by Gina Messina
When Lily answered the phone on the first ring, mind you, she had a deep raspy voice. It sounded almost as if her throat was chaffed from way too much cock.
“Is this Lily Love?” Charlie sweetly asked.
“Who is this?” she choked back, her voice filled with suspicion. Charlie laughed. No doubt Lily was used to receiving these kinds of calls.
“It’s Charlie.”
“I’m sorry…Charlie?” she asked in confusion. Charlie could tell she was trying to put two and two together.
“Did you like the lingerie?” she questioned nonchalantly. “Your tits look great in them, by the way.”
“I'm sorry, but I don’t know who this is or what you’re talking about,” she stammered back with rising panic in her voice. No doubt Lily thought she was being watched.
“Sure you do,” Charlie continued, “I’m Sean’s wife.” There was silence on the other end of the line. Charlie imagined Lily’s face, her mouth open and eyes wide in recognition, putting two and two together at the mention of Sean’s name. “If you ever see, or even think about my husband again,” she warned, “I’m going to fuck your life up so badly, the only movie you’ll be starring in will be shot on Mars not Manhattan.” Charlie had felt like Glenn Close in that movie Fatal Attraction. All she needed was a bunny and a large pot of boiling water.
“Oh my God,” Lily finally squeaked out, “He didn’t say he was married.”
Of course he didn’t. He wanted to get laid.
“I had no idea!”
Of course you didn’t. You’re a ditzy blonde with the intelligence of a gnat.
“Sean told me he was a widow!”
Of course he did. He was looking for a mercy fuck.
“What an asshole,” Lily said bitterly. “This is just so tremendously sad. You poor, poor thing!” she blurted out in her raspy voice before adding, “I feel so very sorry for you!”
There was a brief pause and then a click. After she hung up, Charlie almost felt guilty for having threatened the girl. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her cell phone and telling herself that Lily actually sounded quite nice. Really nice! Not like the bitch she’d imagined her to be. Maybe she’s just as much of a victim as I am? she thought. Maybe that porn star is not the home wrecker that I think she is! She probably had a really hard life, so who can blame her? Maybe Lily is just a stupid, naive little fool and not a bitch at all!
Charlie did give Lily credit for cutting off all ties with Sean. Who knew that someone in the adult film industry could have such high moral standards? Charlie never told Sean about that call and as far as she knew, he never saw or smelled that twat again. It gave her great satisfaction to see the distress on his face during the following days when he was constantly checking his phone for text messages and voice mails. Apparently he wasn’t used to being the one who got snubbed. Charlie seriously considered sending Lily a ‘thank you’ note. She had managed to do something Charlie hadn’t been able to accomplish in all her years with Sean; bring him down a few pegs. She took profound pleasure in seeing the pain and bewildered confusion on his face. It gave her a new respect for porn stars in general and for Lily Love, in particular.
“But Sean didn’t stop with Lily, did he?” Dr. Harrison guessed.
“If anything could be fucked, he fucked it,” she heard herself say with her words trailing behind her in a humiliating way. “It’s a sheer miracle I haven’t contracted some god awful sexually transmitted disease! Like that chlamydia or that HPV virus that everyone is saying causes cervical cancer!” Suddenly, she realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the gynecologist and had a proper exam let alone a pap smear.
Charlie was sure that Dr. Harrison was going to say something. She hoped that she would say something. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached over to her desk, took out her prescription pad and wrote out a script for penicillin.
CHAPTER NINE
“I’ll do shoes for the lady who lunches,
but it would be, like, a really nasty lunch, talking about men.”
Unknown
“Charlie, you must realize that you sought something from Sean. Let’s try to be realistic; you didn’t stay in this wildly abusive and controlling relationship because of all the perks.”
Yes, that’s exactly why I stayed! she wanted to exclaim. Do you have any clue how incredible all those perks were?
“So tell me, what was it that kept you from leaving?” she questioned further with her lips pursed tightly together.
“I don’t fucking know,” Charlie answered at a loss for a better response. “It’s just that when times were good, they were so very good. Those were the times that made it almost worth it.”
“So far I haven’t heard anything I would classify as good, Charlie. Go ahead then, tell me one worthy thing.”
Charlie was confused and thought, does she not see the shoes I’m wearing right now? She sat there, strumming her fingers on her ample thigh. “One worthy thing?” she repeated several times with her eyes cast up to the ceiling.
“I only ask for one, unless you can think of more,” Dr. Harrison sardonically replied.
“That’s a tough one; let me think on it for a minute longer.” It took more than five torturous minutes before she finally shouted out, “I’ve got one!”
“Really? I can’t wait to hear.”
“Well, I do remember when we were looking for our co-op just after we’d gotten engaged.”
“And that was a good memory?”
“Yes. It was the most incredible day,” Charlie answered with a lilt to her voice as the thought of that exceptionally exciting summer afternoon flashed brightly, then quickly faded before she could take comfort in the memory.
“This is the most prestigious building on the block,” their real estate agent, Libby, had shrewdly advised them when they entered the pre-war building to tour the spacious seven room flat; an apartment with sweeping views of Central Park South and of Bergdorf Goodman’s. The first thing Charlie had noticed was the uniformed doorman who was perched behind a dark mahogany reception area. No more trekking to the post office to pick up my mail order packages, she gratefully anticipated.
To Charlie, that had been a sign that she’d finally made it!
When they entered the unit on the 14th floor, she could barely mask her awe at the impressive wrap around terrace with a southern exposure that was flooded with sunlight. Dozens of ornamental plants in large terra cotta pots were scattered about and a tiny wrought iron pergola for dining al fresco sat in the far corner. Charlie could practically taste the intimate dinners they would soon be sharing under the stars and the morning coffee they would soon be enjoying while she read the fashion section of the New York Times and Sean scanned the financial pages from top to bottom. The large open kitchen was perfectly updated with stainless steel appliances (although she didn’t cook and very much doubted she would ever need to) and incorporated a small breakfast nook that could easily seat four (enough for the two children she planned on having with conveniently scheduled C-sections). Charlie could hardly contain herself when she wandered down the hallway toward the master bedroom, which turned out to be larger than her current apartment. A marble gas fireplace was centered on the far wall and glass French doors led to an intimate sitting area: perfect for snuggling and watching their favorite TV shows.
At the moment, they were both addicted to Miami Vice reruns. Therefore, the only time Charlie was sure she would see Sean within a reasonable hour was Thursday nights at nine when channel seventeen featured throwback Thursday and aired a marathon night of the popular show. They had a standing date with the television and with Mr. Chows’ Chicken Kung Pao which Sean would pick up on his way home from the office. Sean loved Mr. Chows food. Almost as much as he loved the way Crockett always wound up with the sexiest girl and Tubbs had to settle for his cast-offs. It was a deadly combination! Charlie could always count on Sean to ravage her just after he’d finished eating and the
credits were rolling. Sometimes he would insist that she call him Crockett while they were fucking.
Sean loved to role play during sex and he was a master at changing it up every time. So far, Charlie had been the unsuspecting French maid who needed her job, the college student burdened with student loans who needed an A plus, the horny cougar who needed a younger man while her husband was away on business trips, and the high-priced hooker who needed the money (Julia Roberts without the tacky boots, the wig and the forty-four inch legs). Charlie had played the role of so many different women she sometimes wondered if she wasn’t suffering from multiple personality disorder.
Just off the bedroom was a large Travertine bathroom with a real window, his and hers Travertine sinks and a luxurious steam shower that was so big that it bordered on ostentatious. She could tell Sean was impressed with the shower too, by the way he raised his eyebrows at her and let out a long whistle when he walked into the bathroom. She could only imagine the wet steamy sex that he would soon be demanding if they purchased the place. Charlie left him fantasizing by the glass shower door and hungrily raced to the bedroom to check out the walk-in closets. When she flung open the double doors she could see that there was more than adequate room for all of her shoes. She did a small dance of thanks to the shoe gods and laughed out loud.
“Sean, come look at the closet!” she squealed in delight.
Sean wandered over and checked them out in a disinterested way and then walked over to the bedroom window where he stopped and shielded his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. “What a view,” he said while squinting his eyes. His lips curled up into a smile, “We’ll be able to lie in bed at night and see the lights in the park!” Charlie didn’t bother to look at the sweeping million-dollar view. She was too busy staring into the closet and guestimating how much it would cost to have it customized.
Sean ran through the rest of the place like a little kid at an amusement park, opening doors and drawers and windows and then his mouth to sing out, “This is it, this is the one!” It was the first time Charlie had ever seen him truly excited-even more so than the night he’d proposed to her. She didn’t question it because when Sean was happy, the whole world seemed like a glorious place to live. His excitement was patently contagious. When they got back to her apartment they spent the rest of the evening lounging in bed, happily planning their lives together.
Sex that night was so very noble. They fucked like they’d never fucked before! It was limitless, much like their future together. They didn’t need to pretend to be anyone else in bed that night. It was enough to be just Charlie and Sean. The next morning they got up early and met their real estate agent at her midtown office and put in an offer that exceeded the asking price. Sean didn’t want to risk having his dream home snatched away by some insanely annoying yuppie couple with a healthy trust fund backing them up. That very night their generous offer was accepted.
“Libby, our real estate agent, had confided in us that the current owners were going through a nasty divorce,” Charlie told Dr. Harrison. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
Dr. Harrison shrugged.
“Do you think it was a sign?”
“If you mean do I believe in a predestined event then the answer is no.”
Charlie rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. “Of course you don’t. This isn’t my first rodeo you know. I get it. You shrink’s all believe we’re responsible for our own destiny.”
“Something like that.”
“Well that’s complete bullshit,” Charlie spat out in anger. “I had no fucking control over who Sean slept with…the only way I could’ve stopped him would have been by cutting off his dick, like that crazy bitch Lorena Bobbitt did.”
Dr. Harrison didn’t react to her words. She remained stoic and unflinching, her posture as straight as an arrow while she waited for Charlie to continue.
“Is that what you mean about creating my own destiny?” Charlie was mocking her now, trying desperately to get a rise out of her psychiatrist-any kind of reaction. “I should have cut it off, you know. Then I wouldn’t have to be sitting here being interrogated by you!”
Ignoring her tantrum, Dr. Harrison instead asked, “So the couple you bought the apartment from were in the middle of a divorce?”
“Divorce,” Libby had melodramatically mouthed as if the walls of the apartment had tiny ears of their own. “A big shot Wall Street broker. His second wife caught him in bed with his head between the legs of their Spanish au pair!” she disclosed to them in a hushed tone while putting one very nicely manicured finger to her lips in a gesture of secrecy. Charlie had to laugh. Sean would certainly be adding that scenario to the list of their fantasy role-plays. I should brush up on my Spanish, she thought as she imagined herself screaming, ‘Ah Dios!’ at the top of her lungs while telling him how naughty the children had been that day.
“You can probably steal this place!” Libby asserted with the confidence of a top sales associate who knew all the pertinent gossip that had anything to do with successfully closing a deal.
“I wonder if I know him?” Sean muttered under his breath with a searching look in his eyes. “Libby, do you know which firm he works for?”
The notion never once crossed Charlie’s mind that Sean would one day walk out on her. And not for a cute little Spanish au pair, but for a bulimic Columbia grad student that he’d impregnated (most likely on that very kitchen floor) and who spent most of her free time on her knees with her head over the toilet, jamming her bony fingers down her throat. It had been a fucking sign! No matter what Dr. Harrison thought. Charlie just hadn’t had the good sense to listen to her instincts.
“I was so damn optimistic!” she exclaimed with an inflection to her voice that almost made her sound more desperate than she was-which was truly hard to believe.
“Charlie, most couples start their marriage off thinking that the relationship will last forever. It’s normal, actually,” she explained. “I know that you feel like a failure but your marriage was over before it even started.”
It was the only time that Charlie ever heard her doctor insinuate that she was normal. She took a few minutes to consider what she’d just heard then asked, “Do you think I’m fucked up?”
“No,” Dr. Harrison answered, a little too quickly. “I think Sean is the one who has issues and you are essentially a casualty of his own sickness.”
“No kidding?”
“We both know that Sean’s a narcissist. But he is who he is. And, you need to understand that he will never be anything else. Never! The only person he’ll ever love is himself. But, you Charlie, you still have a chance to save yourself and move on.”
She heard what her doctor was trying to say but it didn’t make much of a difference. She knew she was fucked up, was certain of it. As certain as she was of that walk-in closet.
Later that afternoon Charlie took a walk with Layla to the new French bakery that had just opened up on Lexington Avenue. Everyone who was anyone had been raving about their freshly baked crusty baguettes and handmade buttery croissants. The line literally wrapped around the block. As much as she hated to wait in line for anything other than shoes, she stood holding her daughter’s hand and nudging her forward every few minutes until it was their turn to order. They were waiting at the crowded counter for their order to be ready when out of nowhere, a wave of extreme nausea instantly overcame her. It was like an uncomfortable Déjà Vu moment, which seemed perfectly fitting because they were in a French bakery, after all.
Charlie found herself overwhelmed by the smell of yeast and salt. A briny, yeasty aroma. A familiar, distinct smell. It was the smell of Sean’s fingers when he came home after having been out all night long. Those nights when she called him repeatedly on his cell phone but it went directly to voice mail. It was the smell of Charlie’s crotch. Only it wasn’t hers, it was somebody else’s pussy that fragrantly lingered on Sean’s fingers when he climbed into bed in the early morning hours. It was the briny, salty scent of the Bel
uga caviar that exploded on her tongue the night David had fucked her after he slowly fed her the wine.
“Madame? Excusez-moi, Madame! Hey lady!” she finally heard, “Your order is up.”
She felt Layla tugging on the sleeve of her jacket and snapped back to reality. “Mom, what’s wrong?” she whimpered in her little girl voice with her round eyes even rounder still.
Charlie shook the eerie fog from her head and patted her daughter on the head then reached into the brown paper bag and handed her a flaky chocolate croissant that was still warm and steamy from the oven.
“It’s the fucking French and their yeasty bread,” she stammered under her breath while remembering how her mother had screamed at her father, “Did you buy your Parisian whore a pair of Chanel shoes, too?”
The goddamn French! They were just so sexy and sultry; every last one of them!
On their way home from the bakery they stopped at the neighborhood park so Layla could play with some of her friends. Charlie was happy for the distraction. Her mind was a million miles away, over an ocean, to another time in her life. She sat in the shade on a wooden bench, while Layla scampered to the swings and she fondly remembered Francois. She suddenly chuckled out loud at the way-back-when memory of her former French boyfriend. A few of the other moms looked at her oddly and stared, but she didn’t really give one hoot about them because she was too busy reminiscing about him!
The next afternoon during lunch, Layla carefully picked off the salami and cheese from her sandwich and cast the crusty baguette to the side of her plate.
“Didn’t you like the bread, sweetie?” Charlie asked while she was bringing the dishes from the dining nook to the kitchen sink.
