Thursdays (The Wait Book 1)

by Harper Bentley

  “There’s a bar called Curly’s across the street from my hotel. Sound good?”

  “I know it. See you in thirty minutes.”

  Inside Sonya’s room, I saw that she and Gina were watching some chick TV show.

  “Hey, honey,” Sonya called when I came in. “How’d the meeting go?”

  I walked to her bed and bent to kiss her forehead then standing, told her, “It was good. Hey, Paul called. He’s in town so I’m gonna meet him at a bar. I’ll be back after while, okay?”

  “Oh. Well…” Sonya began.

  Gina cut in. “You go have fun with your friend, Beck. Don’t worry about coming back until tomorrow. We’re good.” She looked at Sonya. “Aren’t we, honey?”

  The good thing about having Gina stay in town was that she was there to be with Sonya which gave me breaks every now and then and she didn’t try making me feel guilty for needing that time. The fact that she’d also declined staying at the apartment since she had a best friend who lived not too far away and was staying with her was also nice.

  Sonya nodded when I glanced at her with raised eyebrows making sure she was okay with my leaving.

  “Tell Paul I said hi,” she whispered, ducking her head in embarrassment as she picked at something on the blanket.

  I bent down and put a finger under her chin lifting her face to mine. “Hey. Paul loves you. He understands, okay? There’s no judgment, baby.” She swallowed hard then nodded. After touching my lips to hers, I said, “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  I left her room, took the elevator down, got a cab and headed to the bar for a much-needed break, even though I felt like an asshole for leaving.

  “Good to see you,” I said when I saw Paul, shaking his hand and giving him a one-armed hug.

  “You too. It’s been too long, Beck.”

  The waitress came by and took my order then I looked at Paul. “I’m having a tough time.”

  “What’s going on?”

  I told him about the transplant ending with the possible infidelity of my wife.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled.

  I was on my second whiskey and held my glass up to the waitress, requesting another. “Yeah. Dad told me to wait until she’s better to talk to her about it, but it’s the only fucking thing on my mind. Jesus. My wife’s on a heart transplant list but all I can think about is whether she fucked another man.”

  Paul shrugged. “I understand, man. If Taylor sprang that shit on me, I’d be out of my head too.” He ordered another scotch when the waitress brought my drink.

  “You were me, what would you do?” I asked, stalling a moment as I took a sip. “I mean, I love her, of course, but shit, this changes things.”

  He grabbed a handful of peanuts and popped them into his mouth. As he chewed, he answered, “Taylor and I both know it’s a deal breaker. You fucking cheat on me for any reason, I’m out. Same goes for her. I mean, I love her. I’m gonna marry her someday, but if she cheated, I doubt we could move forward.”

  “Yeah.” I sat staring into the bottom of my glass through the amber liquid wondering if I could move forward if this nightmare became an eventual reality. “Oh. I’m now going to grief counseling.”

  “What?”

  I chuckled. “Sonya’s aunt suggested it.”

  “Why?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “She thought I needed something to help with my feelings.”

  “You have feelings?” Paul barked out a laugh as did I.

  “I know, dude. Who the fuck knew?”

  We sat in companionable silence for a moment before he questioned, “You think it’ll help?”

  “Can’t hurt.”

  “Yeah.”

  After getting all that out of the way, we talked about med school and how he was doing, my job, what some of our buddies from baseball had been up to including one who was in the pros, both of us lamented the fact that neither of our teams had made the World Series, then discussed plans to meet up again soon.

  By the time we left, I’d had enough alcohol to deaden my brain, and it felt great not having to think about anything on the cab ride back to the apartment.

  And when I lay down to go to bed and started jacking off, the whiskey almost kept me from feeling guilty when thoughts of Birdie crept into my head.

  Almost.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 11—Birdie

  Mason sat grinning down at his phone when I got home.

  “What’re you smirking at?” I asked, not helping the smile I now wore at seeing him so happy for a change. His surgery had been scheduled in a month, and he needed some good in his life.

  “Nothing,” he answered as he got up from the couch. “But I need to go out for a bit. Gotta run by the office. Think I picked up a new client.” He kissed me in passing as he grabbed his coat from the rack. “I’ll be back soon.” As he pulled on his coat, he turned and looked back at me, “Oh. How’d it go?”

  “It was okay. I like Charles, the guy who leads the group. How long are you gonna be gone?” I frowned. He’d been going out several times for the past couple weeks which worried me.

  “I’ll be home before you know it.” He winked before going out the door.

  “Huh,” I uttered as I stared at the door.

  I hated for him to go out by himself but the first couple times I’d complained, he’d gotten angry, telling me I wasn’t his mother. I knew this, but still couldn’t help my uneasy feelings. What if he got a headache and passed out? Or worse?

  God. I was only twenty-four but felt ancient.

  I grabbed my phone and called Jaden to whine a little.

  “I’m so glad you called!” she screeched into the phone making me pull it away from my ear. “You have to go out with me tonight! Evan doesn’t want to go and I need you to go!”

  I chuckled. “Where?”

  “A new club!”

  “Nooooo,” I groaned. All I wanted to do at this point was change into my comfy pj’s, watch bad reality TV then go to bed.

  “Please? Bird, it’s Ladies Night and we get three free drinks! You need a break!”

  Ugh. I so didn’t want to, but Jaden had been so supportive since we found out about Mase and she was my best friend, so I gave in. Plus, having a few drinks actually sounded kind of good.

  “Can I wear what I wore to work?” I asked with a sigh looking down at my crumpled suit.

  “What do you have on?” she questioned suspiciously. After telling her, she remarked, “If you’ll put on that sparkly tank underneath the jacket, you’re good to go!”

  “You owe me,” I muttered before hanging up.

  “You look hot!” Jaden yelled over the heart-thumping music that was pounding from the speakers in the club. We were standing at one of several bars in the place that surrounded a huge dance floor where people were gyrating their hearts out.

  “You too!” I hollered back. She had on a sleeveless, emerald satin blouse, that looked great with her red hair, and a sparkly silver miniskirt. She was average height but the way she carried herself somehow made her seem taller. “You look like a model! I can’t believe Evan let you wear that without him here!”

  She turned and grinned. “I had to promise he’d get a piece of me when I get home!”

  She’d met Evan in college where they’d both studied law. She’d ended up changing her major to interior design and after decorating the penthouse of a New York City councilwoman, she’d picked up several more accounts after the councilwoman had recommended her to a few of her friends. Jaden’s business was so kickass, I teased that by the time she found the time or when I could even afford for her to decorate my home, I’d be eighty.

  We got our drinks and found a small corner table in the crazy place.

  “Remember that club we got into when we were seventeen?” she asked over the music. I nodded as I sipped through my straw. “The Menace was there and got into a fight with Lori Saunders who tore out her exten
sions! Best night ever!” Jaden giggled which had me doing the same. “Finish that so we can go dance!” she instructed, nodding toward my drink.

  I obeyed her order and the next thing I knew, we were on the dance floor and having a blast. We’d made up a routine years before during college which we were now performing, getting several hoots and hollers from the men surrounding us. Let’s just say it was a bit dirty, especially the part where I squatted to the floor, doing that quick stripper knees coming apart move, then as I went to stand, bending at the waist, legs going straight, and slowly dragging my hands up my thighs, Jaden would smack my ass which always got some shouts. By the time we left the floor to get another drink I was laughing so hard I snorted.

  “Oh, my God. Works every time,” she said as we headed to another bar area.

  “Men are so easy,” I agreed still laughing.

  I was having a blast. It felt so good to be out not having to think of what was going on in my life. After our third complimentary drink, we headed back to the floor for more naughtiness which was even easier with alcohol in my system. She’d just performed a grind on my leg when the music changed to a slow song.

  “Ugh. Time to get off the floor,” she grumbled, turning as I followed. But when she came up short, I ran right into her back. “Oh shit.”

  “What?” I asked, looking around her and trying to see why she’d stopped.

  “Come on,” she said, turning back to me grabbing my hand and pulling me in the other direction.

  I wrenched my hand from hers. “What is it, Jade?” I asked, moving back from where we’d come.

  Then I was stopped in my tracks upon seeing Mason slow dancing with another woman. A cute, petite blond woman who was gazing up at him as if he hung the moon.

  “What the fuck?” I asked, feeling Jaden at my shoulder. Thank God she was there at that moment to hold me up because I think I would’ve collapsed to the floor otherwise.

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Let’s go.”

  I turned my head to her. “If that was Evan, you’d just leave?”

  “Hell no.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I stood watching them for a moment hating that I’d been brought up in an upper-middle-class home. I so wished I’d been raised by a trashy family who beat the ever-loving shit out of people when they’d been wronged.

  I also wished I’d been born without a heart which at the moment was being ripped into a million pieces.

  “There must be an explanation,” I heard Jaden whisper.

  I didn’t know how any of it could be explained. And all I could do was stare.

  “Go,” Jaden finally said, pushing me toward them.

  I reached back and grabbed her hand making her come with me because I was afraid that somewhere down the line maybe I did have trashy ancestors, and I didn’t trust myself not to knock the shit out of both of them.

  When I got to them, it took a few seconds before Mason realized he was being watched. Then his eyes got huge as he dropped his hands from Ms. Teeny Tiny’s waist.

  “Birdie…” he uttered, a startled look on his face. “It’s not what you th—”

  I swallowed hard and cut him off. “Then what is it, Mase?” And, damn it, that’s when the tears came. I watched as the diminutive woman stepped into him, putting an arm behind his waist all possessive-like and that’s when I lost it. “What is it, Mase!” I screamed.

  I didn’t hear his answer because I turned and pushed my way through the crowd not caring as the people cried out Hey! and Watch it! And it wasn’t until I got outside the club that I noticed I still had Jaden’s hand in mine.

  “Oh my God, honey. I’m so sorry,” she said when I latched onto her, a complete sobbing mess.

  “Birdie!” I heard Mason yell and turned to see him making his way toward me.

  Jaden suddenly wrenched open a waiting cab’s door and pushed me into the backseat, following me inside giving the driver my address before she yelled, “Go!"

  The driver took off, wheels spinning, which probably would’ve made me snort at any other time because it was all so Hollywood “B” movie’ish. The only thing I found myself doing, though, was still fucking crying.

  “It’ll be okay, sweetie,” Jaden said, her arm around me as I blubbered against her shoulder.

  How any of it was going to be okay was beyond me. My dying husband was having an affair. We hadn’t even been married for two years!

  I thought I’d hit my low point in Dr. Isaac’s office that day, but, oh, how wrong I’d been.

  This. This was about as low as it got.

  And I didn’t see any way it could ever get any better.

  Chapter 12—Beck

  “We need to talk,” I informed Sonya the next night.

  I knew my dad had told me to wait, but I couldn’t let it go any longer.

  Since Sonya’s Uncle Roger had come to town and he and Gina were out, it couldn’t have been a better time in my eyes.

  “About?” Sonya asked from her bed. She turned the TV off and I noticed she wore a new nightgown. After questioning her about it, she explained that Gina had done some shopping. “She also snuck me in some Ghirardelli chocolates, but don’t tell Dr. Schmidt.” She giggled as she pushed back the top of her tray revealing a shiny gold bag.

  I chuckled. “Jell-O just doesn’t get the job done, huh?”

  She smiled, still giggling. “Not in the least.”

  I sat back in the chair and let out a sigh, torn between going forward with the conversation or letting it alone. But I knew I needed to know, had to know, so I could move forward in some semblance of any fucking direction because I’d felt stagnant for so long I was going crazy. Drawing in a breath I declared, “I don’t want you to get upset, okay? This is something that’s been weighing heavily on my mind, Sonya.”

  She frowned. “What is it, honey?”

  I glanced at the heart monitor by her bed to see that the beeps were steady. “I don’t want a fight.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, and I figured she knew what was coming since her eyes had filled with tears.

  “On the way to rehab, you said you…you said you’d slept with men for drugs.” Her monitor sped up a bit which wasn’t what I was wanting. “We can work this out. I just have to know.” My eyes watched her carefully, my ears alert to the blips coming from the machine. “Did you sleep with anyone after we were married?”

  I watched her for a couple minutes then two big tears coursed down her cheeks and she nodded.

  Fuck.

  Fuck!

  As calmly as I could, I asked, “How many?”

  She sucked in a shattered breath and replied, “T-two.”

  Jesus fucking Christ!

  It was my turn to suck in a breath. “Two,” I murmured.

  I now wanted to tear the room apart. Wanted to throw every fucking thing in it out the goddamned window. But I somehow remained calm, gritting the hell out of my teeth and breathing in through my nose.

  Keeping my voice low, I confirmed, “You slept with two men. After we were married.”

  The monitor started beating faster when she whimpered, “I didn’t mean to, Beck! I know it was wrong! But I didn’t know what to do!” She dropped her head and cried into her hands.

  “Calm down,” I muttered.

  I let her cry as my insides twisted making me think I was going to throw up. Breathing in deeply through my nose again, I leaned forward, clasping my hands between my knees and stared at them.

  My wife had taken two other men inside her. For drugs. She’d been living a double life our entire marriage.

  “I—I’m s-so sorry,” she moaned.

  My eyes went to her and the hatred I felt for her at that moment scared me.

  Could I stay by this woman’s side after what she’d just confessed?

  Her sobbing went on for a full ten minutes while I sat questioning whether things could ever be repaired between us.

  You love her, it can be fixe
d, I heard Dad saying.

  I did love her. But could it be fixed?

  That’s what I didn’t know.

  After our talk, my life became a blur of going to work in the morning, stopping by the hospital after, going home and eating whatever was easiest to prepare, going to bed and getting up and doing it all over again.

  I was twenty-four years old yet felt as if I were a hundred.

  I was tired, I was hurt, and I was pissed.

  I tried not thinking too much about things because it just enhanced my problems, so I stayed in a weird, latent zone from which I could function properly but not feel anything. When I went to see Sonya, I stayed positive, not letting her know how I felt so as not to upset her. Gina commented that I seemed to be doing better, that the grief counseling must be helping—I’d only been the one time—but I agreed, hiding every negative emotion behind a plastered-on fake-as-hell smile.

  I wanted to tell her I was coasting. That I’d pushed every thing down deep inside for my unfaithful wife’s benefit, but, oh, yeah, I was doing just fine, thank you very much.

  Thursday evening came and I found myself once again sitting in a chair at a big table across from Birdie. She wouldn’t look at me and I knew something was wrong. She’d mentioned her husband that day on the stairs, and it was then I realized I knew nothing about her which gave me a new focus.

  I was going to find out what her story was.

  “Welcome, everyone,” Charles said when he came into the room carrying a box. “I’ll give you a few moments to get some coffee or a snack then we’ll get started.”

  My eyes stayed on Birdie as several people got up and milled around the room. She kept her chair turned toward the front and away from me and her eyes on a spot on the carpet. Charles placed boxes on the table and when everyone had finally settled, he started talking, making the same introduction as the previous Thursday, telling everyone about his deceased wife and his reaction to it, before getting down to it.

  “I found that anger was the prevalent emotion during my grieving process,” he began. “I was mad at God, mad at the world and even, to my great surprise and shock, mad at my wife Virginia.”