Life Without You

by S. P. West

  I look at my watch and see that it is nearly noon, if I want to have a chance of catching Alex before he goes to lunch I’ll need to pull my big girl knickers on and get myself inside the building.

  I’ve been to Alex’s workplace once or twice before in the past but I’ve never paid attention to the fact that there is a small park across the street. I suppose that it’s a nice place for people spend their lunch breaks instead of being stuck in a stuffy office all day. It reminds me of the one I used to go to back home when I had a break from my class schedule at university. The weather in England is a lot more temperamental than San Francisco, yet on the rare occasion of a gloriously hot sunny day I would be in that park, a book in my hand, transporting myself to another world.

  I can just about see a couple making out on a small area of grass behind a bench. I can’t see their faces; I won’t ever know their names but right at this moment I’m jealous of them. Jealous, of an anonymous couple because they have what Alex and I have lost.

  The woman is sat on top of the man, facing away from me. Her deep red shirt has ridden up her back slightly; so that I can just make out that she has a tattoo at the base of her spine. I look on enviously as she tosses her head back, obviously laughing at something the man says before she bends down to kiss him. His fingers wind through her short brown hair as he gently pulls her down to deepen the kiss.

  That simple gesture is so loving, so sexual that I have to look away. My face flushes in embarrassment at witnessing something so intimate. I feel like a voyeur just watching them.

  It fills my heart with pain to think that this time last year I was the woman in red. I was happy and in love, I had a man who loved and adored me. When did it all change?

  When I look back, they are still locked in their passionate embrace, completely oblivious to everything around them. I can’t stand to look at them anymore, so I turn and head into the building gently caressing my non-existent baby bump as I go.

  The offices for Wells & Bromley take up the 16th through 18th floors of a tall, modern high-rise on Clay Street, in the financial district of the city. I take a large steadying breath as I exit the elevator on the 16th floor and walk towards the large frosted glass desk that dominates the reception area. It’s always struck me as a rather sterile, hospital-like space with its white walls, white furniture and pale marble flooring. The only vague bit of color comes from the stainless steel skirting that wraps around the base of the desk. Even the scant few pictures on the wall are essentially blank canvases with a dash of black paint. I dread to think how much they paid for them.

  Everything about it is so uniform and precise. It’s spotlessly clean and nothing is out of place. The design of it matches the ethos of Wells & Bromley as a company. Projecting an image of money, ruthless efficiency, power and prestige. It is a beautiful space and yet to my mind it’s utterly soulless. This is not a company where people care, no; this is company that will screw you over the first chance they get.

  I’ve never felt more out of place in my life.

  The very young, platinum blonde receptionist sitting behind the imposing desk sits tapping away at keyboard ignoring me until I clear my throat.

  Her eyes flare in recognition as she eventually looks up at me from her screen, a look of concern on her face before being quickly replaced by a small, obviously well practiced smile.

  What the hell was that about?

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m wondering if Alex…Alex Thorson, is available at all?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” For some reason this innocuous question irritates me.

  Do I have an appointment to see my own husband?

  Is this a sign of my future? Having to beg for allotted minutes of time just to see him.

  “No, I don’t,” I reply sharper than intended. The woman looks quite crestfallen at my harsh tone, the smile drops off her face.

  Immediately I’m filled with a sense of guilt for speaking so harshly to someone who, at the end of the day, is only doing her job. I know from experience that people respond to you better if you treat them with kindness. If I carry on like I am, I suspect that this receptionist will not help me at all and I won’t get to see Alex today.

  I take a quick note of her name badge before addressing her again, “look, Melodie is it?” She nods, her mouth now in a grime line. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I offer. “I’ve had a hard, couple of days…no, make that a week and I just want to speak to Alex.”

  “You’re Mr. Thorson’s wife?” She queries slowly.

  “Yes.”

  She looks at me with sympathy for a moment before saying softly, “I can certainly check for you.” As she picks up the telephone to dial Alex’s extension I’m left wondering what he has told people, if strangers are looking at me in pity.

  “Yes,” I hear her say, “no, I’ll tell her.” Before replacing, the receiver and returning attention back to me. “I’m afraid Mr. Thorson has taken an early lunch break and has meetings all afternoon. Would you like me to book you an appointment?”

  The courage I’d had to come here leaves, I can feel the tears forming in my eyes so I shake my head and turn towards the elevators to make a hasty retreat. I half expect that he’s told her to tell me that so I’ll just go away and he doesn’t have to see me.

  “Mrs. Thorson? Are you okay?” Melodie calls out in concern.

  I force a smile on my face and turn to back to face her ready to lie through my teeth that, yes, everything is okay. She looks at me with such compassion that I feel my face crumple and the tears start to flow. The next thing I know is that I’m being guided to onto one of the large leather couches. A drink of water is being placed in one hand, some tissues in the others. Melodie sits next to me on the couch and places her arm around me as I try to stop the flow of years.

  “Take a few deep breaths.” She says softly.

  “I’m…sorry. I don’t…I…”

  “It’s okay.” She says with surprising tenderness as I sit and sob until no more tears come.

  It’s not lost on me that a total stranger has me more compassion in the last twenty minutes than my husband has in the last seven months or so.

  “How are you now?” Melodie asks when I eventually calm down enough to take a large gulp of water.

  “I’m okay.” I lie.

  “Do you need me to call someone?” She’s being so kind that I am in danger of bursting into floods of tears again.

  “No, no I really should be going.” I move to stand up before a wave of dizziness hits me, forcing me back down again. “I shouldn’t keep you for your job.”

  “Oh Lord! Don’t you worry about that!” She exclaims, all semblance of professionalism going out the window, “you need me more than those stuffy old suits do.”

  “Won’t you get fired?” The last thing I want to do is to be responsible for her losing her job.

  Her face lights up with a beaming smile before she leans forward and whispers conspiratorially “They can’t fire the boss’s daughter.”

  My eyes widen in shock as she laughs and holds out her hand for me to shake, before formally introducing herself, “Melodie Bromley.”

  “Summer. Summer Thorson.”

  “I thought it was you when you walked in. It’s lovely to meet you again, Summer.”

  “Again?”

  “I must have made a real impression on you.” She looks upset for a moment before her mouth breaks out into an impish smile.

  “We’ve met before?”

  “At the family picnic a few months back,” she confirms. “We spent some time talking about my vacation.”

  “You said that London was the favorite part of your holiday!” I smile as recognition finally sparks in my brain. I remember talking to her at length about her time in Europe and our mutual love of travel, while Alex had gone off somewhere to get me a beer. I seem to remember joking with her on his return about having to send out a search partly after he
was gone for the best part of an hour. “Have you been anywhere else recently?” My disappointment at not seeing Alex temporarily forgotten.

  “No, unfortunately.” She sighs. “My tour of Europe was my last big trip before I started work here. “

  “Oh?”

  “The short story is that my father wants me to take over from him one day. So here I am!”

  “As a receptionist?”

  “Dad wants me to learn every aspect of the job starting from the bottom up. He thinks that it’ll help me to value the company more when I take his place.” Melodie says with a shrug.

  I take a few moments to observe the young woman sat next to me, feeling a pang of regret as I think back to how I used to be like her once. She’s funny, irreverent and focused. I realize that somewhere along the way I’ve lost that. Maybe that was why Alex has left me because I’d lost sight of who I am.

  “Look, I hope you don’t think I’m speaking out of turn,” She says softly, her expression sincere, “I was sorry to hear about you and Alex.” Her words bring me back to reality with the painful reminder that my husband has left me. Clearly he has told people that we have split-up and if he is doing that then does that mean he’s not coming back? Before I can open my mouth to question over Melodie what Alex has been saying, she sighs and continues, “I was so surprised, he’d only told me the other week how much you’d had such a lovely time Maui together.” Causing me to furrow my brow.

  Maui? Why would she say we we’ve been to Maui?

  Melodie stops when she sees the confused look on my face. “Are you okay, Summer? You’ve gone a bit pale.”

  “We didn’t go to Maui.” I tell her distractedly. “We booked but Alex had to go to conference so we didn’t go, he gave the tickets to someone else.”

  “Maybe I got it wrong.”

  My mind whirls in confusion as I try to understand why Alex would tell people we went to Maui, when we hadn’t. I begin to feel light headed again; a buzzing noise in my ears muffles all sounds. I vaguely hear Melodie say something to me as I attempt to stand up, my legs are shaking and I can’t make them move.

  Maui. The beach. Profile. Facebook.

  The world around me moves in slow motion as my brain reluctantly starts to piece together all the clues that I had, until then, been ignoring.

  It is only the shrill sound of the telephone on the reception desk that brings me back to earth.

  “Summer? Summer are you feeling alright?” Melodie asks.

  “I have to go.” I say in a rush, as I grab my handbag, somehow willing my legs to move as flee towards the elevator. All the time my mind is reeling that Alex has lied to me.

  He went to Maui…he went to fucking Maui and he took someone else.

  The journey to the ground floor seems to take forever. I pace the small space in the elevator like a caged tiger. I desperately want to get back to the apartment; some sixth sense is telling me that I have to check Alex’s profile picture again. I hadn’t looked at it since last week. In fact, I hadn’t used Violets login details yet and stupidly I’d left the password at home. Despite my bravado, I hadn’t done anymore digging into Alex’s life. I was…I am… scared of what I might find. Sticking my head in the sand isn’t an option to me anymore.

  The doors to the elevator open with a ding and I rush through the atrium towards the exit and the nearest BART station.

  A flash of red on the opposite side of the street catches my eye as I leave the building. Looking over toward the small park, I see the couple, who’d been fooling around earlier, are preparing to leave and head back to their lives.

  I have never felt more envious of anyone than I do of this pair of strangers right now. While they’ve been happily fooling around together with not a care in the world, my life has totally and utterly fallen apart.

  Despite my urgent need to flee, my feet stay rooted to the sidewalk. I can’t bring myself to look away as the woman in red straightens her shirt while smacking the man’s hand away as he tries grope her arse. I will them turn round and look in my direction so that I can see them clearly.

  A sadistic part of me wants see their happiness; to be reminded what love is.

  Maybe when I look back on this day in years to come, I‘ll remember that I didn’t just feel despair, I felt hope for the future that love still exists.

  Just as I decide that I’m a glutton for punishment and that I really should to continue my flight to safety instead of staring at strangers; the man grabs the woman by the hand and pulls her in for one last kiss before they both start to head in my direction with their fingers entwined.

  Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’? You see, I always thought it was just a stupid saying that the older members of my family liked to parrot whenever things didn’t quite work out. Like the time I’d begged and begged my parents for a pair of in-line skates when I was ten years old. I’d hounded my mum and dad for them every day for four months. I’d thrown an epic temper tantrum when Seth not only got a skateboard for his twelfth birthday but also a pair of the coveted skates from my Nan. I’d decided in my ten-year-old mind that everyone obviously loved my brother much more than me and had stomped off to my room. I didn’t speak to anyone for two days after that.

  Yet on my eleventh birthday three weeks later, even though I had been absolutely horrible to everyone around me, I was given my heart’s desire. Two hours later instead of enjoying my birthday cake I was sat with my mum in the Accident and Emergency department at our local hospital, nursing what turned out to be a broken arm. I’d decided to try my new skates out in our street, without telling my parents first. I’d also failed to wear any of the protective padding that had come with them and had promptly fallen awkwardly, ruining my birthday. I wished that I had never asked for the damn things.

  Right at this moment in time, I wish that I hadn’t been curious. That I hadn’t wanted to see the faces of the couple that had carried out such an enthusiastic display of their lust for everyone to see. Especially not when I find my staring at the familiar, handsome features of my husband.

  In that split-second my world stopped and the last, tiny thread of hope I have snaps in two.

  Alex. The man was Alex.

  I stare at them in wide-eyed, open-mouthed horror as they unknowingly make their way towards me.

  The man was Alex.

  I can’t breathe.

  It was Alex.

  I can’t move.

  It’s Alex.

  He leans down and gently kisses the bitch on the top of her head in the familiar way that he used to do with me.

  Alex.

  I can now see the woman in red’s features clearly and I recognize from her from the photo of us at the picnic.

  How could you?

  “Alex.”

  I only realize that I’ve said his name out loud when he looks in my direction and meets my gaze with a look of pure horror that probably mirrors my own. He immediately drops the whores hand and leans down to whisper something in her ear. She frowns at his words then looks straight at me, her gaze narrowed. If she felt any shame that she had been caught hand-in-hand with a married man by his wife, then she doesn’t show it. Instead, she turns her head to face Alex, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the mouth as if to mark her territory before sashaying towards the buildings entrance, smirking at me as she goes past.

  I’m so stunned as I watch her go that I don’t realize that Alex is now stood directly in front of me until it’s far too late.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Summer?” The harsh demand in his voice causes me to whip back round to face him. Without thinking, I raise my right hand and slap him, hard, across the face with a resounding smack, which causes several people to stop what they are doing and start watching the free show playing out in front of them. He steps back in shock, holding his hand to his reddening cheek, fury in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, I cut him off before he can say a word.

  “How long?” I
ask through clenched jaws, grateful that anger is spurring me on. I know that later I’ll succumb to the feeling of despair that is bubbling just beneath the surface but for now, I’m far too angry to let him see me cry.

  Alex doesn’t respond to my question instead he chooses to look away from me as the telltale flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck. How humiliating it must be for him to be confronted by his wife over another woman on this busy sidewalk, in this busy city, in the middle of the day in front of an increasingly growing audience.

  Serves him right.

  “How long, Alex?” I repeat trying and failing to keep my voice level. “How long has it been going on?” I hear the hitch in tone, my true feelings betraying me. I start to ask him the same question again determined to get my answer, when I suddenly feel a small stab of pain in my abdomen. It’s strong enough to make me wince and clutch my side before it disappears as quickly as it began.

  My movement must have caught Alex’s eye for he finally decides to look at me. We stand on that sidewalk just staring at one another, green eyes to brown, as other people rush past completely oblivious to catastrophic meltdown that is occurring in front of them.

  I can see the internal battle he is waging, the torment of different emotions fighting for control. Guilt, love, regret, hate; they’re all there behind his eyes and for those few brief moments the man in front of me is the man I married, the one who vowed to always love me. All too soon, his eyes turn hard and the shutters slam shut as I’m locked out in the cold again.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” He fumes.