by Ward, H. M.
I barely come back to myself as he starts kissing my neck. I still can’t speak. I’m a mess of heat and jagged breath. I feel his warm lips press gently against my hot skin. One of his hands is in my hair, the other around my waist. He lifts me off of him, making me gasp, and settles me on his lap and holds me, so that I’m facing away from him. I lean into his back and he wraps his legs around my hips. His arms wrap around me and he holds on tight, like I might fly away.
We sit there in silence for a long time. I wonder what he’s thinking. When we get out of the tub, Sean takes me to the shower. He grabs my hand and we step into the steaming shower stall. Using shower gel, Sean rubs his hands over my body and soaps me up. Next he uses the shampoo and works it into my hair. Then, he turns me around and pulls my body against his, before the soap is rinsed away. With one arm wrapped around my chest and the other around my waist, he holds me tight. I turn my head to the side and let him hold me. Sean doesn’t let go right away. I notice that his heart races, but I don’t know why. It pounds wildly, like he’s running or afraid. Taking his hands I loosen his grip and turn back toward him.
“What’s wrong?” I can’t ignore it any more. Something’s bothering him. I have no right to ask, but I want to make it better.
Sean smiles sadly at me and says, “Nothing.” That’s the end of the conversation. We rinse off and get out. Sean hands me a fluffy white robe. I slip into it, and thank him. He nods and leaves me to untangle my hair in the bathroom.
It takes me longer than I wanted, but I don’t have conditioner or the stuff I use in my hair. Combing it felt more like pulling it out. When I emerge from the bathroom, Sean is dressed. He’s wearing his clothes from earlier, with one exception—he’s also wearing shoes.
A shot of cold panic settles into the center of my chest. Clutching my robe at the neck, I ask, “Where are you going?”
Sean won’t look at me. His movements are quick and erratic, like he wants to run from me. Sean walks across the room and closes the closet doors. He stands there for a moment, looking down at the handles before turning to me. A fake smile spreads across his lips and he heads for the door, keys in hand.
I step in front of him. “You’re leaving?” I can’t believe this. Sean looks at me for a full minute with pity. The floor of my stomach drops. It feels like I’ve been thrown off a cliff. The look he gives me says this is the way things are, but I can’t accept it. My heart beats harder, as fear works its way up my spine.
“Yes.” His voice is cold. “Step out of the way.”
“I can’t.” My voice catches in my throat. The voice in the back of my mind is telling me that I’m going to regret this, that I need to step aside, but I can’t. I reach for him. “Sean, stay.”
A cold look crosses his face. My heart thumps in my chest like it’s been shot. “I asked you to move. Don’t make me force you.” I don’t move. I can’t. I’m frozen with fear and remorse has choked me so hard that I can’t speak. I don’t know what expression is on my face, but it’s the wrong one.
Sean grabs my arm and pulls me aside. I expect him to walk through the door without a word, but he stops. His eyes don’t meet mine. There’s something about him that makes me think that I’m missing something. Sean’s grip loosens on my shoulder, but he doesn’t let go. It feels like I’m holding him up, like he’s falling apart. When he speaks, there’s a hitch in his voice. “I thought I could do this, but... I can’t. It’s not you. I—” Dark lashes conceal his blue eyes. When Sean exhales, he looks beaten. It makes me want to fix whatever’s hurting him, but I’m starting to think it’s me. “I need to think.”
Sean’s hand slips off my shoulder and he turns away without another word. Every instinct I have says to stop him, to help him, but I know I can’t. There’s something there, beneath the surface and it’s destroying him. It’s the reason he avoids New York, it’s the reason he’s walking away from me. Sean disappears through the door, head hung between his shoulders.
32
Breathing hard, I watch the door slip shut. Shock washes over me. I don’t know what I expected things to be like, but this isn’t it. Wide-eyed, I pad over to the bed and sit down. The sheets are rumpled. The room smells like Sean and sex. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. The sensation worsens, growing tighter and tighter until I’m gasping for air.
Tears streak my face as I throw myself onto a pillow. I grip it and try to suck in air, but I can’t. Sean’s scent hits me hard and makes me choke. I push myself up and try to get hold of my emotions. I knew this wasn’t real. It’s all a game. Sean is fucked up and he needs things this way. There is a reason for it. He said that over and over again, but it doesn’t mesh. Nothing does. It’s like there are two different versions of him. One is playful and kind. The other is so messed up that he can’t fuck a girl he hasn’t paid for. I clutch my face and push the tears away with the back of my hand. I’ve fallen for him. I can’t help it.
I want to call Mel, but she’s working. I need to get control over my feelings. I need to. I have to. Suddenly, the urge to go for a run hits me hard. Fresh air, the night wind in my face—all that shit will clear my head. I just need to get out of here. I glance at my ankle, wondering what Miss Black will do if I leave the building.
Screw that. I need this.
Padding to the closet, I yank the door, but it doesn’t open. I pull it again, but it doesn’t move. My vision is blurry from tears. I lean over and look at the handles. They lock. Sean locked the closet before he left. Rage flashes through, me so hot and hard that I can’t stand it. My arm swings on its own and smashes into the door. I scream, but it doesn’t make me feel better.
Wearing nothing but a robe, I turn and lean against the closet doors. I slide to the floor and hold my face in my hands. Every second I stay in this room, I feel the walls closing in around me. There’s no air. I’m trapped. I tug at my hair, angry. I love him. How could I be so stupid? I close my eyes and sit there until the panic recedes. I can leave the room, but I have no clothes. I won’t get very far. The hotel staff will stop me before the elevator reaches the ground floor.
My phone rings. It takes me a second to recognize the ringtone. It’s Mel. I dart across the room, grabbing my purse and dumping it out on the floor. I answer just before voicemail picks up. “Mel!”
“Avery girl, are you all right? Shit, you don’t sound all right. Say something. Let me hear you talk.” Mel shushes someone in the background.
My voice is shaky. “I thought you were at work.”
“I was. I’m done. Guy was working on speedy issues.” Someone starts laughing in the background.
I recognize that chuckle. “Is that Marty?” Why are they hanging out together? They hate each other.
“Yeah, honey. Now tell me what that piece of shit did to you. Are you hurt? I’ll kick his white ass myself—”
I cut her off. “No, I’m not hurt. He got mad and left. I wanted to go after him,” I lie. I can’t tell her that I was going to leave the building. “But he locked the closet. I can’t get my clothes.”
“What’d she say?” I hear Marty asking in the background.
“Shut your face, Showboat. I’ll tell you later,” Mel snaps at Marty. Then she says to me, “This is easy. Go look at the door.” I walk over there, unsure of what she wants me to do. “What kind is it? Single door? Double doors?”
“Double. They close in the center. There’s no doorjamb down the middle. The handle is the lever kind.”
“Yeah, because that matters,” she says sarcastically. “Haven’t you ever busted into a room before?”
I stare at the phone like that’s the stupidest question ever. When I put it back to my ear, I say, “My roommate locks me out on a regular basis. What do you think?”
“Don’t get fresh with me. I don’t like to put my nose in other people’s business. How was I…?” Marty is cracking up in the background. He’s mocking her because Mel is always in everybody’s business. When she speaks again, her tone is terse. She
doesn’t comment on Marty’s giggles. “Okay, Avery, this one is easy. Look between the doors, down by the lock. If you’re lucky, the lock is in there backwards and you just have to shove a credit card through the middle. If not, you have to work it in from behind.”
“How do I know which way will work?” I look at it, not sure what I’m supposed to see.
“The locking part is flat. If it’s in backwards, the part facing you is curved. What do you see?”
Peering through the slat in the door, I can see a gold piece of metal. “It’s curved.”
“Good. Pop that baby open.” Mel waits while I dig through my purse and grab my debit card. I push it into the space between the two doors and it slips right in. I pull the door and it opens.
“It worked!” I say surprised. I glance at the card. Damn. That was easy.
“Of course it worked. You think I don’t know stuff? Well, I do.”
Marty sings in the background, “She does!”
“Shut up, Showtunes,” Mel snaps at Marty. “Listen Avery, if that messed up fucker hurts you, crush the button on your bracelet.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, as I look through the closet for my dress. Sean’s coat is hanging up next to my dress. I bump the hanger and his coat falls to the floor. Something falls out of the pocket. I pick it up and look at a crumpled ball of paper. “Listen, thanks for helping. I should be home for a little bit tomorrow. I’ll catch up with you guys then.” I hang up the phone.
Something about the paper seems weird. Sean has this really nice coat, but has garbage in the pockets? I think it’s strange, so I stick my hands into both pockets. They’re empty. I didn’t think he was the kind of guy to shove nasty old stuff in his coat. He’s too highbrow for that.
I look at the balled up paper again and open it. In that moment, everything changes. I stare blankly at the note, not fathoming the depths of what’s happening. People are like this. People do one thing and say another. It fits with Sean’s words when he walked out. He thought he could do it, but he can’t. Not this time. Something changed. Something’s different, and now I know what it is.
I stare at the paper, reading the pretty cursive letters over and over again.
We love you! –Amanda & Baby
33
I can’t swallow. I stare at the paper, feeling my throat grow tighter and tighter. There’s a baby. He’s a father. Sean is married and has a baby. Oh, holy…
I sit down hard and stare at the note. It was written hastily on a piece of computer paper. There are smudge marks, like someone grabbed it—the baby maybe. This is what he couldn’t say. It had nothing to do with me. It’s him. I press my eyes closed. I don’t know what to do. He has a family and he’s cheating—with me.
Misery bubbles up inside my chest. I wad the paper back up and put it in his pocket so it looks like I never saw it. I lock the closet door and make sure everything is back the way it was. Then, I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I drop the robe to the floor and step in. I stand there, letting the water wash away every ounce of remorse I have. Sean’s a dick. He’s not what I thought at all. I wonder if I should confront him. It sounds insane, but I feel like I’m the one being cheated on.
He’s not yours, Avery, a little voice says in the back of my mind. He never was.
This is a job. That’s what it’s always been to him. That’s what it always will be. I swallow hard and turn off the water. After I towel off, I grab my phone and call Black.
“How are things going?” she says with her silky voice.
“Very well. I’d like to throw my name in for more work as soon as this is over.” Even as I said the words, I can’t believe I’m saying them. If Sean is like this, if I have to finish this job, by the time I’m done I’m going to be so emotionally repressed that it won’t matter who I fuck. Maybe this is what Mel and Black meant. Maybe it’s the reason why they ended up staying and taking more clients.
“Excellent, Avery.” Her voice has that hollow politeness that irritates me. I hear it now, vibrating like a plucked string. “Let me make sure I understand you correctly. You don’t want any time off between clients?”
“No,” I say, “The sooner the better.”
“I understand. Is there anything else?”
Is there? Should I tell her that I’m disillusioned? Should I tell her that I fell for Sean, but he’s just a cheating jackass? I smile to myself. I sound like an idiot. “No, that’s all.”
I press END CALL and toss my phone back in my bag. I let the numbness overtake me. There’s no other way to get through this, and I have to finish it. There’s no other way to survive.
* * *
I leave the room in nothing but my robe around 2:00 am. I’m stopped on the ground floor by the hotel manager. He’s an older, squat man wearing a pristine black suit. It distracts from his round face.
“Miss Ferro,” he says, taking my elbow to keep me from walking through the lobby. “May I help you with something?”
I nod. “Is Sean down here somewhere? I didn’t see him at the bar.”
“Yes, he is. Let me take you to him.” I walk next to the man. He offers, “My name is Thomas. If you need anything, I’m happy to help. Mr. Ferro is one of our best customers and as such, we try to humor his requests. However, I would appreciate it if you wore clothes next time you came down to the lobby.”
My face flames red. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s a perfectly honest mistake,” he smiles at me, but his eyes say he knows why I’m here, what I am. We stop in front of a set of huge double doors. Thomas pulls one open and says, “Good evening, Miss Ferro.”
I step through the door and stop. Blinking rapidly, I try to get my eyes to adjust to the light. I glance around at an empty ballroom. There’s a grand piano in the opposite corner. Sean is sitting in front of it, playing. I don’t move. For a moment, I just watch him play. Sean’s eyes are closed and his dark hair hangs down over his brow. His body moves to the music like they’re one and the same. The song is so somber, so dark. It tugs at my heart. I have to remind myself what Sean is, what he’s done. But as I watch him play, I don’t want to. I can’t think about it. I don’t have that luxury. I have to do this to survive. Sean’s life is his to mess up. I tell myself that If Sean wants to sleep with hookers instead of his wife that it’s none of my business, but I’m not that cold. I hate the idea of being the other woman, the girl that ruins a family. But that’s what I am, a plaything with a high price tag.
Slowly, I pad across the room. The cold tiles chill my bare feet. Sean is still playing the lament when I come up behind him. It’s a song I know well. I slip onto the bench and place my fingers on the keys. Sean glances at me, but he doesn’t stop playing. I move my fingers with his, playing with him. Our shoulders brush together occasionally as I reach in front of him to press a key. Sean’s blue gaze cuts to the side. He watches me as he plays. Neither of us says anything. When the song ends we both sit there, staring straight ahead.
“I’m sorry,” Sean says. “I shouldn’t have walked away like that.”
I find a way to act like it didn’t matter. I pretend that I don’t know his secret. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s fine, Sean.”
His blue eyes slip over me. Sean hesitates before saying, “You play very well. Who taught you?”
“My mother.” I feel nothing. If I keep thinking it, it’ll happen. Eventually I’ll feel nothing. Eventually, every last part of me will go numb. I won’t react to his voice or his touch. I can do this. I stare straight ahead.
“She must be a wonderful musician.”
I know he’s searching for kind words, but I don’t care. I answer bluntly. “She was. She died along with my father in a car wreck last year. That was my favorite song. I bugged her to help me with it frequently over the past few years.”
Sean watches me as I speak. Finally, he says, “You’ve been through a lot.” It’s a statement. He leaves it hanging in the air, so I nod.
“Yeah, but who hasn’t?” I try to sound apathetic, but I don’t pull it off. I shrug and add, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, or so I hear.” I glance at him, expecting him to make light of it, but he just nods.
“That’s what I hear, too.” After a moment, he says, “What other songs do you know?”
I look at the piano in front of me. A million memories of me and my mom flash by. She loved playing classical music. I preferred darker things, more contemporary stuff. I touch the keys lightly and start playing. To my surprise, Sean joins in. Neither of us speaks. We play like that, alternating songs until sleep pulls at me so hard that I can’t keep my head up.
My fingers fumble a few times and Sean stops. He turns to me and stands. Leaning over, he scoops me up and cradles me in his arms. “Avery, I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He sets me down, looking into my eyes. Sean presses his lips gently to mine and a surge of guilt nearly strangles me. I do everything I can manage to kiss him back and not act like his cheating bothers me, but it does.
That night I barely sleep. I keep seeing a beautiful woman holding a sweet baby in her arms. They’re just faces, something my mind dreamed up while I slept, but I feel like I stabbed them in the back. I’m not cut out for this. I wish I were dead inside. I wish I lost the ability to feel anything. I fall asleep thinking, wishing that I was someone else.
34
The next morning, Sean is gone. He slipped out without waking me. There’s a note on his pillow. I open it, and think of that crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. My heart clenches. I can’t breathe. Pressing my eyes closed, I chase away the pain. Inhaling slowly, I open his note.
