes to keep your world together. The more I pack, the more I search for a reason, any reason, to stay. I want him to physically stop me from packing my things but that doesn’t happen. He just sits on the couch, watching me.
When everything I own is stuffed inside one suitcase, a large laundry basket, and some plastic grocery bags, I look at him sitting on the couch. My mouth is dry, my eyes are red from crying, and it’s hard to get a single word out. The hurt, resentment, and anger burst out of my body as I realize these may be the last words I’ll ever speak to him.
“You did this!” I scream. “Remember, you did this! I love you. I gave you everything. Obviously, I mean nothing to you.”
He gets up from the couch, walks over to me, takes me in his arms, and in a much softer tone, he says, “That’s not true. I do love you. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. But I can’t make you believe me. We’re only friends. Maybe I shouldn’t have called her but we’re only friends.”
He said it! After three years, he finally said the words I’ve been waiting to hear. So many times I’ve tried to talk to him about marriage and kids. Now, seeing me walk away, he finally realizes what he’s going to lose. I put my arms around his neck, and lay my head on his shoulder.
“I love you,” I cry. “I love you so much.”
We’re standing at the open door of our apartment for the whole world to see the fight they’ve been hearing for the last two hours. I’m sure it sounded like World War III. Now we’re holding each other like two newlyweds. I’m still crying, and I repeat over and over again how much I love him and don’t want to lose him. He pushes the door closed to give us some privacy.
When I gain my composure I see for the first time the mess I made. His white shirt is drenched from my tears, and stained with my mascara. The floor is covered in clothes, books, and trash thrown everywhere. Cabinets and drawers are all open. One lies broken on the floor.
He takes my hand, and leads me into the bedroom. Our arguments always end with us having sex, and this argument is no different. He removes my shirt, and then my bra. He starts kissing my breasts while he unbuttons my jeans. I’m out of my clothes and quickly get him out of his. We make love like we haven’t for months. For the first time, I no longer see him as my boyfriend but as my future husband. He’s the man who’ll take care of me, and be the father of my children. After we’re finished, we both fall sound asleep.
I wake up, and the apartment is dark and quiet. I look at the clock on the nightstand. It reads 4:04 in the morning. The only thing I hear
is the sound of him snoring on top of me. I lie there thinking about everything that just happened. Somehow, in the middle of him telling me that he loves me, and wants to marry me, I forgot about the phone bill and the woman who refused to even talk to me. I was so determined to end this toxic relationship once and for all but now I’m doing the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do. I’m back in bed with him asleep on top of me. Nothing has changed.
I lie so still—afraid to wake him up because of the argument that will start all over again. A dark presence has swept over me, and his body laying on top of me gets heavier and heavier. I just want him off me. One tear after another falls from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, and onto my pillow. I reach up to wipe them away, and he stirs just a little. Maybe this time, things will be better. I don’t see how they can get any worse.
– CHAPTER 3 –
Throughout our entire relationship, Jake always accuses me of sleeping with other men. No matter how hard I try to convince him it isn’t true he just won’t believe me. Are there men who come to the restaurant and ask me out? Yes, all the time. Do I flirt? Sometimes. There’s no ring on my finger, and it helps my tips.
One of these men is Ryan Brunick. He’s a handsome lawyer, exceptionally charming, and a good tipper. He knows how to use words and his sense of humor to charm women. The other waitresses would “jump his bones in a second.”
He always sits in my section, and now I started leaving a heart on his ticket. I’ve stayed after work a couple of times to have drinks with him. He’s easy to talk to, and always willing to listen. I told him how I quit school and followed Jake to Texas, and how our arguments continue to get more and more violent. This time, when I tell him about the phone bill and my conversation with the girl on the phone, he’s not at all surprised but he’s shocked when I tell him we’re getting married.
“Faith, why are you talking about marriage?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble as I take sugar packets out of the tray, sort them by color, and put them back again. “I love him.”
“Fine, but you don’t have to marry him. Slow down. Take it easy.”
Everything he says is right, but I’m in love. Love doesn’t count the cost. Love doesn’t put the positives on one side and the negatives on the other to find out which side weighs the most. I’m determined to marry my boyfriend as soon as we can afford our rings. All of Ryan’s words can’t change that.
When we walk out of the restaurant, Ryan gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek … or maybe it was on my mouth. There’s been a lot of flirtation between us, and now he just kissed me. He may have honorable intentions, he may be able to give me a better life, but I love my boyfriend. If I’m going to be married, I’ve got to end this thing between us. When he pulls away, I put my head down, and say, “Ryan, we can’t keep meeting like this.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s not that. It’s just … it’s just that I can’t see you.”
I give him one last hug, determined never to see him again. When he returns to the restaurant, I ask someone else to take his table. Eventually, he stops coming in altogether.
– CHAPTER 4 –
The first few weeks after I found out Jake was calling another woman, things were great. But it didn’t last. In no time, things go right back to how they were before. He starts staying out late again, and we go right back to fighting over everything. Less than a month after I was packed and ready to leave, he tells me how much he hates me, and wouldn’t marry me “if I was the last girl on earth.” I lock myself in the bathroom, and cry on the floor with my head on the toilet.
Two weeks later, I’m working the night shift and it’s so slow that I’m sent home early. When I walk into the apartment, I hear Jake in the bedroom watching porn, which he knows I hate. It’s just another thing we argue about. I open the door, and he’s completely naked but he’s not watching porn. He’s lying in bed with some red-headed girl on top of him.
“What the fuck, Jake,” I yell as they both freeze and look directly at me.
He throws himself back on the bed, and puts his arm over his eyes to hide his face.
Who is this woman? I’m prettier and much thinner than she is. She has red hair that’s been colored some kind of blue or purple, and she has a large tattoo on her back. Why would he ever choose this girl over me? She looks down at him with a grin like she’s glad I just walked in.
“Is this her? Is this the girl you were calling from Houston?”
“What do you want me to say?” he asks as the girl climbs off of him.
“You asshole,” I shout. “This is how you do me? All my friends told me, but I stood by you.” Suddenly everything seems clear. “Tell me the truth: is she the reason you moved to Texas?”
They both put on their clothes in front of me, and this girl says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
“Shut up. I’m not talking to you,” I yell. “Tell me … is this why you moved to Texas?”
His head is covered by his hands as they both sit in silence. He finally looks up, spreads his arms wide, and yells at the top of his voice, “Yes! Is that what you want to hear?”
I get a better look at her while she’s getting dressed. This girl is overweight, and has breasts much bigger than mine with a little devil tattoo on one of them. Jake has always made little comments if I gain so much as two pounds. He’ll tell me to go jogging. Now he brings this girl into my bed? I walk out, and slam the door behind me so hard that the picture of me and Jake together falls off the wall.
I stomp on the glass with all my might, and scream, “You fucking asshole,” loud enough for them both to hear me through the closed door.
A minute later they walk hand in hand out of our apartment. I don’t even get the satisfaction of leaving him. He leaves me!
***************** PRESENT MOMENT *****************
Throughout our lives, people come and go. Some people (like our parents, grandparents, teachers, and counselors) are put here to help and guide us. Everyone might not agree with me, but I really believe God brings people into our lives to save us from ourselves. I knew Jake wasn’t good for me. Everyone told me so. The red flags were everywhere. So why didn’t I listen? It’s simple—I was in love. I was sure that everyone was wrong. I’d prove them all wrong.
I know I would have become a different, better person if I’d never met Jake. I’d be more trusting, and less guarded and defensive. I wish I had stayed home and rented a video that Saturday night long ago instead of cruising down Main Street. I should have obeyed my father, and stayed away from Jake when we were caught together at school. Now, I can wish all I want but it won’t change a thing. I’m trapped in this horror, and can’t get out.
It’s all so clear to me now. This is where it all started. If I could go back and change just one small thing in my life, everything would have turned out different. I wouldn’t be in the living hell I’m in today.
– CHAPTER 5 –
The truth is, I don’t believe it’s over with my boyfriend. Why would he choose this girl over me when I’m so much prettier? I just know he’ll see everything we have, and want me back. If he cheated on me then I’m sure he’ll cheat on this girl, and she’ll leave him. However it happens, this can’t be the end. Sure I’ll make him beg but I’ll take him back. We love each other.
I decide to stay in Austin, and wait for him to return. I’m left alone in our apartment with a manager who keeps leaving notes on the door that my rent is past due. I’ll stay in our apartment until they kick me out.
Well, I’m wrong about everything. Jake never comes back. The following weeks are so hard for me. I’m almost nineteen years old, and I have nothing. I have a low-paying job, no car, and an apartment I can’t afford. I call my parents, and they beg me to come back home but I can’t. I won’t return home and be treated like a child again.
Three months after Jake walked out of my life, Ryan walks into
my work and sits at one of my tables. When I walk up to his table, he smiles and says, “Hey gorgeous, long time no see.”
I’ve been walking around very depressed. Seeing him with that beautiful look on his face lifts my spirits. “Too long,” I laugh. This is the first time I’ve smiled in weeks.
He looks at my hand. “I don’t see a ring on your pretty little finger.”
I show him the front and back of my left hand. “Nope, you were right.”
He puts his hand on mine. “Well, I get no pleasure in being right.”
The restaurant is packed. Each time I walk by his table, I smile at him but we don’t get a chance to talk. When I drop off his check with my usual heart, he asks, “Would you like to get together sometime?”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” I answer.
“Why don’t you give me your phone number and I’ll give you a call?”
“No phone,” I wince. “It got cut off.”
“How about this Saturday? We can meet at the park by the water.”
“Sounds good.” I point at a customer who just walked in and say, “Gotta go. Talk to ya later.”
Two days later, we meet at the park. There’s a little pond in the middle with benches scattered around. He’s different from anyone I’ve ever been around. He’s educated, intelligent, well-spoken, and sweet. He carries most of the conversation but asks just enough questions to get me to open up.
“How you been?” he asks.
“I’ve been okay,” I say shaking my head. “He’s an asshole. Everyone warned me.”
“It’s hard to see it when you’re the one in the relationship.”
“Oh, I saw it,” I assure him. “I caught him in our bed with the same girl from Houston.”
“Ouch,” he winces. “I’m so sorry. At least you found out now before you got married and had kids.”
“Thank God for that,” I agree, thinking how many times I thought, and even hoped, I might be pregnant.
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 3
