by E. M. Abel
“Maybe I was flirting a little,” he conceded as he sat back down on the couch.
Jerk.
After taking the buds off the scale and putting them in the small bag, he placed it on the table in front of me. “That’ll be sixty bucks.”
I unzipped my purse and pulled out the three twenties I had folded inside. Holding them between two fingers, I extended them out to him, and he looked at me as he took them.
“Thanks,” I said before grabbing the bag and opening it. “You want me to pitch in for the joint?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t worry about it.”
Brandon opened the drawer again, pulling out a joint that had already been rolled and a black lighter. He put one end of the joint between his lips and lit the other. His eyes squinted as he held it between his finger and thumb, and he took a few strong pulls. Taking it from his mouth, he sucked in more air, and his chest expanded as he held his breath.
I couldn’t stop staring.
“So, what does your husband do?” he asked, straining to hold the smoke in before he blew it out.
He held the joint out to me, and I gingerly took it from him.
“He’s a financial management officer. A Major.” I took a hit.
“How long have you lived here?”
I handed it back to him. “About two years. What about you?”
“Shit.” He paused to take another drag. “I guess it’s been about five years now.”
“What brought you to Jacksonville?”
It seemed odd to me that he had chosen to live here. There wasn’t much to do.
“I got out a few years ago and never left.”
My eyebrows rose. “You were a Marine?”
“I still am. Once a Marine, always a Marine.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me that Brandon had been in the military. Maybe it was the beard. I studied him for a few seconds until he handed me the joint again. It was getting smaller, and we had to press our fingers together to pass it. I hadn’t noticed I had been avoiding his touch until I couldn’t anymore.
“What did you do? In the Marine Corps, I mean.”
“Infantry.” He handed me the ashtray to stub out the roach.
“Did you go overseas?” I asked, unsure if he wanted to talk about it.
I knew war was a delicate subject, especially for people who had experienced it firsthand.
He nodded. “Yeah, I did a couple of tours in Afghanistan.”
Reaching down, he lifted his right pant leg and pointed to a long scar down the middle of his kneecap, one of the few spots on his body that wasn’t tattooed. I cringed as he peered over at me.
“I was medically discharged.”
“Ouch,” I muttered, feeling more at ease now that I was buzzing.
“Yeah.” He pulled his pants back over his leg. He shrugged before leaning back into the couch. “It didn’t happen over there though. Somehow, I survived war but almost died in a car accident when I got home.”
The room grew quiet. The sound of cars driving on the street below echoing in the air between us.
“So, you want a drink now?” he asked with a grin. “I’m sure you have cotton mouth.”
“Yeah, I’ll take some water. Thanks.”
Brandon stood up and went to get my water. I couldn’t help but notice that his pants were resting just over the curve of his ass. He had a really nice ass.
“So, what happened the other night?” he called out from the kitchen.
Shit. I chewed on my bottom lip. I hadn’t expected him to ask me that. At least, I had hoped he wouldn’t.
I decided to play dumb to buy myself more time. “What do you mean?”
One of his eyebrows lifted as he came back around the corner with a bottle of water in his hand. As he approached, his gaze moved to my mouth. I quickly released the lip I’d begun chewing again.
“I mean, why did you walk out when things were just getting interesting?”
He held the bottle out to me, and I glanced at the word FEAR before taking it from him. Ironically, seeing those letters gave me some courage.
“It just didn’t feel right, I guess. I’m married, remember?”
I looked up and into his crystal-blue eyes that were still watching me.
“Ah, yeah. That. I noticed you’re still not wearing your ring.”
I ran my fingers over the spot it used to occupy as Brandon sat down again. Opening the bottle of water, I took a long sip, hoping he’d use the chance to change the subject. He didn’t. I carefully screwed the top back on, contemplating what I should tell him. I considered lying but didn’t really see the point. He wasn’t involved in my life, and it seemed safe to assume he wouldn’t blab all my secrets to his friends. Besides, I was high and feeling less inhibited.
“He cheated on me,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the water. I wished it were vodka.
Brandon sighed before he leaned back into the couch. “So, why the guilt?”
My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him.
“If he cheated on you and you’re obviously angry enough to take off your ring, why would you feel guilty?”
“Who said I felt guilty?”
“You don’t have to say it. It’s written all over your face.”
I turned away, watching my fingers as they peeled the label off the bottle in my hands. “I guess I don’t hate him as much as I want to.”
Brandon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. His bloodshot eyes were level with mine when I turned to face him again. He smelled like smoke and looked like heat.
His hair fell forward, and he tucked it behind his ear. “Why do you want to?”
My palms were sweating against the water in my hands. “My life would be a lot easier if I did.”
Brandon held my gaze, and I refused to look away. I refused to be intimidated.
“So, is that why you haven’t left? You still love him?”
“I’m not sure. I’m not really sure of anything these days.”
Brandon glanced at my mouth, breaking the spell and reminding me of my weakness.
“I should probably go,” I said, getting up from the couch.
He peered up at me, his elbows still resting on his knees, with a small smirk curling his lips. “Am I scaring you?”
I moved one of my hands to my purse strap, resisting the urge to fidget in front of him. “No. Why would I be scared?”
“Because I’m asking you questions you don’t want to answer. Because I’m looking at you like I want to fuck you on my couch.”
My lips parted, and I sucked in a breath. What did he just say?
Brandon chuckled and leaned back, draping his tattooed arm across the back cushions. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m pretty sure I made my interest clear the other night.”
I snapped my mouth shut, trying to hide my shock, before responding, “Well, as romantic and charming as that sounds, I’m afraid that won’t be happening.”
“Ah, so you are afraid,” he said with a grin.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I shook my head and turned toward the door. It was obvious he was goading me.
“Thanks for the weed.” I called behind me as I walked away.
I was suddenly very aware of the tight jeans I had on and the view he was getting of my ass.
I opened his front door, and as I stepped out, he replied, “Call me when you’re ready for more.”
As I walked into my house, my mind was more occupied with Brandon and his proposal than Derek and his cheating. I’d spent the last nine years off the market, and although I still technically was, it was flattering to know that someone like Brandon was attracted to me. I was sure he’d been with plenty of women who were more than willing to succumb to his charms. He probably said things like that to women all the time, but I was thankful for the escape. It was nice to think of something else for a while, to imagine a different life for myself.
I dropped my purse down on the dining room table and pe
ered up at the photo framed on the wall in front of me. It was a picture of Derek and me at our first Marine Corps ball. He was in his dress blues. I loved that uniform. I remembered feeling like a princess as I’d stood next to him in my black ball gown. I’d thought I’d found everything I’d ever wanted, but as time had gone on, fantasy had given way to reality.
“Okay! Who’s next?” Colonel Lewis asked as he took his seat next to his wife.
We were at his house for his annual game night. Every year, he’d invite all his officers and their wives over for a night of “fun and relaxation.” Those had been his exact words. Only, I hadn’t been having fun, and I was far from relaxed.
“I’ll go,” Derek said, standing up and smiling at the woman he’d been talking to all night.
That woman wasn’t me.
She blushed, her eyes quickly going to the floor, before anyone noticed.
But I had noticed. Everyone had.
She and Derek had been blatantly flirting with each other since she arrived. I couldn’t say I blamed her. She was single, and Derek was charming and handsome. They both seemed to have forgotten that he was also married.
Derek took his card and stood in front of the dry erase board with a marker in his hand, his eyes never meeting mine once. I sat on the Colonel’s fancy white couch, feeling mortified. I couldn’t stand to look at anyone, knowing I’d only be met with pitying glances from the other wives.
Oddly enough, I had been spending the entire night convincing myself that I was the problem. Maybe if I looked more like her or maybe if I were a social butterfly, my husband wouldn’t need to resort to flirting with other women.
Funny what desperation made you believe.
I was already feeling insignificant in my marriage, insignificant in my own life, and that night only confirmed it. Something shifted deep inside me, and I knew things would never be the same.
I was well into my fourth or fifth drink when Derek came home and found me sitting on the kitchen floor, all of our old pictures scattered around me. I had been looking for the clues that I’d missed—a deceptive look in his eyes, a scowl on his face, anything to make me feel less crazy.
“What are you doing?” Derek asked, his boots stopping on the edge of my sanity.
“I’m just looking,” I muttered as I tossed another picture and picked one up. Then, I tossed it, picked up another, and tossed that one.
“Looking for what?”
I couldn’t find one, not one picture where he didn’t look happy. He was a liar. Our love, all of it was a lie. The rage came fast, and I started ripping and tearing everything within reach. I hated my life. I hated these faces. I hated the dumb, stupid woman staring back at me.
“Hey. Hey.” Derek’s hands wrapped around my shoulders, and he lifted me to my feet.
I was crying. When did I start crying? I dropped the photo in my hands and held on to Derek’s collar. His eyes were so worried, so concerned, for the crazy woman in his arms.
I laughed as my chest heaved, and my tears came faster. “We’re a fucking joke, aren’t we?”
His jaw tightened, and so did his grip on my arms. “You need to sober up. How much did you drink, Penny?”
I laughed some more as my head fell back, and my tears slid into my ears.
“Come on.” Derek pulled me toward our bathroom, my stumbling feet following after him.
He filled a plastic cup with water and handed it to me. “Drink this.”
I didn’t move.
“Come on, drink it.”
I took it and drank it all before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and tossing the cup into the sink.
“Did you ever really love me, Derek?” I whispered as I stared at the camouflage in front of me.
“Of course I did. I still do love you.”
I lifted my gaze to meet his, desperate to believe him. “Then, show me.”
“What?”
“Show me how much you love me, Derek. Convince me. Because I don’t believe you.”
I was so desperate to feel the spark that had once brought us together, to feel anything. He didn’t move, so I took a step closer and reached out to touch the back of his head, his soft hair grazing my fingers. Lifting myself onto my toes, I leaned forward and kissed his warm lips. I could feel his chest moving faster, but he didn’t touch me back. I needed him to touch me. I needed someone to. Pulling him closer, I kissed him harder, urging him to prove himself.
Pushing away, Derek separated us. Seconds of uncertainty passed as his eyes searched mine, and I let them. Just as doubt began to creep back into me, Derek leaned down and stole my breath with a frantic kiss. His arms wrapped around my body, and his hands roamed, trying to touch everything at once. His movements were rushed and frenzied…desperate. And so were mine. I needed him to love me. I kissed him back, tightly holding on to what little we had left.
“God, I love you,” he murmured as he kissed my neck, my cheeks, and my chest.
Derek picked me up and carried me to our bed, ripping my clothes off as fast as he could. I lay there, a calm washing over me, as he struggled to prove himself, to prove his love. He took my nipple into his warm mouth, sucking, as he positioned himself between my legs. I stared at the ceiling as hope seeped from the wounds in my heart, and he kissed down my stomach.
Derek paused long enough to toss his shirt aside and unbutton his pants before he was kissing my skin again. I closed my eyes, wanting things to be the way they had been, waiting for something that never came.
He pulled my panties off my legs before thrusting himself deep inside me. He gasped, and I sighed. I could feel his breath against my face, and I knew he was watching me.
“Look at me, Penny.” He pulled out and pressed himself back in.
I did, and for the first time, I could finally see. Derek’s hungry eyes stared down at me, his hips thrusting, his body taking a part of mine. There was no connection. He was just a man anxiously trying to hold on to something that was no longer his. And I thought he saw it, too.
He dropped his head and murmured, “Come back to me, baby. I love you. Please, come back to me,” as he continued fucking me.
For a few minutes, the room stopped spinning, and my vision was clear. I saw us for who we really were, and it broke my heart all over again. Derek was not the one I’d been waiting for. I was just the one he’d chosen.
His hands gripped my shoulders, and I stared at the soft brown hair on his head as he grunted and came inside me.
In that moment, I knew we were over.
Maybe Derek did love me…in his own way.
But he didn’t love me enough, and he never would.
Love was not cut and dry, never black or white.
If someone had asked me nine years ago if I could love someone who had cheated on me and broken my heart, I would have easily said no. I probably would have judged a woman for staying in a situation like mine for so long, but now that I was in it, I realized how blinding love could be. Derek’s betrayal couldn’t erase our past, only our future. The past was always there, lurking.
I stood in front of my mirror as the butterflies in my stomach competed with the fear in my heart. I finished applying my mascara and stepped back to look at myself. I looked different already. I’d spent the entire day trying to decide what to wear on this date while telling myself it didn’t matter. I would go out with Derek and realize he was a douche bag, and then I’d go on with my lonely life.
Just one date.
I straightened my back, ignored the butterflies, and held my chin up high.
“You have everything you need. You don’t need a man.”
My mother’s words echoed in my mind right before Derek’s hand knocked on my door. Glancing one more time at my white sundress, I went to answer it.
When I opened the door, he was standing there in jeans and a black shirt. It was so simple but instantly made things complicated. He looked exactly how I’d hoped he wouldn’t.
“Wow. You look b
eautiful,” he said, pulling out a single red rose from behind his back.
I smiled as I took it from him. “Thank you.”
He didn’t move, so I looked up into his eyes as a smile crept onto his lips. He was looking at me like he’d just discovered a diamond in the rough, like I was a prize to be won and he was ready to fight for it.
“I know you agreed to this date to get rid of me, but trust me, Penelope, this is just the beginning. I don’t plan on stopping until you’re mine.”
I woke up the next morning with an uneasy stomach and a resolved heart. Derek and I were over. It was both liberating and terrifying to come to that realization.
Last night, Derek had taken a shower and gone to the guest room to sleep after we’d had sex. We hadn’t spoken. We hadn’t needed to. It had become painfully obvious that the fire that had once brought us together was running out of substance to burn.
Derek had already left for work by the time I showered and came out of the bedroom. I skipped my Xanax again, and after my behavior the night before, I was determined to leave the vodka alone, too. If I was going to make the right choices, I needed to keep a clear head.
I sat down with a cup of coffee and my laptop. I hadn’t checked my email or Facebook account in a long time. Taking a sip, I clicked on my email and was notified I had over a hundred unread messages. It was all junk, so I made my way through the list, clicking on the trash can icon as I went. When I finished, I closed my email account and opened Facebook.
I had an unread message from my sister, Liz.
Hey, sis! How have you been? I haven’t heard from you in a while. I’m still working long hours at the station, but I think I might be getting another promotion soon! ☺ I miss you. Call me sometime.
Liz worked at the local television station back home in Fresno, California. She’d gone to college and earned a degree in communications. She was thirty-two and single. I envied her more than I wanted to admit.
I sat there, staring at her message, wondering if I should call her, when I noticed a friend request notification. I clicked on it.
