by L. M. Carr
Frustration riddles my body at my stupidity. I should’ve told Alex I was going to come for a visit. A movement causes my eyes sweep upward. Standing there against the window, I see Tyler with his phone to his ear. Our eyes meet. I force my eyes to break away, but they betray me so I continue to look at him as he looks intently at me. Even from this distance, I can see the narrowing of his eyes, the contempt, the hate that is directed toward me before he closes his eyes, shakes his head and steps away from the window.
Once again I confirm the simple fact, I hate Tyler Strong.
***
“MINE LOOKS LIKE shit compared to yours!” Pam laughs, looking at her painting over the rim of the wine glass. “Oh well!” She tips the glass back and chugs the rest.
“You shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine,” I tease.
She snorts. “Someone needs to represent the LPDA! And I only had two.”
I hand over my debit card and turn to Pam, my forehead wrinkling with curiosity. “The what?”
“The Ladies Professional Drinking Association.”
“Are you the president?”
“Not yet. I’m only the vice president.” She smirks as we walk through the door and out to our cars.
“I’m not ready to go home yet.” I sigh. “Alex is at Tyler’s garage working on bikes.”
With two raised brows and a single look, she says more than she would if she had uttered a thousand words.
“Don’t start!”
She tosses her hands in the air. “I didn’t say a thing!”
“You didn’t have to.” I narrow my eyes as I link our elbows and drag her to her sporty coupe. “Come on, you lush. The next round is on me.”
Using the rearview mirror, I keep an eye on Pam as she follows me to The Black Horse, the best hole in the wall bar around.
We find a small booth and each order a glass of wine from the over-friendly waitress. Perusing the bar, I notice a few people playing pool while others play darts. It’s relatively busy considering it’s a Monday night. Lots of construction workers like to stop in for a beer or two before heading home to the wives or girlfriends.
I enjoy Pam’s company as she tells me her plans to move to Florida some day when she hits the lottery. We lift our glasses and clink them together, toasting to her improbable dream.
By the night’s end, I’m slightly buzzed and eager to get home. As we step outside, Pam’s humorous antics force me to wipe away the tears of laughter running down my face. I giggle and stop… then giggle again.
“Stop! I’m going to pee myself!” I demand without an ounce of conviction.
“Well, at least you’ll finally be wet.”
“Pam! I can’t believe you said that!”
“Whatever!” She rolls her eyes and grins.
I pull my keys out of my purse and once again snake my arm around her, linking elbows with the one friend who can cheer me up like no one else can. Although we don’t see each other often, we manage to pick up right where we left off. We walk silently across the crushed stone parking lot as crickets chirp and the sound of muffled country music floats through the warm night air. We stop immediately when a woman’s high-pitched squeals and moans break the otherwise quiet, moonless night. Pam and I turn to see a man scrambling to lower his pants just enough to expose his bare ass.
Pam whistles then whispers, “Now that is a nice ass!”
Leaning forward still wedged in between the open door and the front seat, the tall man thrusts relentlessly while a pair of thin legs wrap around his waist. Pam breaks free of my hold and cups her mouth, hooting and hollering, telling him to “get a room and give it to her really good!”
I slap her hands away from her mouth. “Shut up!” I whisper through clenched teeth.
As if my eyes have a mind of their own, my gaze shifts back to the couple. I stare in their direction, completely mesmerized by this very private moment. A longing, a desire fills me and an expected throb between my legs commences.
“Right?”
I snap out of the erotic trance and turn to look at her. “What?”
“I said, ‘If you’re going to get it on, it might as well be with that fine piece of ass, right?’”
My teeth come down hard on my bottom lip to suppress the sensation building in my core.
“Alex has a great ass.”
“For an older man, maybe.”
I laugh. “No way! He’s in great shape.”
“If those two don’t finish soon I might have to get some popcorn and enjoy the show from the privacy of my car.”
“Oh, God!” I slap my forehead. “And that’s my cue! Bye, Pamela.” I stick my tongue out as I use her full name which she hates.
I open the car door and get in. I start the engine and my headlights flash in the direction of the half-naked man. Wildly searching across the dashboard of my new car, I feel around for the button to dim the lights. Instead of turning the lights off, the high beams shine brightly into the satisfied face of Penny as she peeks over her lover’s shoulder and grasps the man’s hair, running her fingers down his neck. I press the gas pedal down and race out of the parking lot as one thought consumes me. I just witnessed Tyler having sex with Penny. In his truck. In the parking lot. Doesn’t he have the common decency to get in the truck and close the door? And what’s even worse is the fact that I was turned on!
My stomach rolls and I choke back the taste of animosity. The voice inside my head reminds me…
I hate Tyler Strong.
The image of him screwing Penny circles over and over in my head as I drive across to my side of town. The part where huge homes are set on sprawling acres of land, the part where teenage kids have birthday bashes fit for a king and receive shiny luxurious German cars as gifts.
The garage door rises at the touch of a button and I pull into my bay, hoping but not expecting Alex’s motorcycle will be parked in its spot. I’m happy he has a hobby, something he’s passionate about, but it’s one that demands a lot of attention. Countless hours are spent working on bikes at Tyler’s garage where no one cares how loud the engine revs or how loud the music is.
My hope plummets at the sight of the vacant spot.
I shower quickly, text him and crawl into bed to read. Nights like this have become the norm it seems. A short while later, Alex replies with a text that says he’s got about another two hours and I shouldn’t wait up. He says things aren’t going as planned.
Feeling a combination of hurt and resentment, I text back a snide comment about how he should divorce me and marry his bike.
My husband’s name flashes across the screen and I answer his call.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He doesn’t even say hello.
I flinch at his harsh tone. “What? I was just kidding!”
“You know what race season is like.”
“Yep, I do.” My lips form an O and make a loud pop.
“You act like I’m out at a bar or screwing around.”
Tyler.
I stare at our wedding picture and sigh, wanting to tell him about what I saw Tyler doing, but I don’t. It’s none of my business.
“I miss you.” I look at my wedding band. “Is that so wrong?” I turn over and pull the cover over my body as I lie alone in our king-size bed.
“It’s almost over.”
“Ok. Wake me up when you get home.” Chastising myself internally, I shiver at the desperation in my voice.
“Gotta go.”
Before I can say the words I love you, the line disconnects.
I vaguely remember hearing the shower running at three o’clock in the morning when Alex tiptoed into the room. I think I said hello, but it was late and I hadn’t gotten much sleep.
My eyes flutter open as Alex moves about the room getting dressed for work.
“What are you doing up so early?”
“It’s not early.” He glances up from his phone. “It’s almost eight.” He pulls his work T-shirt on over his head befor
e dipping his fingertips into the jar of gel. Rubbing his hands together, he runs his fingers through his hair, straightening it in the mirror. I smile in appreciation when he bends down to tie his boots.
“You’re very handsome.”
He offers a crooked side grin as he saunters over to me, planting a quick kiss on my forehead. “So I’ve been told.”
“You’re also arrogant.”
“Yep. I’ve been told that as well.”
“Don’t forget we have dinner with my parents this weekend.”
He freezes mid-stride just as he reaches the door.
“What now?” I ask, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.
“Ty and I were going to test and tune the bike this weekend.”
“Okay,” I draw out the obvious.
“In Maryland.”
“Oh, c’mon! Are you serious?” I jump out of bed and put my hands on my hips angrily. “This is ridiculous.” My foot comes down with a heavy stomp as if I were a spoiled child.
His eyes drag lazily down my stiff naked body until they reach my face.
“I told you it’s almost over.”
I close my eyes and count backwards from ten, hoping the tension will seep out before I explode. Clenching my jaw, I reopen my eyes, shake my head and trudge into the bathroom, slamming the door hard and pressing the lock.
I fully expect him to knock on the door or demand I open it, but he doesn’t. He just leaves.
By the end of the day, I’m on a nonstop JetBlue flight to my parent’s condominium in Florida. I’d give anything to see his reaction when he reads my note.
“It’s tanning season. Going to Florida. Not sure when I’ll be back.”
He calls and texts relentlessly…and I ignore him. His attempts to lure my own mother to his side were in vain. She does argue that I am being childish and immature, insisting I should at least talk to the man since he is, after all, my husband. I agree to call him, but I don’t.
I walk along the beach, soaking up the sun’s rays as I look for seashells. I nap on the beach after swimming in the blue ocean. I eat a delicious gourmet meal and drink an entire bottle of expensive champagne at a fancy restaurant.
For the most part, I enjoy myself until the voice of sadness creeps in to remind me that I am, in fact, alone.
After nearly two weeks of doing nothing, I’m ready to go home so I say goodbye to the Sunshine State.
I’M STARTLED AWAKE by the sound of heavy footsteps as Alex forces the door open. He looks menacing as he barrels over to my side of the bed. His hot, alcohol-laced breath bellows in my face.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
My husband reaches around and yanks me up by my long hair into a sitting position, his snarled face mere inches away from mine.
“You think you can just take off and leave me?”
I swallow hard as tears fill my eyes at both his tight grip on my head and his harsh tone.
“Alex, let me go! You’re hurting me!” I scream, hoping my voice will snap him out of his animalistic rage. “Stop!” I scream louder when he tells me to shut up.
“You’re nothing but a spoiled little bitch.” A spray of saliva shoots out of his mouth and lands on my cheeks.
My eyes search wildly and hopelessly for the man I married. For my Alex.
“What are you talking about?” I manage through sobs. My fingers slide across his unshaven face, caressing gently, anticipating the return of my husband. “I just needed a few days to myself.” I stammer, trying to assuage him. “Alex, please. Let me go.”
“I gave you everything. Everything! And for what? For you to leave me and take everything I’ve worked so hard for?”
Confusion blurs my mind. “Alex, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.” I cry harder.
The hold on my hair loosens as he falls to his knees, his face resting on my lap while his lips move slowly. “All I ever wanted to do was to make you happy.”
I run my hands over his head, his hair slipping through my fingers.
“I am happy.” I am most of the time.
He shakes his head and mumbles a quick “no.”
“I’m lonely, Alex. I’m just lonely.”
He doesn’t reply.
With my husband passed out on my lap, I lie awake for hours and wonder how we got here. How did my seemingly happy marriage become so unhappy? When did his love for everything else replace his love for me?
***
I CRUMPLE THE note he left on the island and hurl it across the room before I break down into a fit of sobs.
“Happy fucking Anniversary to you too, Alex.”
My eyes are still red and puffy when I arrive at the hospital for my weekend shift. I lie and tell everyone I had a reaction to a new sunscreen.
“Isn’t today your anniversary?” Odessa strides into the lounge area to warm up her curry rice dish.
“Yep, sure is.” I reply nonchalantly.
Her big brown eyes open wide. “So what are you doing here? Why are you working?”
“I traded last weekend when I was in Florida.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re working on your anniversary.”
“Alex is racing.”
She tightens her lips into a hard line as if she’s trying to refrain from speaking. I know what she’s going to say and I don’t really need to hear it especially after the earful I got from my parents.
“How many years now?”
“Five.”
Odessa sits beside me. “You know, in some cultures, five is considered to be a lucky number.”
“I thought thirteen was the lucky number.” I stab my fork into the greens of my salad.
“When’s your birthday?”
“July 7th.”
“What year?”
“87.”
“See! You’re a five.”
“A five?”
“Your numbers 7, 7, 87.”
I toss a confused look in her direction as I take a sip of water.
“What’s seven plus seven?”
“Fourteen,” I answer skeptically.
“Okay and what’s eight plus seven?”
“Fifteen,” I sigh with annoyance.
“Drop the one and you have your number!”
Utterly bewildered, I ask, “What are you talking about?”
“See! You’re a five. Just like I said! This is going to be your lucky year. Good things await you. Mark my words…good things will happen.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes, trying to understand her rationale, but I can’t because it doesn’t make sense.
“Did you learn that in your Guyanese school?”
“No! I learned it in an astrology class in college.”
I laugh at my absurd friend. “Thank you.”
“For what?” She smiles knowingly.
“For taking my mind off the fact that I’m here on my wedding anniversary.”
“Awww! That’s what friends are for!”
“You are a good friend even though you tried to trick me into eating goat meat that one time. I still haven’t forgiven you!”
After sleeping for a few hours when I get home, I lounge by the pool, tend to my garden, tidy up the house and try my hand at a new recipe. I wave to the group of young fit stay at home moms who push their baby strollers and chat about reality television. I peruse the mail and leave it on the counter, separating Alex’s from mine. There’s an envelope with a return address label from an out of state attorney. I wonder who’s trying to sue A.P. Electrical now. Or maybe Alex has had to put a lien on a property for nonpayment.
I arrive at work early, carrying a large box of scrumptious pastries from Susie’s Sweets, a quaint French patisserie and a box of Joe from Dunkin’ Donuts.
“You’re going to have more junk in the trunk if you keep eating those cookies!” Odessa laughs as she shoves half an éclair into her mouth. “So good,” she moans.
I smirk and toss the other half at her. She gasps
at the cream on her scrubs before she proceeds to lift her shirt and lick it off.
My mouth falls open in shock and it’s my turn to gasp.
“You know I can’t let it go to waste! Back in my country when I was just a little girl, I had to…”
Her voice trails off as Anita, a few other nurses and I make a mass exodus out of the room. We’ve all heard the stories about her childhood in Guyana.
I’ve still not heard from my husband. Truth be told, I’ve made no attempt to contact him either. Maybe we both need a few days apart.
Finding the second break room empty, I collapse onto the faux leather sofa to finish my “lunch” hour at two o’clock in the morning. I stare at the clock and listen to its rhythmic pattern. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The deliberate movement of the second hand is comforting. It reminds me that life continues on every second of every day.
My neck tips to the side as his soft lips nip and kiss a small trail, his hands run up and down my arms gently and them with more force. His deep voice whispers sweet nothings into my ear and a shy smile tugs at my lips. “Say it again,” I plead quietly, turning my head to consider his bluish-green orbs. “I need you,” he repeats the words I love to hear.
“Karrie, wake up. C’mon! We need you.” Anita wakes me up with firm rubs to my arms. “Karrie, we need all hands on deck.”
I toss the small blanket onto the chair and stand as I wipe the sleep from my eyes. My legs feel weak and I’m slightly disoriented. My cheeks flush pink when I yawn, my dream still fresh on my mind. After shaking my head quickly, I comb my fingers through my hair, securing it back into a ponytail and follow her out. While the warmth of the blanket subsides, I notice the warmth and moisture between my legs remains.
Anita and I walk with hurried steps, following Odessa out through the sliding glass doors into the cool night air to wait for the arrival of the ambulance. I can hear the sirens blaring in the distance and when it arrives, the bright red and white lights flash brightly, reflecting off the doors and windows, casting a red glow on our faces.
