My Redemption Too: a Second Chance series

by S. K. Lessly

  My brows furrowed in indignation. “No, we didn’t.”

  Tyler looked over at Samson for assistance, and Samson nodded my way. “Yeah, it was pretty disgusting.”

  “You two are exaggerating,” I contested but deep down I knew they had a point. I mean, we weren’t high school BFFs or anything, but we did have a connection that I knew was far different from any other relationship I’ve had in the past with a woman, hell with anyone.

  “You know it’s true,” Tyler said after I grew quiet. “I figured it was only a matter of time before you two got it on.”

  I put my hand up to stop him. “Hold up. Are you implying that Lauren would have stepped out on Sebastian?”

  Tyler busted out laughing. I frowned wondering what in the hell was so fucking funny.

  I asked, “What’s so fucking funny?”

  “Uhhh, are you serious right now?” Tyler asked, laughter still slipping through his smile.

  I looked at Samson for help, but he just looked at me with a stupid grin on his face. I looked back at Tyler. “Do you mind letting me in on the joke?”

  “Bro, you didn’t know?”

  Now I was getting pissed. “Didn’t know what?”

  Tyler, realizing that I was completely clueless, stopped smiling and sobered just a bit. “Dude, Sebastian was banging Amy on a regular.” I looked at him in shock. My eyes were probably big as saucers. Tyler nodded co-signing my shock. “Yup! Crazy, huh?”

  “How did you know?” Samson prodded. I looked over at him, and he looked just as shocked as I was.

  Tyler waved both of us off and finished his beer. He placed the empty bottle next to him and gave us a pitying look.

  “First of all, I could tell they had a thing for each other. There was something in the air when they were in the same room. It wasn’t anything like what you and Lauren had going on Paul, but it was there. When Lauren moved to Jersey, things seemed to calm down. However, when we went to Myrtle Beach, things escalated. I actually caught him leaving Amy and David’s room one night.”

  “What?” I voiced.

  “Holy shit!” Samson echoed.

  Tyler stood, grabbed our empty bottles, and deposited them in Samson’s recycle bin next to the fridge. He then opened the fridge and pulled out three more bottles.

  “You need more brew in here, bro.” Tyler chastised.

  “Fuck the brew. How do you know things escalated?” Samson asked. “You just saw him leave. You can’t assume something was going on just by that.”

  Tyler sat back down in his seat. He opened our beers then handed a bottle to Samson and me.

  I watched him, impatiently waiting for him to continue. The funny bastard prolonged our agony by taking a long pull of his beer before he spoke.

  “Oh, did I forget to mention I saw him kiss her goodbye? And let me tell you it wasn’t a peck. That kiss was heavy, sloppy, and a bit disturbing to watch.”

  “Why because Amy’s a dude?” I questioned, and Tyler choked on his beer. Samson spit his out all over the front of his shirt and pants.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the both of them. The look of bewilderment was plastered on each of their faces.

  “Oh, you didn’t know that?” I shook my head loving the fact that I had something on these assholes they didn’t know. I took a calming sip of my drink and stared straight ahead at the dark TV.

  “Are you kidding me?” Samson asked once he got himself together.

  I glanced sideways at him. “No, I’m not kidding.”

  “How do you know this?” Samson asked.

  At the same time, Tyler asked, “And Sebastian new that?”

  I focused on Tyler's question first. “Yeah, Sebastian knew it. Who do you think he was cheating with when Lauren caught him?”

  Tyler looked at me dumbfounded, and I couldn’t help but shake my head. “Damn, you really don’t talk to your wife? I know Tonya knows all about Sebastian being gay, Amy being a guy, and David… Well, I think David was a victim just like Lauren and me.” When they looked at me stunned, I clarified, “In the sense of him getting cheated on.”

  “Ahhh,” they both replied in unison.

  “This is unbelievable,” Tyler mumbled under his breath. “I had no clue Amy was a guy. I mean sure she had one of those deep velvety voices, but hell my boss, who I know for sure is a woman sounds just like that. And I didn’t notice an Adam’s apple or nothing.”

  I shrugged. “From what Lauren told me, she has a dick and balls. But she identifies herself as a female.”

  “But she has tits,” Tyler blurted out. “And she’s pretty for a guy er uh… girl, whatever.”

  “Look, we are getting off topic here,” Samson cut in. “Let’s sum this shit up right now. I can feel my own balls starting to retract up into my stomach. To recap, Sebastian is a closet homosexual. Amy is transgender or transsexual and David, well it sucks to be him. Now, with that being established, Paul, what are you going to do about your feelings for Lauren?”

  I had lifted my beer to my lips to take a sip but paused when I felt both sets of brown eyes weighing heavily on me. I took a long sip as I thought about how to answer the question. If I acknowledged the question, was I admitting that I still had feelings for Lauren? Should I lie?

  I knew I still had feelings for her the moment she pulled up at the firehouse with a bag of my favorite cookies that she baked from scratch, asking me for help. Hell, if I was honest, I knew I still had feelings for her the second I thought she was trapped in Sebastian’s house that fateful night.

  For weeks, I’ve worked hard to bury my feelings for her. I even tried to move on, but to be honest was that shit working? I wasn’t sure. I had done everything that I was supposed to do to move on. I started to see someone else, and I focused on my future and not my past. However, all of my efforts go right out of the window the second I see her.

  “How did the floor installation go?” I heard Samson ask after he realized I wasn’t answering his other question.

  I took a healthy sip of beer, as a stalling method, and then sat the bottle next to my feet.

  “It was fine,” I said simply.

  Samson wasn’t happy with my answer.

  “Fine? That’s all you’re going to say is fine?”

  “What do you want me to say?” I countered guardedly, my eyes narrowing on him.

  Samson watched me for a moment; his eyes squinted as he studied me wordlessly. Finally, after growing impatient, I told him what he wanted to hear.

  “Samson, it doesn’t matter how I feel about her. She’s the one that ended things, not me.”

  “So what, make her see that she made a huge fucking mistake. I’m sure she feels that way anyway. Then you take her back and allow her to make it up to you until you pass out.”

  I was shaking my head before he finished.

  “Man, it doesn’t work that way. You both know the type of woman Lauren is. If she wanted to get back together or see if maybe we could start over, she would have told me so. No matter how things ended with us, she would have said something. We worked side by side last week. We laughed, reminisced, and talked sports for hours. It was like old times, and by the end of the night, I left. That was it.”

  “Okay, but you haven’t answered my question. Are you still in love with her?” he countered.

  “In love?” Tyler’s eyes seemed to bulge out of his face as he gaped me. “Hell, man. I thought you two were just fucking and you liked her or something. I had no idea it was more than that.”

  I topped off my beer then stood. It was time for me to go. I started to walk away but decided to leave them with a little something.

  “Am I still in love with her?” I sighed and finally admitted, “Yeah, I am. But…” I raised my hand to stop the rebuttal that was seconds from falling out of Samson's pursed lips. “…that’s not enough. She has to feel the same. She has to not only tell me that she feels the same but also prove it. She broke up with me because of what others would think of us bein
g together, of perception. I don’t want that kind of hesitation or uncertainty in my life. And before you say it, no I’m not completely certain of her or us either. But the difference was that I had been willing to try. She wasn’t. End of story. Now, I’m trying to move on. I don’t know if Bridgette will be the woman I end up with. However, I’m willing to take the risk.” I looked at Samson then Tyler trying to let them see just how over I was with the conversation. Hopefully, they won't bring it up again. However I should have known my friend.

  “Listen,” Samson began on a deep sigh, “I understand what you said and I somewhat agree that she has to feel the same way. The difference between you and me is that I believe she does. You two are just too stubborn to realize that.” I started to express my complete disagreement when Samson raised his hand to stop me, sort of like what I had just done to him. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Let me just say this, regardless of what you feel for Lauren and what you think Lauren feels for you. There is another person in the mix here. How can you truly be with someone if you’re in love with someone else?”

  Admittedly, Samson had a point. Damn sensible bastard. I just couldn’t deal with the cold, harsh reality of my life. Instead of replying with anything but you have a point I decided to deflect. I needed time to think and I couldn’t very well do it with them around.

  “I hear you and I’ll take what you’ve said under advisement. I’ll see you guys later. Tell your wives I said Merry Christmas.”

  I gave them both the finger and my back as I took the exit from the garage that led to the street. Yeah, it was turning out to be a very Merry Christmas…

  Buh Humbug!

  * * *

  I drove home thinking about how I had just admitted to still being in love with Lauren. What in the ever loving fuck was that? I had to be out of my mind drunk since I admitted that shit to them. I couldn’t be still in love with Lauren. Samson was right, what the hell was I doing with Bridgette if that were the case?

  Shit, was I still in love with Lauren? Fuck me, yes I was.

  As the truth settled in my chest, I breathed out slowly. Shit…

  I was using Bridgette to get over Lauren. I knew that, I was sure Bridgette was doing the same thing. That truth didn’t make this situation any better. Nevertheless, if I was being honest with myself, Bridgette and I were heading nowhere, and I think we both knew it.

  Since we met, we've been playing it casual. We fucked often enough. She would call me, or I would call her, and we’d hook up, which was fine. We also went out to dinner and the movies here and there, but that had been about it. Our conversations on the phone or in person were filled with the highs and lows of past relationships, jobs, and family, shit like that. However, that was the extent of us opening up.

  Things had started to change after I suggested that we take a trip together. She started calling more often wanting to get in-depth with our feelings. We started going out more, and our booty calls had graduated to overnight stays. The progression of our relationship was a good thing, at least that’s what I had thought. It was what I had wanted— to move on with my life. It was also the main reason why I had asked Bridgette to go on the trip with me.

  Except, even though our behavior toward each other changed, my feelings for Bridgette wasn’t getting stronger. I wasn’t craving for her, wanting her, or desperately needing her every day. It wasn’t like Lauren. Back when I was with her, I ached desperately for that woman. Quiet as kept I still did, which now that I thought about it, was the problem.

  No matter what I tried to do, or how bad I wanted to forget my past and forget her, I couldn’t. I was in love with Lauren. It was as simple as that. Therein lies my problem. What do I do about it?

  Despite what I said to Samson, I agreed with him, or at least I had my suspicions. Lauren still felt something for me. I could see it in her eyes the other day in her bedroom, when she showed me around her house. I had even saw it right before I left. There was something there, a spark that quite honestly had never died between us. Here was the question I needed to answer, was I going to wait for her to make the first move?

  Forget what I had said to Samson. Lauren wasn’t going to make the first move and approach me. She thought I had moved on with Bridgette. There was no way she would approach me or admit anything to me with that truth staring her in the face. This was up to me. I needed to talk to her, to see where her head and her heart were at. But first, I needed to end things with Bridgette.

  I felt like shit for stringing her along. I wasn’t sure how she was going to take what I had to say, but I figured this talk was overdue.

  I had made a right on my street and pulled out my phone to send her a text. Tomorrow was Christmas. It was fucked up for me to do this now, considering it was the holidays, but I couldn’t drag it on either. I looked up her number ready to call her, when I noticed her car was parked in my driveway.

  Puzzled, I glanced at my phone to check for any missed calls or messages from her. There wasn’t any.

  Frowning, I pulled in next to her and shut off my engine. As I stepped out of my truck, she emerged from her car.

  “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” I said to her as I rounded her car to meet her. I leaned in for a quick hug and a quick peck to her cheek.

  She gave me a hesitant smile as I pulled back from her. “Yeah, I know. I was on my way home but thought about stopping by to check on you before I went home.”

  That was strange. She always called before she came over. Sensing the tension and unasked question she added, “I actually just pulled up and was about to call you when I saw your truck coming down the street. I was hoping that you and I could talk.”

  My heart began beating eighty miles a second with anticipation, but I stamped down the reaction and nodded. I gave her another smile and directed her to precede me.

  “Sure, come on in.”

  8

  Lauren

  The end of the year had come and gone without so much as a kiss goodbye. Christmas was spent with me trying to cook a turkey breast without drying it out. Let’s just say it didn’t turn out like the picture on the recipe. It wasn’t my fault. I followed the recipe to the letter. Whoever wrote the dang thing got the cooking time wrong, which caused me to overcook the dang bird. Stupid recipe people...

  Eugene, and his crazy self, tried to make his way to my house for Christmas, claiming that he had gifts for me, but I kindly told him I still needed more time to think about us. The week before was amazing without him hounding me. When I told him I needed more time, he bitched and moaned about it, but what could he do? Yeah, I know, this wasn’t like me. But for some reason I just couldn’t deal with him or this situation just yet.

  The New Year came in with me drunk on my ass, praying to the porcelain god for mercy. I stayed home on New Year’s Eve and drank myself into a depression of epic proportion. Last year fucking sucked hairy, smelly balls, and I prayed that next year would be better. The only recourse was that my fucking Philadelphia Eagles were on a run. They were going to the playoffs, and I knew the next stop would be the Super Bowl. No one was stopping us, despite our star quarterback going down. Nick Foles was back, and I had faith that he would get us to the promise land. We also had Fletcher Cox, the sickest defensive tackle in the game. What more could you want?

  A life that wasn’t shit, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?

  Anyway, a few days after the New Year started, I met Tonya for lunch at a café in Hoboken right off the river. It was cold as shit, but the view of the big bad city made up for the dreadful winter day.

  “How was your New Year?” Tonya inquired, picking up her Reuben sandwich and taking a bite. I watched, amused, as she closed her eyes and moaned softly.

  I chuckled and shook my head at her. “Uh, do you two need to be alone? I can step outside if you—”

  “Oh, shut up. I’m just hungry, or rather this baby is hungry.”

  Yup, that’s right. My girl was preggers. I know it was news to
me too. Apparently, she didn’t want anyone to know until she got out of the first trimester. She was about seven months now, and this was the first time in a long time that she and I had a chance to actually go out to eat. Her pregnancy started off as good as any. According to Tonya, her first trimester went by with no problems. She wasn’t even sick and had found out that she was pregnant well into her first trimester.

  The second trimester, now that’s when shit hit the fan. She was sick like all the time. She could barely keep anything down. Her doctor put her on bedrest when her pressure started spiking, and she started spotting. All she did during that time was sleep, throw up, and be miserable. I had gone to see her and sat with her when she wanted company and when Tyler was out of town for work. We’d hang out, talk, watch movies, and I made sure she made it to the bathroom when she ate something that the baby didn’t like.

  She was good now, but watching her go through that made me rethink having kids. I was just glad that I had my girl back. She’s been fine lately. She hasn’t been as tired, and she’d been able to keep things down as well.

  I laughed at her look of satisfaction and greediness and took a bite of my tuna melt on wheat. My goodness, this sandwich was good. I resisted a moan myself and took a sip of lemonade before I regaled her with depressing stories of my holiday.

  “Well, I stayed home as you know—”

  “On purpose as it were,” she cut in, and I rolled my eyes. She had invited me to dinner at her house for Christmas, but just like Thanksgiving, I didn’t feel up to it.

  “Yes, yes. I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that I stayed home that’s all.”

  “Please don’t tell me that you tried to cook again?”

  I scoffed at that remark.

  “Okay, so I overcooked the ham on Thanksgiving. But this time was different. The recipe I read was wrong on how long you’re supposed to cook a breast. It said one-half hour for every pound. I didn't know the actual directions on how long to cook the stupid thing was on the packaged meat.”