27 Revelations

by Harlow Hayes

  I wasn’t going to interrupt so I grabbed my bag off the counter and headed towards the door, but when I took my first step something familiar caught my eye. It was only partially visible, hidden behind a chair in the living room, but there it was. That glittery fucking frog that dangled from Kate’s purse. The moaning continued but I tiptoed closer to get a better look. I kneeled down, unzipped it, and reached inside. I pulled out a wallet and there was her license. Fucking Katherine Warren with her perfect blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. I threw the wallet back into the bag and made my way towards the bedroom door, but just before I was about to barge in on them I stopped. I snatched my bag and dashed toward the door and hoped that my presence hadn’t been detected. I could feel my face tightening with anger. I held onto my bag with a death grip and I stormed out of the apartment and back to the train station.

  Frankie wanted to know why I wasn’t interested. That was why I wasn’t interested, and I found myself thinking I was happy that I never had his baby.

  * * *

  The apartment was empty when I got home, which was a good thing because there was no telling what I might have said or done if it wasn’t. I threw my bag across the living room and slammed the door behind me.

  “That bitch!” I screamed. It had to have been the night out at the bar. That was the night they must have decided to start their affair. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How long had it been going on? Who had started it? Why didn’t Frankie tell me? Yeah, why didn’t Frankie tell me? That fucker had never been shy about flaunting his sexual escapades but this time he didn’t say anything. Didn’t even express any type of interest in Kate from what I could tell.

  How could Frankie do this? Out of all the people, he picked Kate. I knew they were probably having a good time, too, talking about me, discussing my meltdown and my “poor judgment” about Niko. It needed to end. I picked up my phone to call Frankie but there was no answer. I threw the phone across the room and regretted it as soon as it left my hand. The screen shattered and I fell back onto the couch in defeat. How was I going to look at them again? Look at him again? How was I supposed to keep living with Kate, knowing what I knew? I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. Frankie was my friend, not hers, and now she knew him in the most intimate of ways. She knew him the way that I did, and it made my blood boil.

  It had been hours, and I spent them on the couch watching TV, waiting for Kate to walk through the door. Then the moment came and I heard the key turn and Kate walked in, her ugly purse hanging from her arm.

  “Hey, I didn’t expect you to be home,” she said, laying her keys on the counter. “I thought you had a meeting or something.”

  I stared at her.

  She looked at me, confused, and walked into the kitchen.

  “No, it was earlier,” I said. I diverted my attention back to the TV.

  “Well, did it go well?” she asked.

  “Well enough,” I said, trying not to give myself away. “What did you do today?”

  “The usual, worked out, studied for a bit, had lunch with Dad, but other than that it wasn’t eventful. You okay? You seem upset.”

  No, I’m not okay, you lying bitch. I was getting hot, so I pulled back the throw that covered me. Yes, I was upset. This cum bucket woke up this morning, fucked my best friend, then lied to my face about it. I saw how it was going to be. She was going to keep this to herself, so I devised a new approach. Cut this liar off and confront Frankie, and if he lied, it was going to be a problem. I was tired of being played, duped, lied about, and lied to.

  After she got what she needed from the kitchen, she came and sat on the sectional next to me.

  “So what are we watching?” she asked.

  I looked at her, then back at the TV, and curled back up under the cover and started writing. I sat the rest of the night silent to the external world but loud in my thoughts. Lie to me again, bitch. Lie to me again.

  September 10

  LIES

  The first life lesson I got as a child was “don’t lie.” I remember it being so easy, and I liked it. It made me feel like I knew something that others didn’t, and that made me feel important. When I grew up, I grew out of it and felt that there was never any reason to lie. If I had to lie to someone else about what I was or my intentions, I had to do some soul searching. I wasn’t just lying to other people but I was lying to myself, and lies hurt people. Lies rob people of their choices, and I was tired of people lying to me, and knowingly withholding information. I felt that my choices were being snatched away from me one after the other. Niko omitting his past, Kate lying about Frankie, Erin lying about me. Then there was me. The person with the most lies. I grew out of lying only to fall back into it. I rationalized them and made them acceptable, but I was doing the same thing. Robbing people of their choice to be in my life or not to be in my life, but the truth, I knew, would scare them away, and I wasn’t ready for that, not now. And it made me weak. It made me my father. It made me a hypocrite…

  HYPOCRISY

  I claim to be honest, but I’m not. I claim to not be judgmental, but I am. And I claim to be peaceful, but I am full of anger. I didn’t understand why I hated my father so much, and now I see that I hate him because everything that he is, I am. I didn’t wake up one morning and say, “I am going to be a liar. That is my destiny” or “I am going to be angry, that is my path in life.” So much of my behavior has been learned, and it is now my responsibility to unlearn it. How can I be so upset? Niko didn’t lead me on. Niko never showed interest, but my anger is his fault? Frankie owes me nothing, Kate owes me nothing but my pain is their fault? No, my pain is my own, and it is still there because I continue to dwell on it. I sit across from people daily and listen to their stories and I tell them to let it go, every last one. Let go of the pain, the blame, the anger and choose to start again, but on the inside I am clinging to the railing of my sinking ship, holding on for dear life.

  I am a hypocrite.

  Chapter 21

  “It’s one of the things I would say that I regretted.” Jennifer sat across from me, legs crossed.

  “What made it a regret?” I asked.

  “I love my husband, I always have, and I know that it was before we were married, but it stays with me. Sleeping with Rick was the worst thing I could have done. Exes are meant to stay in the past and I let my past catch up with me. It almost ruined our marriage before it even began.”

  I leaned back and rested my arm on the chair.

  “So your husband found out?” I asked.

  “No, I told him. I didn’t want to go into our marriage with me having that secret. I told him about the abortion, too.”

  This was new.

  “What abortion, Jennifer?”

  “Well, after my little tryst I got pregnant, but…” She turned and stared out of the window.

  “It’s okay, Jennifer, you don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

  “But I didn’t know if it was his or Rick’s.”

  “I see.”

  “I told him… I told him and he wanted me to keep it. My husband wanted me to keep what could have been another man’s baby, but I couldn’t do that to him.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I was the one that messed up and I couldn’t do that to him, let him raise a scumbag’s child. I didn’t even want to have children with him after that because I was a scumbag for cheating, and I didn’t want him to be cursed with scumbag children, and I didn’t want that scumbag Rick holding this child over my head, keeping me close to him. So I got rid of it. And my husband still loved me. He didn’t leave and he hasn’t left. He still loves me. But I believe that’s why my son is the way he is. Or at least, I feel that way. Because I took that child’s life. I love my son, but what type of life will he have? He won’t know what it’s like to be married, or have a family. You know Rick killed the next one?”

  I looked up at her, my eyes wide.

  “Yeah, the woman after me. She had a child, too, and five years aft
er I left, after I aborted the baby, I got a call from my sister. And there it was, all over the news. Man murders girlfriend, child witnesses it all. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel after that. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel now.”

  “Jennifer, you did what you did because you thought it was best. Your son is not autistic from something that you did many years ago, so why keep punishing yourself? The truth is we all do things that we are unsure of, things that we come to regret in time, but we can’t go back. The past is just that, the past, and it doesn’t have to dictate our present or our future. At this point it is only a memory, a picture in our minds, and we have to let go of the picture or start seeing it differently. And I will tell you now, I regret a lot of things, more than I can even count.”

  She wiped her tears with a Kleenex and looked up at me. “Yeah, and how did you deal with it?”

  “I didn’t.”

  * * *

  “Keep it, Mara,” Frankie said. We sat in the waiting room while he held my hand. I couldn’t believe what I heard come out of his mouth.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Keep it. Keep the baby. We can raise it together. Me and you, we can make this family thing official.”

  I looked at him and I could feel the water in my eyes.

  “Frankie, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, my legs shaking.

  “I know that this is hard. I couldn’t image going through what you’ve gone through and to have a constant reminder, but Mara we can love it and take care of it, me and you. I read some articles about women who have been raped and keep their babies. I mean, the morning after pill didn’t work, so maybe it’s a sign or something. We can—”

  “No!”

  Frankie jumped back in his seat.

  “No, I can’t keep this baby.”

  The receptionist looked up at us, so I lowered my voice.

  “I can’t, Frankie. I can’t keep this baby.”

  His face was sad and my heart ached to hear him plead for the child’s life, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep it and I needed him there to pick me up, to put back together the broken pieces of me when it was all over.

  He tightened his grip on my hand and looked away.

  “Okay, Mara… Okay.”

  Chapter 22

  September 20

  CHOICE

  All of my choices are moving me nowhere. Dead ends everywhere. I chose to cut myself off from people to protect myself but I only ended up lonely, paranoid, and violent. I chose to open up and let someone in, and my feelings were hurt. Each choice I have made hasn’t moved me further and has only left me chasing my tail. I guess it has to happen like that sometimes, to be stuck at a crossroads, to think about what crossroads you’ve already conquered and how you’ll use that knowledge to conquer the rest. I know what doesn’t work, and now I can move towards what does. Maybe now I am equipped to make the right choice. I can choose to move forward and not let what has happened to me keep me angry and bitter. I can choose to feel again and not be numbed by my pain. I want to be a better person. I want to get past my lies, the ones that I have told others and the ones that I continually choose to tell myself. I choose to learn not only from my hurt but from my happiness, the fullness of life, however it presents itself. Circumstance and many of my poor choices have led me here, the place where my heart aches, and though they have helped mold me, they do not define me, because I still have a choice and I choose to heal, to grow, and to love.

  * * *

  Niko had caught me. “Do you want to come by Wednesday for another cooking lesson?” he asked. “I have the evening off.”

  He stood in front of me, looking beautiful as usual, and I couldn’t say no, not to him. I had come to terms with his gayness, and although the fact that we would only ever be friends made me sad, I knew he would be a good friend to have. Niko was kind and he didn’t try to manipulate me. He just wanted my time and I was willing to give it. Emotionally the past couple weeks had been a challenge, so of course I had wine before I headed to his place. I knew it wasn’t a healthy habit to start but I needed something that would help me make it through the night without having an anxiety attack.

  When I walked into Niko’s place, I felt better than I did the last time. He already had some stuff cooking in the kitchen and it smelled divine, something savory filled with spice.

  “Hey, Mara.” He held the door open as I walked in. “You look nice.”

  I had to admit I did look nice. I had just come from clinical so I had on my business best. Not the best for cooking, but I didn’t care, I felt good in what I was wearing. It had been a slow process, but I was getting close to retiring my baggy, saggy clothes for good. I felt like a woman again when I was with Niko. A happier one.

  “Niko, your hair!”

  He stood before me with short hair and it suited him.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, running his fingers through it. “It was time for a change.”

  “I like it.” I reached up to touch it. He didn’t seem to mind. We had been gawking at each other for too long so I pulled away and walked towards the living room to put my bag down.

  “I’ll take your stuff,” he said. He grabbed my bag and my jacket and took them into his bedroom.

  “What are we making tonight?” I asked.

  He emerged in the hallway.

  “Just some stew and a couple of other things. Tonight won’t be much of a lesson because I have some people coming over.”

  “Oh, okay, well, let’s do this quick, then, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “No, you’re staying, that’s why I invited you,” he said, his face wondering why I even thought otherwise.

  “Well, thanks for asking,” I said, my sarcasm clear.

  “Sorry, I thought I did ask you.”

  “You asked me to come over for a lesson, not to hang out with friends. There’s a difference. And what if I had come here unprepared, not looking as gorgeous as I do now?”

  Niko walked into the kitchen and started tinkering with spoons, pots, and bowls. Moving and mixing, just like a kitchen master.

  “Mara, you always look gorgeous,” he said before he tasted his creation. “Besides, it’s just my sister and her husband, my mom, and mother-in-law.”

  My breath left me. I was going to meet Niko’s mother, his family. I started to sweat a little until I realized that I was panicking for no reason. Niko and I were just friends, and with the revelation that Niko didn’t like my kind, I had gotten past whatever romantic feelings I had for him.

  Niko pulled a bottle of wine from the wine rack and a glass from the cabinet.

  “Wine?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.” I needed it.

  Niko handed me the glass and I chugged it down in a matter of seconds.

  He looked at me, astonished.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he lifted his glass to take a drink.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just thirsty. So when are we expecting these guests?” I set the glass on the kitchen island.

  “Oh, they'll be here in a little while, which reminds me, I need you to cut up some stuff.”

  He pulled out some lemons and limes. “Cut these and put them on this plate, please,” he said, pushing the cutting board towards me before pulling out a clean knife.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. I had seen my mother cut up stuff before but I never did anything like that, which made me pathetic.

  “How do you want these cut?”

  Niko walked over and showed me with such ease how to properly cut a lemon, then went on to more important things.

  I was about to start when I heard my phone ring back in the bedroom.

  “I’ll be back,” I said, and I sprinted toward the bedroom.

  My jacket and purse sat on the bed and I sat down and pulled my phone out. Frankie. That asshole. I didn’t want to talk to him. I threw the phone back in my purse. I sat there and looked around at the room. It was meticulously clean and smelled like Niko,
like fresh air. I went to stand up but a dizzy spell pulled me back to the bed. The wine. It was finally catching up to me. I stood up again, but slower. I was tipsy, edging my way to drunk.

  I could do this. I could be a gay man’s friend. I would not be conquered by unfortunate circumstances. I would not be beat, I told myself, and I walked back into the kitchen.

  “Everything okay?” Niko asked.

  “Yep, everything is fine. Now don’t distract me, I have work to do,” I said, moving back to my work station. I always applauded my ability to remain very chill in my intoxicated states. While most people got outright ridiculous, I remained sexy, floating on a cloud. Niko stepped back from the stove and peered over my shoulder.

  “No,” he said.

  “No what?” I asked, confused.

  “You’re cutting it wrong.”

  “What do you mean? This is what you showed me.” I set the knife on the counter, completely oblivious to what he was talking about.

  “No, you need to cut through it, not hack it to death.”

  I looked at him, baffled.

  He reached around me, grabbing both hands, and guided me through the cuts. His hands were damp from washing them and his body heat surged through my fingertips. I could smell him again, his sweet, clean freshness. I hungered for him, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied.

  “See, you cut through it. You’ll hurt yourself your way.” He backed away from me and went back to work at the stovetop.

  That was it? That was all I got? I couldn’t keep on pretending that I didn’t want this man in some way. It was something primal, or maybe just the alcohol, but I had no fear, not here, not with him. I wanted to know for sure what I was dealing with. Was he gay? Bisexual? I wanted to know. The smart thing would have been to ask, but I didn’t want some dry verbal response or awkward conversation. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel something. I had womanly wiles, I could seduce a man if I wanted to. I knew that I had been out of practice but I was confident in my abilities, and if he was gay, full gay, that would be okay because at least I would know. He touched me first. He started it. And it triggered my desire. I stopped cutting lemons and turned around.