Four Letter Word

by J. Daniels

  “You don’t know,” was all he replied, and he said it firmly. Resolutely.

  “What?”

  “You. Don’t. Know.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked.

  “I’m saying, the reason I’m pissed isn’t because I was sent a photo of a gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl, and I wasn’t liking what I was looking at. That ain’t it. You’re beautiful, Syd. Knew it before I saw the photo and that opinion damn sure hasn’t changed now that I have seen it. If anything, it’s become more solid.”

  My stomach wasn’t lurching and twisting anymore. Those pesky little butterflies were back, enjoying their favorite flip and twist.

  My gorgeous girl.

  Oh, wow.

  Brian totally just called me his girl.

  And he thinks I’m gorgeous!

  I wet my lips, careful of my color.

  “Okay,” I replied gently.

  “What I am pissed about is the fact you sent that photo to me.”

  I cocked my head in the mirror.

  I was officially confused.

  He liked the photo, thought I was gorgeous in it, but he was mad I sent it to him?

  Why would he be mad? He liked it.

  “You lost me there,” I admitted. “Why are you pissed again?”

  “You ever meet me, Wild?”

  “Um, in person? Or—”

  “Yeah, in fucking person, you know, to verify I’m not some psycho looking to find out where you live so I can kidnap you and do all kinds of messed-up shit, ’cause there’s people out there in this world who are like that, babe, and sending your photo to a guy you’ve never physically met is probably the dumbest fucking move ever. You don’t know me.”

  Okay, that hurt. I didn’t think it was a dumb move.

  And he was wrong.

  Next to Tori, Brian had become the most important person in my life. We spoke daily, sometimes multiple times a day, for hours and hours.

  I knew him.

  “You’re not a psycho, Brian,” I said, stepping back and waiting until I felt cotton comforter against my legs before I sat down on the bed. “And I do know you.”

  “No, you don’t,” he argued, his voice rising. “You don’t know me, Syd. You’ll never fucking know me. I’m a voice to you. That’s it. I could be anybody.”

  “No you couldn’t!”

  My own voice shook now. I could feel the tears threatening, I was so angry and confused.

  Why was he saying this?

  “You’re not anybody, Brian. You’re you. I sent that photo to you, not just anybody. We’ve talked every day for the past month.”

  “And that’s all we’re ever gonna do, don’t you get that?”

  “Why?” I practically shouted, grateful for the closed door. “Why is that all? Why should that be all? Is it, do you think I won’t like how you look? Is that it? Because I would. I know I would.”

  “Christ,” he groaned. “That is the farthest thing from it, okay? I’m not worried about that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I was becoming agitated now. He wasn’t the only one getting pissy and ruining the mood.

  “What is it, Brian?” I pressed, teeth clenched.

  “I don’t want to know you! I can’t, all right?”

  Breath pulled from my lungs as if someone were sucking it straight out of me.

  I blinked at a knob on my dresser, body stilled. Deadened.

  He didn’t want to know me.

  God…that hurt.

  Worse than Marcus pulling away. How was that possible?

  My head snapped right when Tori knocked sharply on the door.

  “You ready?” she called from behind it.

  “Fuck, Wild,” Brian breathed in my ear, heavy and sad sounding. “I didn’t mean it like that. Okay? That’s not—”

  “I’m done talking to you right now,” I cut him off and stood, walking over to my shoes and stepping into them. “I need to finish getting ready for the Lady Gaga concert, and Tori is ready so I need to finish now. You don’t want the picture I sent? Delete it. Problem solved.”

  I bent down and slid the straps behind my heels.

  He was being a total jerk. I didn’t like it one bit.

  Tori knocked again.

  “Hon? Time to go.”

  I gathered my purse and studded cuff off the bed and gripped the phone tightly.

  “Good-bye, Brian,” I said curtly.

  “Syd…”

  I disconnected the call and switched my phone to vibrate mode, already feeling it shudder to life inside the confines of my purse when I took the steps to open the door and got a look at my best friend.

  She wore a black sleeveless leotard with fishnets and combat boots. And she was rocking that red lipstick like a pro.

  Totally fierce.

  “All good?” Tori asked, stepping back so I could move into the hallway.

  I hid my bleeding heart behind a smile, nodded, then took her hand.

  “All great.”

  * * *

  The concert was amazing, jam-packed and theatrical.

  It was also incredibly distracting.

  I stopped thinking about my conversation with Brian five minutes in and danced without a care between sweaty bodies, screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs with my hands raised and my head thrown back.

  I seriously needed to send Mr. Rivera a gift basket or something.

  Most fun I’d ever had in a little black dress.

  We were floor level, standing room only, so when a slower song cut on halfway through the show, Tori and I leaned into each other, arms wrapped around hips and bodies angled, supporting weight.

  It was the start of the second verse when I felt the vibration at my thigh from where my purse dangled off my shoulder.

  I debated not looking for the whole second it took me to pull out the phone and check the screen, expecting another message or missed call from Brian, he had racked up four in total, but seeing Joyce’s name flashing rhythmically instead.

  She was an old co-worker of mine at my job back in Raleigh. Nice woman. Baked the best cherry-almond cookies at Christmastime.

  It was strange she was calling me, though. Maybe something terrible had happened to someone I used to work with.

  God, I hoped not.

  I slid out of Tori’s hold, motioned to her I needed to take a call, then pressed Answer but didn’t speak into the phone until I pushed through the crowd and made it up the stairs, past security at the fence and onto the gravel parking lot surrounding the outdoor arena, where the chances of hearing her seemed most promising.

  “Hey, Joyce,” I finally greeted her, feeling the pop of gravel beneath my feet as I meandered aimlessly.

  “Hey, sweetie. Um…look, this might not be any of my business, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up. You know, woman to woman. This was a bitch move if you asked me.”

  “Okay,” I chuckled, ignorant to where this conversation was headed.

  She pushed out a breath.

  “I saw Marcus picking up Christine after her shift.”

  Christine was another one of my former co-workers, though we never officially worked together. I was day shift. She was night.

  The most communication we’d shared was a friendly smile at the time clock during shift change.

  Still…

  “What?” I stopped meandering aimlessly. “When?”

  “This morning. Wanted to call you sooner but I was running late and we’ve been slammed thanks to a ten-car pileup. I spotted his truck at the emergency entrance when I was parking, thought maybe you were back and things with him were patched over, gotta admit, that excited me. Between you and me, this place is now seriously lacking in decent techs, but then I saw Christine getting into the passenger’s seat and she was doing it smiling. He leaned over and kissed her before taking off. I saw it.”

  I started breathing differently, quick bursts of air escaping as I locked my knees and focused on remaining upright.


  “What a shit, right?” Joyce asked. “Her and him. You don’t dip into your ex’s company ink. That’s just low.”

  “He’s…do you know how long they’ve been seeing each other?” I asked, but in my heart I knew the answer to that question already.

  It was his reason. Why he wanted out.

  Marcus had an affair.

  “I don’t know, sweetie. You know I don’t talk to her since we’re on opposite shifts. This could’ve been going on for years for all I know.” She paused, then quietly added, “I’m sure it wasn’t that long.”

  I was going to puke all over Tori’s designer dress.

  Years?

  “I have to go,” I told her, speaking fast, my legs carrying me somewhere, I had no idea where, it felt directionless. I just needed to move. “Thank you for calling me, Joyce. I appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing, Syd. You know I got your back.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  I hung up the call and scrolled through my contacts until I landed on the most deceitful name in the English language, didn’t hesitate to dial even though I wasn’t entirely sure I was strong enough to handle this conversation right now, but found the strength I needed in my anger and homed in on that as I pressed the phone to my ear and paced at the front of the darkened lot.

  “You finally broke,” Marcus answered after two rings, sounding all too pleased with himself. “Took you long enough, Syd. Jesus.”

  “What the fuck, Marcus!” I shrieked, uncaring of any audience I might have.

  He was silent for a moment, then under his breath, I heard him mumble, “You know.”

  I felt his teeth tear into my heart and rip it open.

  Pain replaced rage. Tears for temper.

  “Joyce called me,” I said brokenly with wet eyes. “She saw you two this morning, saw you kiss her. God, Marcus, you are such an asshole. It had to be someone I knew? Someone I worked with?”

  “Hey, I didn’t do shit with her until I ended things with you so get off my ass. I did right by you.”

  “You did right by me?” The hand at my side curled into a fist. “How? You cheated!”

  “No, I fucking didn’t!” he growled. “I waited, Syd. Saw Christine a few months back when I was visiting my mom after her surgery, Christine just happened to be doing an x-ray on her, got to talking a little and, yeah, I may have flirted but I didn’t touch her until after you left. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Oh, you’re such a decent guy, Marcus,” I snapped. “You still looked at her.”

  “I had to look at her. She was working on my mom.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  “Don’t give me a fucking attitude like everything was perfect between us. You know it wasn’t. We were drifting, Syd. We barely spoke anymore and we sure as hell weren’t fucking. Things weren’t good. The time we were spending together we spent bickering over bullshit. Christ, come on,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t fun anymore. You know it wasn’t. Neither one of us was happy. So when a pretty girl showed me attention after I’d gone months without getting it from my own wife, I noticed, and I gave her that same attention back. It felt good.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I whispered. “You’re saying this was my fault?”

  “I’m saying I wasn’t happy. You weren’t either,” he stated indifferently. “Found someone who could make me happy and I’m not about denying myself when shit at home wasn’t worth being miserable over. We were done.”

  “We could’ve worked things out,” I murmured, then blinked and sent the tears free-falling. “Fought for it.”

  “I was tired of fighting, Syd. So were you.”

  I closed my eyes.

  He was right. I couldn’t dispute it.

  I had been tired, mind and heart exhausted in my marriage. I wasn’t happy with the way things were but that didn’t mean I was considering a life without my husband. I wasn’t at that point a month ago.

  But he was. He’d been there for God knows how long.

  Reached that point and gone farther. He put it into motion.

  He wandered.

  “You weren’t supposed to see anyone but me, Marcus. You promised, in our vows, remember? Only me.” I inhaled through shattered breaths and spoke with tear-soaked lips as my eyes lost focus on a streetlamp. “But you looked at her. You looked at her when you were mine. How could you do that?”

  “You weren’t looking at me anymore,” he answered guiltlessly. “I was just the first one of us to realize there was somewhere else to look.”

  I swallowed down the sick creeping up my throat.

  This was cheating in my eyes, no matter how hard he disputed it. I knew how I felt and how much it hurt knowing the truth.

  Ten minutes ago I hated my husband for cutting me loose without an explanation.

  Now I hated him for not doing it sooner.

  “Got the papers for you to sign. I’ll put them in the mail tomorrow. Overnight them.”

  “You know where I am?” I asked, the backs of my fingers catching a tear.

  “Tori’s,” he replied. “Christine said she heard you moved to Dogwood.”

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Thanks a lot for checking up on me, by the way. Nice to know you cared enough to make sure I was all right after seven years.”

  “We weren’t happy together, Syd. Knew you’d be good once you got away. Same as me. I’m better now.”

  “Not gonna lie and say I’m glad to hear that, ’cause I’m not,” I huffed.

  “It’s better for both of us. You’ll see.”

  “Whatever. Send the papers. I’ll sign them, then I don’t ever want to hear from you or see your face again.”

  Marcus sighed. “This doesn’t need to get ugly, Sydney.”

  Seriously?

  Seriously…

  I sucked in a breath.

  “It got ugly the second you cheated on me, Marcus.”

  “I didn’t cheat,” he argued. “Lookin’ and flirtin’ ain’t cheating.”

  “You’re an idiot if you think that’s true, and honestly? I’m glad I’m not tied to you anymore if these were your beliefs all along. God knows how much lookin’ and flirtin’ you’ve been doing behind my back over the years.”

  “Never hurt you, did it?”

  My breath caught somewhere between my chest and my throat.

  He’d been looking and flirting. All these years, he’d been doing it.

  Oh, God…

  Hand cupping my mouth and body trembling, I listened as he continued on enlightening me of his ways.

  “Way it is, Syd. As long as it’s not taken a step further, nothing wrong with it.”

  Nothing wrong with it.

  Those were his thoughts, ones he never felt the need to share with me.

  This conversation was over.

  “Send the papers,” I whispered with fresh tears in my eyes, lowered the phone while hopefully disconnecting it—I couldn’t know for sure because I couldn’t see anything through my veil of watery suffering—pushed the device into my purse, and spun around on weak footing, moving with devastated purpose to get back under the pavilion and to my best friend before I collapsed right there in the middle of the parking lot.

  Tears were falling steadily now. My body jerking with each cry-filled breath I took.

  I could barely see.

  It was dark. My makeup was running and hindering my sight and I was moving faster than my heels safely allowed.

  I needed Tori.

  Between a blink and a sniffle, I slammed straight into a wall of a chest, large and unmoving, not seeing it come out of nowhere if it did or maybe I ran at it unintentionally when I could’ve avoided it, I had no way of knowing.

  I was dizzy with sadness. Pain and hurt and shock filled my veins and twisted my awareness.

  The man didn’t speak. I didn’t either, because I couldn’t.

  I fell, hand to mouth into him as his arms swallowed me up and h
is presence surrounded me then folded in, bringing me closer at the same time as I burrowed deeper and broke into a thousand tears.

  It wasn’t awkward. I didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

  Makeup smeared and saliva soaking. He didn’t seem to care.

  He held on.

  And I pressed closer.

  Marcus ate my heart, piece by hope-filled piece during a five-minute phone call.

  I couldn’t feel its beat anymore, and I was finding comfort in this stranger’s arms; his shape and smell and size became my security and safe place. I was taking what he gave and he was giving it selflessly, holding on as I held tighter, my one hand clutching his shirt as his soothed in slow movements up and down my spine.

  The harder I cried, the firmer his hold became.

  The more my body shook with sadness, the stronger he stood.

  I never saw his face. I never even looked up.

  I fell apart and he held me through it. Then I left him without uttering a word.

  * * *

  An hour later Tori and I were back at her place, even though the concert was still going strong and we both knew it wasn’t ending before midnight. It didn’t matter.

  She saw my face when I got back under the pavilion, heard what Marcus did from my lips pressed to her ear, and ended our night.

  Best friends knew when it was time to leave.

  I told her I just wanted to be alone, that I needed the quiet of my bedroom and the warmth of my bed, promising we’d talk about everything tomorrow.

  She agreed only after my promise, kissed my cheek, and cued up HBO after stretching out on the couch.

  Bedroom door closed and best friend occupied, I pulled my phone out of my purse and dialed Brian’s number.

  There were several things motivating what I was about to do, but one thing stood out and rippled awareness over and under my skin. I couldn’t ignore it.

  This was going to suck. Bad. There was no doubt in my mind. It was going to hurt, too.

  Really bad.

  But it had to be done.

  “Wild,” Brian answered gently.

  That was all I could take of his voice.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” I said, lip quivering.

  I heard his pull of breath and knew he was about to speak, protest, plea, and I couldn’t hear it so I kept going.