by Nikki Blythe
I was tired of this argument, too. And yet, just like that mole, it kept popping up, forcing me into a defensive position. A position in which Faith could leverage an emotional response which she would use later to excuse any of her actions.
Because nothing was ever her fault.
“You draw on people for a living, and you don’t even make enough to support the household without me having to work,” she retorted.
“That’s not true. I make enough to live on. You just want your luxuries, and I’m sorry, I’m not going to work in some stuffy office like Don Draper just so you can have your Prada handbags or whatever.”
“They’re Kate Spade,” she corrected, her voice rising. “Forgive me if I want a little bit more out of life than this shabby apartment and a pauper’s wages!”
I looked around. I actually really liked our apartment. It was large, with an open floor plan and two bedrooms. There was even a fireplace, which we never used. All in all, the apartment wasn’t something a person could sniff their nose at. In fact, when Faith and I decided to move in together only months after meeting, it was she who suggested we move into my place. I’d held a lease on this apartment since I moved to Highland Lakes seven years ago, and because the property was nice and the landlord fantastic, I saw no reason to move.
“That’s fine, Faith, but I have found my calling. I have found my passion, and I can make money doing it. Not many can say that,” I replied in as even a tone as I could muster.
It was important to keep this discussion from escalating. The last thing I needed was to have this devolve into a dangerous situation. If I was lucky, I could get Faith’s mood to do a one-eighty, and then leave for work unscathed. I glanced at the clock again. I really should have left minutes ago.
“Well, it’s shit,” she shot back. “My father says he can get you a job in his office making double what you make now, you just have to call him.”
“I’m not calling your father,” I glared.
“And why not?”
“Because he hates me, for one, and for another, I don’t want to work in a cubicle farm. I have a job. It’s a good one. I run my own business doing something that fills my creative needs. I won’t budge on this, Faith.” The warning was back in my voice.
Faith was silent for a long moment. She stared at me balefully from her armchair. Then she was suddenly on her feet. She snatched her briefcase from the bed next to me and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
I sat on the bed for another few minutes, my eyes closed as I took several deep breaths. I reflected on the beginning of our relationship. Faith had always been spoiled, having grown up with wealthy parents. She was always a handful, and initially I loved that about her. She kept me on my toes, challenged me in ways that I couldn’t explain.
After about a year, though, her behavior became more controlling. I lost friends, especially any that were women, because she would get jealous. The only friend I had remaining to me was Levi, and he absolutely despised Faith. Every chance he got, he would tell me I needed to leave her.
With Levi on my mind, I remembered that I needed to leave for work. I stood and walked across the bedroom to the bathroom. I finished getting ready and walked out of the bedroom door. The door jamb was splintered from the constant slamming that came from Faith’s temper. I sighed. I would need to repair that if I wanted to get my deposit back.
I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and a large object passed my head on the left. I stopped in my tracks as a vase shattered against the wall behind me. Small ceramic shards ricocheted and hit me in the back. I hardly noticed them as my muscles were so tense that I couldn’t even move.
Across the living room stood a red-faced Faith. Her hands crossed her chest and her nostrils flared as she breathed heavily.
“You don’t love me at all!” She shrieked.
I couldn’t refute the notion, as I was realizing that I probably didn’t. There was love for her in my heart, I supposed, but it was of the variety that I would be sad if she passed away. I certainly didn’t want a relationship with her any longer than was absolutely necessary. I just had to find a way to get away.
“Faith, stop this,” I said. My voice was low, measured. I just wanted to leave the apartment unscathed.
“Stop what?” Her voice was shrill, the high pitch reverberating within my ears.
A sharp pain struck my temples.
“You’re upset, I understand that, but I need to get to work,” I said in an attempt to placate her. I glanced at the clock again.
“You don’t understand,” Faith wailed.
I had to admit, I genuinely couldn’t understand why she was so upset. I had long ago given up trying to figure out her moods, and instead just rode them like the wild waves they were. Sometimes, I would get pulled under and nearly drown in the swells, but most of the time, they carried me safely to shore.
I remained silent, thinking that if I said anything it would only make matters worse. Wrong move.
“You can’t even say anything to me?” She cried. “All I want is for us to have good jobs, a good home, and to one day live in a lovely house in the suburbs so we can have kids. It seems like all you want to do is drag us down with that failing business of yours! All you seem to care about is having some creative outlet!
“Tell me, Neville, how do you think your creativity will feed our future children? Hmm? Children can’t eat art!” She picked up another vase from the fireplace mantle and tossed it.
I dodged it easily and wondered in the back of my mind why we ever bought vases in the first place. She had crashed dozens of them on the walls, to the extent that there were small scraps in the wallpaper. Again, another thing I would have to repair if I wanted my deposit back.
“Failing business? Faith, the parlor brings in a lot of money for this house,” I said, aghast.
It was true, the first year had been slow, but after Levi and I hired some social media guru, business had picked up considerably.
“Besides, we won’t be having children any time soon, and especially not while our relationship is in such a terrible state. Having children doesn’t fix a broken relationship.”
“Broken relationship?” She wailed, the tears coming quickly now. “You think we’re broken?”
Throwing caution to the wind, I said simply, “I do.”
Faith glared at me, and I decided it wasn’t worth continuing this argument.
“I have to go to work, I’ll see you in the morning,” I said.
I rushed out the front door and sped down the hallway towards the elevator as fast as I could without actually running. My heart raced, and my fingers tingled with latent numbness.
How could she have that effect on me?
I shuddered as I turned in the elevator to see her standing in the hallway just outside our apartment. Her hands were on her hips, and she glared heartily as the elevator doors closed with a hiss. I knew I would pay dearly for leaving her mid-discussion, but I also knew that if I had stayed for the rest of that discussion, it might only have ended in violence.
I took several deep breaths to steady myself before the elevator reached the first floor. It was a quick trip, only about thirty seconds to go from the fifth floor where my apartment was, to the ground floor.
I stepped out into the lobby and nodded to the doorman as I stepped outside. He tipped his hat in greeting before turning his attention to another resident as they walked into the lobby carrying two heavy suitcases.
The evening sun warmed my face, and I was more grateful than ever that spring had arrived. The tattoo parlor was only just around the corner, and I always walked to work. During the winter months, that was less than desirable, but for the rest of the year, the walk to work was my favorite part of every day.
The parlor was on the opposite side of the intersection from my apartment building, diagonal to where I stood next to the crosswalk light. I hit the button and waited, thinking over the events of the past half
hour.
I would have talked to Levi about what happened, but I couldn’t risk him not listening to what I had to say in favor of reminding me how much I needed to leave Faith. I knew I needed to leave. But getting out was seemingly a Herculean task. I wondered idly if there was a way to get her to leave me, but nothing came to mind. It seemed that nothing I did made her angry enough to leave, only enough to rage and commit weird acts of violence.
It especially concerned me that she continued to talk about having children.
I didn’t want children with her, and I’d been very clear that I didn’t want children any time soon. She didn’t care though. She brought up my lack of paternal desire often enough that I knew she was trying to guilt me into making a decision I would regret.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be a father. It’s that I didn’t want to become a father with her. Imagining a life of coparenting with her made my stomach hurt.
I shook the thought from my mind as I crossed the street.
Just as I was about to turn the corner and head into the parlor, I had a sudden craving for coffee. I wasn’t feeling particularly tired or anything, but I just felt like I needed that kick to get me through the rest of the night. Our parlor was open all night, so it was important to keep my energy up.
Faith wouldn’t be happy that I spent the money, but I considered this my own small form of rebellion. I glanced at the time on my phone and groaned. I should have been at work half an hour before.
“Fuck,” I whispered as I resolved to grab coffee in the morning after I closed up the parlor.
Who was I to deny such a rebellious craving?
Chapter Two
Cedar
“Freckles!” I giggled groggily as I pushed the large tabby off of my chest.
He was licking the tip of my nose with his rough tongue, forcing me to wake up rather uncomfortably. His breath smelled ominously like he’d been in the garbage can.
I pulled myself into a sitting position and Freckles rolled into my lap. He was so enormous he took up most of the space between my thighs. His size never ceased to surprise me.
I stretched, and Freckles leaped off my bed, heading towards the kitchen, pleased his work was done.
My phone buzzed on my nightstand and I leaned over to peak at my notifications. There were three missed called from my assistant Bethany, which made my blood run cold.
I glanced at the time and panicked, seeing that I only had about an hour to ready myself for work.
Sure, I owned my own yoga studio, but I still had to make it to work on time. I had to go in early, too, because there was some tax paperwork that I needed to do. I procrastinated that far too long. Taxes were due in just over two weeks. Unfortunately, I’d have to put off most of the work, or have Bethany take care of some of it, because my first class of the day started in an hour.
I ran to the bathroom to assess the state of my appearance and was horrified to find that my hair was in a state of disarray the likes of which even a wet comb couldn’t fix.
I threw my unruly hair into a messy bun and threw on my cute form-fitting yoga pants and a nice t-shirt.
It was as I was on my way out the door, with my phone, wallet, keys, and handbag, that I realized I hadn’t fed Freckles.
Fearing whatever kitty retribution he could summon, I ran back into the kitchen to pop a can of food into his bowl. He yowled with what I sincerely hoped was gratitude, and I finally made my way out the door of my apartment.
I lived on a quiet street near downtown Highland Lakes. My apartment door opened right onto the street, and I was struck with the rays of the early morning sun.
Normally I love the warmth and energy the sun provides, but as I was staring and yet another impediment to my day, I rather disliked everything.
My car, parked on the street almost directly in front of my door, was off-kilter, owing to the fact that one of the tires was flat. Not just low on air, no, entirely flat. I stared in fury at the rim of the wheel sitting almost directly on the pavement.
“Fuck!” I yelled.
I kicked the flat tire on my car and cursed my luck.
I ran my hand over my messy hair, the byproduct of my earlier bad luck. I pulled my blonde hair out of the elastic, and remade my bun, purely because I needed something to do with my hands while I thought. I must have fallen asleep while it was still wet, and of course I woke up with it kinky in the worst way, so it barely wanted to go back into the bun.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed my friend Elizabeth. She was absolutely the one to call when you needed a sympathetic ear.
She picked up on the second ring. “Hey, girl!” Her soft voice immediately calmed my nerves.
“Today sucks,” I whined.
“Oh no! What’s going on?” She asked, as sympathetic as I imagined she would be.
“I just walked out to find my car has a flat tire. Are you already at work, or can I hitch a ride with you to the studio?”
“Oh, Cedar!” Elizabeth cried. She continued with a tone full of remorse, “I’m so sorry, I went in early today. Do you have a class soon?”
“Not until seven,” I admitted. “It’s only 5:45 now. I guess I could just walk,” I grumbled.
“Just consider the walk your warmup before teaching yoga all day,” Elizabeth suggested helpfully.
She made an excellent point. If I wasn’t already in such a poor mood, I’d have thought about that on my own, but as it was, I wasn’t capable of doing much without a certain level of grumpiness.
Before I could respond with gratitude, Elizabeth gasped.
“Oh! Kyra’s calling, let me add her to the call.”
“Yeah, all right,” I replied, trying to sound bright.
“Hey, Kyra! I have Cedar on the line, too,” came Elizabeth’s voice.
“Ah! Cedar! How are you doing?” Kyra’s husky voiced asked.
“Fine, I guess. I woke up with my hair all in a tizzy, then I had a flat tire, and I don’t really have time to change it. I also don’t have a spare…” I trailed off.
“Oh, I figured today would go badly for you,” Kyra said sympathetically.
“What? Why?” I asked, suspicious.
I looked up and down the street as I stood next to my useless car. No taxis. I really would have to walk.
“Because it’s been one year since Garet-”
“Kyra!” Elizabeth chided. “We weren’t going to bring that up!”
“Why not?” I asked. “It happened. I can’t just ignore that. Besides, I hadn’t made that connection yet.”
Kyra hummed, then said, “Ivy is calling, let me add her in.”
It was often like that. One of us would get on the phone with another, and within minutes, all of us would be on the phone, chattering away.
“Hey girls!” Ivy said, her high-pitched voice causing me to pull my phone away from my ear for a moment.
We all responded, and I looked despondently at my car, pathetic as it was in such a state. I sighed, and double checked to make sure I had my house keys and my wallet in my purse.
I didn’t want to be stuck locked out of my house, not with everything else that had gone wrong that morning.
With a sigh as my friends talked over one another, I began the long walk to the studio.
I had just opened the studio right before the wedding-that-never-was, as the girls and I called it, and I threw myself into my business after the whole debacle was over with. I was making decent money now, but I had no time to take my car to the shop, or even go and get a manicure for the nails I had been neglecting.
I peered at my nails in distaste as I walked, then dropped my hand to the side, instead focusing on my surroundings.
The morning was chilly, though warmer than it had been in recent weeks. I tried to be positive about it all. The walk really wasn’t all that bad, especially since the weather was growing nicer, and the wisteria and hydrangea blooms outside of neighboring homes and businesses filled the space with color and f
ragrance. I was admiring the flowers when I heard my name, bringing me back to the conversation I had tuned out.
“What were y’all talking about?” Ivy asked.
“It’s the anniversary of the wedding, and Cedar is having a shit day,” Kyra said matter-of-factly.
“Aww, what’s the matter, Cedar?” Ivy asked.
I explained about my hair and the tire as I rounded the corner. The studio was about thirteen blocks from my apartment, and if I walked at a leisurely pace, which was probably best if I didn’t want to injure myself at work, I could make it in time to stop by my favorite coffee shop.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Elizabeth asked. “No one would blame you if you wanted to cancel all your classes for the day and hole up and wallow at home instead.”
“I’d blame me,” I retorted. “I don’t want to let him get to me anymore. He didn’t want to be a part of my life, he didn’t want me to be his wife, so why should I let him bother me? I won’t let him take up free rent in my mind.”
“Okay,” Kyra said, doubt evident in her tone. “Whatever you say. Just remember, if you need someone to bail you out, just shoot us a text!”
“Yeah, okay,” I responded reluctantly.
As my friends’ conversation turned back to more lighthearted matters, my mind wandered to one year before, when Gareth had left me at the altar. On the day, I had been furious. I was so upset, and I had to admit I wanted to hurt him. I probably came up with about a million scenarios in my head that would result in him losing his job, or his precious wedding planner, or his dignity. My favorite plan was laxatives in his coffee.
But alas, all of those ideas never came to fruition, for try as I might, I could never actually inflict harm on someone else, not on purpose anyway.
After the wedding had been cleared away and all gifts returned, I fell into a well of lost hope, and deep feelings of worthlessness. I decided I was done trying to find love, because it never ended well. It helped that the girls were all still single, too, even though we enjoyed going out and throwing men at each other.
I was broken from my reverie when I came up on the coffee shop. It was fairly packed, which wasn’t unusual. People bustled back and forth within the close walls. The small two-seater tables out front under the awning were all occupied with various pairs. I spotted some couples kissing over their chai lattes, and some suited men and woman discussing work details, I’d have wagered.
