by J. R. Rogue
"Look at me."
I hated his commands. I hated that they turned me on. I felt warm between my thighs. I shook my head again. In response, he pushed himself up and placed his palm on my shoulder, pressing me flat down.
I closed my eyes and felt a couple tears start to grow. I don't know if he saw them, if he cared.
He ran his nose along my jaw and I couldn't control the shaking anymore.
"You're so nervous," he said.
I knew he was laughing at me inside. This was just a game to him too, but I felt like I was going to break apart under his touch. The touch I longed for ever since he left. Part of me wanted to kick him out. The fact that he was here was enough. I had gotten what I wanted, for years. The proof that his marriage was unhappy. That his life after me was not perfect, wasn't the way it looked in pictures.
I moved to kiss him and he pulled away.
"Not yet." He continued to tease me, grazing his lips along my collarbone, pushing me down every time I tried to reach for him.
When he finally did kiss me, we didn't stop. He had pushed me too close to the edge.
I got on top of him and fucked him in a way that I never did while we were together. I showed him everything I learned from other men after he let me go. That I could control my pleasure and it wasn't just up to him. I made him look at me as he betrayed her. I wrapped my hand around his throat and watched his eyes as he liked it.
I thought being with him again would hurt me more. But instead, it woke me up. It showed me what kind of man he was. It showed me that if I got what I wanted, if I had gotten his last name all those years ago, that he would have betrayed me. He would've been fucking some other girl in her dirty trailer while I was taking care of a child.
I didn't come, and he didn't expect me to.
"You've never been able to get me there," I said, as he was pulling his jeans up, just an arm's length away. There. That was it. The punch to the gut. He looked me in the eye and hated me. I enjoyed it.
Before he left, he told me not to tell anyone what happened. He said he would burn my trailer to the ground if I did.
I washed my hands and took the makeup off my face as he gave me his speech.
I didn't care what he had to say.
Everything between us had lasted less than a half hour and in those thirty minutes, I stopped loving him.
Everything I held onto for all those years, every beautiful thing that I thought about him, fell away. I finally saw him for what he was. A shallow man who followed his dick around. A boy who loved toys only for a little while.
I had been one of them. I let myself be one of them again. But I had no interest in ever seeing him again.
I let him out of my bedroom, out of my living room, onto the front porch, out of my heart.
I shut the door behind him and didn't say a word.
When he pulled away, I fell to my knees and I cried. Not for him but for myself. What I let myself become. I slept with a married man. That was something I could never wash off. It didn't matter that he was mine first. He said vows to Wendy, and I let him break them with me.
I didn't tell any of my friends what I did, and I never heard from him again. When he was brought up in conversation it didn't hurt anymore. Whatever I saw a picture of him and Wendy online it didn't hurt anymore. Because I knew the lie that lived under the surface. I know the frailty of his love for her.
My own shame kept me quiet. I had become the kind of woman that I swore I never would. I thought of the little boy, Avery's little boy. And I hated myself.
The only good that came from that night is that I stopped loving him there instantly. But a little bit more of the little amount of love I had for myself fell away, too.
32
Unrestrained
“So you never saw your ex again? Avery? That was it?”
“Yes. Finally. I was free and it felt good. I spent the rest of the summer sleeping with Connor, with Joe, hanging out with the guys. I was drinking until I blacked out, waking up with bruises, teetering on the edge. I was fighting with my mother about talking to my stepfather, feeling guilt over a beast in my stomach that I had no name for. It wasn’t time for me to wake up and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.”
“When would you?”
“It was 2009 then, but in 2012 the fog would be lifted. I would take my skin off and become a new person, some mute shell, a closed door. Connor would be there when I figured it all out. He was always there, it seemed. Even when he wasn’t.”
“And he didn’t want to get back together?”
“No. He wanted to fuck and have fun and slip in and out of each other’s bedrooms. I did that with him for so long. I let myself be the fun fuck and the almost-girlfriend. I let him be that until our games put me in the hospital.”
“How did you end up there?” Her eyes go wide.
I always forget to be careful with my words. It sounds like he beat me, but that was never him. His dick, the cause of all this bullshit, put me there. “We were having sex one night and afterward I felt funny. I slept on his bathroom floor the whole night, sweating, feeling like I was dying. I told him to go to work the next day. Not to worry about me, but he should have. I couldn’t walk, so I had a friend come get me from his house to take me to the hospital. I passed out at the front desk of the emergency room while trying to fill out my paperwork. A cyst had burst inside of me the size of a baseball. The blood was swirling, unrestrained, in my body. I had to have a transfusion, surgery.”
“Oh wow. Did Connor come see you?”
“No. He didn’t. I stopped loving another man that year. I stopped and I pushed him away, for as long as I could.”
33
“Do That Again.”
I feel like I can finally move again, be normal. The past few months have been rough. I’ve been going to work, taking it easy, then coming home. It’s a nice routine. TV dinner, wine, 9 p.m. bedtime. I don’t text Connor back. He kept texting for a while. I don’t know how someone can be so thick, so damn stupid. How can he think we can go back to normal? He didn’t visit me in the hospital after what happened. I spent days alone in my trailer. He went out of town that weekend. Doing who knows what. Seeing who knows who. I have no desire to see him again. There will be no more fucking. No more late-night meetings. Thanksgiving is next week and I think I may actually be up for going out on Wednesday. Everyone is out the night before Thanksgiving. I can’t sit at home while all my friends are out on such a busy night. Maybe I’ll see Connor and be able to blow him off. I want to do it in person. I want to snub him. He deserves it. And I deserve some of my pride back.
The guys picked me up at seven. We were going to a new bar in town. I was happy about that. Going to a fresh place on my first night out in a while felt perfect.
When we made it inside, the boys scattered. I found an empty barstool at the end of the bar.
It didn't bother me that the guys left me alone. The car ride was filled with questioning. How are you? What happened? Where have you been? I eventually told them I loved them but they needed to lay off until I got a drink in me.
The new bar was a sports-themed bar. TV screens lined the walls. The waitresses were dressed up in skimpy referee outfits. I pulled my phone up and hid my face, hid my survey of the room.
I saw Rich in a far corner talking to some friends. I made a mental note to avoid that part of the bar. When the bartender came over, I ordered a cape-codder and swiveled my stool. My spot at the bar ended at the wall. No one could sneak up on me if I turned just the right way. I wasn't in the mood for an ambush, for drama.
From across the room, I recognized the younger brother of a guy who always hit on me when I saw him at the bars. His brother was a no-go but the younger one was a different story. They didn't look related at all. The older brother had dark hair. He was thin, squirrelly, and you could tell every word that fell from his lips was a lie.
I had never spoken to the younger brother. He was a couple years my junior and beautiful.
He was also built. I knew he had been in the army for a few years. I wondered if he was still in and just home for the holiday, or if he was out now. He was chatting with a few guys I recognized.
I let my eyes flitter his way a few times throughout the night. Mostly I stayed to myself. My decision to go out hadn't been the best one. I was still nursing my wounds. Tending to my broken wing. Luckily, Connor didn't show up.
At 11:30, the guy who had been sitting next to me finally left. Or, was dragged out. He looked to be in his 60s or so and was drinking alone the whole night. A younger man, possibly his son, came to pull him out. I felt a slow hand reach over my heart, give it a tug. I would be alone tomorrow for the holiday. I was no better. I shouldn't feel sorry for him, some of us chose that, to be alone when the calendar told us we should be with others.
I buried myself in my phone after he left, cringing at the thought of Rich finding his way to the empty chair.
When someone reached for it, I was startled by the sight of the hand. It was the younger brother I was eyeing earlier. He smiled at me when I looked at him. He had nice teeth, nice lips. Amber hair glittered on his jaw in the low bar light.
"Hi." His eyes were blue, his hair short. He had a nice voice. There was no heavy bass to it, which warmed me.
"Hey." I sounded shy, I was shy. I looked back into my phone. I had enough alcohol in me. I knew I could charm him, but it felt useless. The truth was I just wanted Connor. I wanted him to be the way he was last year so I could love him again. The nice guy, the one who cared about me. He screwed it up, I screwed it up. It was so exhausting.
My new barstool neighbor interrupted my thoughts.
"I'm Chadwick," he said.
"I know," I replied, smiling at his formal name. Why not just go by Chad? "Your brother hits on me all the time." I wrapped my lips around my straw.
"Well, he's a jackass and I'm the better brother." He chuckled to himself.
I liked the way his shoulders shook. They looked solid. I imagined him throwing me over one, carrying me out. I hadn’t had a sexual thought in a while. When sex lands you in the hospital, you tend to avoid even the casual daydream. "That much is apparent." I laughed.
"Has my brother ever asked you out?" He glanced around the bar, finding his sibling; I followed his gaze.
"Yeah."
"What do you say when he does?" He was turned back to me, swiveled in his stool a bit, his knee inches from mine. I wanted to shift and push out that extra space.
"I say no and remind him he's married." I turned a little, let my leg touch his.
"God, he is such a dumbass." He shook his head, his eyes closing a little.
I liked his eyelashes, the wrinkle of his eyes. He seemed soft and I needed soft. "Are you going to ask me out then? Is that what this is?" I ran my thumb along my bottom lip, pretended I wanted to hide my smile.
"I don't know, are you going to turn me down?"
I should have said no. I was half a woman, half an open wound, and I was scared to have sex. After what happened with Connor.
"I'd say yes." I turned forward, pulling my knee from his.
"Then yes. I'm asking you out." He tapped the bar, pulling my eyes to his hands. He was good at this. I wanted them on me then.
In response, I grabbed his phone from the bar, put my number in it. "Okay. Let’s do it then."
I paid my tab and found the guys, not wanting to linger, to leave on a good note.
I learned that Chadwick lived on the other side of the city. It took me a good hour to make it to his house for our first date. I didn't want him coming to my place. He drove a little green Audi and didn't work. The army was paying him to go to school full-time to be an engineer. Blue collar men made me feel at ease. Chad's ambitions made me feel small, but also excited. His skin begged me to touch it and we went on our first date knowing I would be staying the night. We both drank. I wasn't driving my car while under the influence and I wouldn't ask him to call me a cab. He took me to a sports bar and I drank my nerves away. From there we went downtown.
When he reached for my hand, I didn't pull away. Holding hands was such an intimate act for me. I always avoided it.
Chad's house was nicer than I expected. Too nice for a guy who wasn't even working. The only way he was swinging it was because he was renting a room from a friend.
His bedroom made me pause as soon as I saw it. It looked like an adult’s bedroom. Every guy I met had a bedroom that looked like a frat room, a kid's room. Shit on the floor, a comforter that didn't match the sheets, clutter.
He had a large black four post bed. On top of it was a large white down comforter. I walked into his room and took in the rest; a desk, a bookcase full of books. Everything was clean and tidy. Sure, he could have been a mess and only cleaned because he knew I was coming over, but sometimes a little bit of effort was nice when most dudes put in none. I pulled myself onto the bed, nervous. The kissing downstairs had been heated, desperate. The walk up the stairs had given me time to wonder what I was doing, if I would sleep with him, maybe fool around a little, or just pretend I was tired and go to sleep.
Chad walked in and closed the door. He looked shy. "Ready for bed?" he asked.
"Sure." I blushed.
He pulled his shirt over his head in front of me and answered my question. Yes. I would be sleeping with him.
I had never seen a man built like him. Perfect lines, tan skin. He reached for the button of his jeans and slid the zipper down. His pecs moved like slow water.
"Stop," I said, stilling him.
"What?" he asked, his voice a whisper, alarmed.
"Do that again." The words felt like smoke, falling from my lips.
Watching him undress was art. I wanted to savor it, for him to rewind and repeat. I could get over Connor with this guy, I felt it, the slow ache of my heart, easing. The dull pain floating away. If it didn't work, maybe there would be some nice sex to come from this. I liked Chad’s side of town. None of my friends were here. No one knew me here. I could pretend I wasn't the trailer park slut, the trashy girl who blew it with the decent guys. I could blow it with this decent guy and no one would know.
No tally mark on my coffin.
When we woke the next morning, he was spooning me. The sun snuck through his white curtains. Everything looked new in his room. A piece of black and white art hung above his dresser, a train in motion. This guy was different. I could feel it, but I didn't trust my feelings. Why should I?
When Chad smiled at me after waking up, I felt a pang of guilt. It didn't feel like a one-night stand. I could see myself making more and more trips. Maybe it would become a Wednesday night ritual.
He told me to call him when I got home so he knew I was safe.
I did and we talked for an hour. He asked me to come over a few days later, the night before I had a day off again.
It was such a strange thing. I had been single, broken up from Avery, for over two years, and this was the first guy to have me come stay at his place. Was that right?
I ran through the men I had been with.
There was Daniel, so soon after Avery, before Connor, who wanted me to come over. But I had fled after that one-night stand. He had been so tender, said he wanted to put me back together. The alcohol had landed me in his arms and he had that look in his eyes. The kind that said he wanted to find a wife. I wasn't ready for that kind of thing.
Blane, yeah, I had stayed at his house, but only after a party when I couldn't drive.
When we were dating, Connor didn't invite me over because he lived with his sister so we always stayed at my place.
Rich lived with his parents, too. Damn. I really needed to date more men who had their shit together. Not that me living in my uncle's trailer was much better, but still.
I needed someone with his shit together so I could get mine together. We couldn't be two losers in love.
There is a certain hope that tattoos your soul when you meet someone new. Someone promising. I felt it then. B
ut as always, it would be short lived.
34
His Mercy
I wanted to tell Chad that the hockey game was a bad idea, but I didn't. What could I say? He had the tickets already. I just focused on the hockey players on the ice. I tried to forget that I had been down on that ice. That Connor had held my hand, my elbow, kissed my hair. I pretended this date was better than that date, even though it couldn't be.
I got the jumbo popcorn and a drink. I held Chad's hand in the bitter cold of the rink. The air stung but I smiled. After the first period, I pulled my phone out and took a selfie with Chad. I uploaded it to my Instagram while he got us more refreshments. I wanted everything to appear picture perfect, even if it didn’t feel that way.
The text came sooner than I thought it would. Connor's name lit up my phone and I felt a strange mixture of anger and gratification. I knew he would see it, but I couldn't keep my social media hidden, pretend I wasn't dating someone new.
Connor: I know that guy. Chad, right?
Me: Yes.
Connor: He's a good guy.
I shoved my phone back into my purse. What was that? He was a good guy? Yeah, I was aware. It felt like a dig. Or it felt like a blessing. I didn't want a blessing. I wanted him to hate anyone I was with. I wanted him to want to trade places with whoever I was with. I pulled my phone back out and pulled up Facebook. Connor had been checked into the blue stadium an hour earlier.
No, wait, he hadn't checked in; he had been checked in by some chick. I clicked on the profile and took in the girl’s blonde hair. No wonder he had been leaving me alone. He was seeing someone new. But still, he felt the need to reach out to me. Why? I searched the crowd. Did he know where I was sitting? He wouldn't be down here with us. He would be up in a shiny room with glass windows. With his date and sister and her husband. Bringing a girl here had to mean something, right?
