I shook my head. “I know. It’s okay.”
“God,” she moaned, covering her face with her hand.
“Birdie, it’s fine. Seriously. We’re good.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Nah. Look, we can’t be afraid to say things. That’s life.” I shrugged. She removed her hand from her face and gave me an apologetic look. “Stop it. It’s all good.”
“You sure? Again, I’m sorry.”
I nodded. “We’re good.” Jesus. I’d turned into a sensitive little bitch. “I was wondering if we could exchange numbers? You know, because I was kinda worried about you tonight when you weren’t there at first. This way, you could, you know, text me and let me know?”
Her discerning look made me think she’d decline, but she reached for her purse, getting her phone out and we added each other’s numbers.
“How’d your week go?” I asked, putting my phone back in my jacket pocket.
She lifted a shoulder. “About the same. Mason comes home, we eat then he runs off to ‘the office’ which means he goes to see Maci.”
I gazed at her dumbfounded. How a man could cheat on a woman as beautiful and sweet as she was, I hadn’t a clue. “That’s fucked up, Birdie.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my life.”
I shook my head then took a bite of pie. “And you’re doing okay?”
She set her fork on her plate, picked up her mug taking a sip, then looked me straight in the eyes. “Are you doing okay?”
I scratched my jaw. “Yeah.”
“Uh huh.”
“What? I am,” I confirmed.
She gave me a mollified look. “How’d your week go?”
She knew me. Knew I was bullshitting. How the hell she did, I don’t know, but she did. Well, it was probably because she was going through just as much shit as I was.
“Work was good,” I declared.
“And everything else?” she asked gently.
I let out a breath. “I’m having a tough time with the cheating thing.”
“Yeah,” she answered softly, in complete understanding.
“I mean, how the fuck do you bounce back from that?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Maybe you and I should have an affair and show them how it feels.” The minute I said it, I knew I’d fucked up.
She frowned then pushed her plate away. Then grabbing her purse off the back of the chair she stammered, “I—I need to go.” She placed a ten on the table.
“Birdie, I was kidding. I—” I said standing.
“It’s fine. I know you were. I, uh, just need to get home. Thanks again for the pie and coffee.”
Shit!
By the time I paid at the register, she was gone.
Chapter 15—Birdie
I didn’t mean to react like a crazy woman at what Beck had said, but it had totally thrown me off. I mean, I thought I’d found someone I could confide in and his saying that had definitely caught me off guard.
He was a good-looking man, and I couldn’t imagine what could’ve possessed his wife to cheat on him. Well, drugs, yeah, but since I’d never been addicted to anything, I guess I didn’t understand the extent to which people would go to get their fix. She must’ve been really bad.
But to be honest, I was actually ashamed that his idea hadn’t sounded all that bad.
God. I was so going to hell.
Then my brain became the devil’s advocate reminding me that Mason was screwing around on me, so why not?
“God. What are you thinking?” I groaned dropping my forehead into my palm.
“Pardon?” the cabbie asked.
I looked up. “Nothing. Sorry.”
When I got back to the apartment, Mason was sitting on the couch.
“Hey,” I said, surprised to see him home.
He looked up at me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry about everything, Birdie.”
I frowned. I mean, what else could I do? Not like one apology was going to fix everything.
“Yeah, well, I am too,” I replied.
“You’re really going to hate me.”
My first thought? Like I could hate him more. But that was the thing. I didn’t hate him. I wanted to. I just couldn’t. He was dying. He was going for the gusto, as they say. I just happened to have been the casualty of his screwed-up decisions.
“What is it?” I asked, bracing myself as I felt the blood leaving my face.
“It’s Maci. She’s…pregnant.”
And that’s when what was left of my heart dissolved into nothingness. Then my whole insides seemed to liquefy and I dropped to the floor, just plop!
Mason jumped up and came to me, going down on his knees. “I’m so sorry, honey. I—I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please forgive me.”
I looked at him through tear-filled eyes and taking a gasping breath, out of nowhere, slapped him.
After, we sat there on the floor staring at each other, me sobbing, him looking remorseful.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled over and over.
I didn’t say anything. Striking him had pretty much said all I’d wanted to tell him.
When I finally got my wits about me, after taking several deep breaths, I stood, pushing his hands off me when he tried to help, went to the kitchen and began making myself a sandwich. You know, because when your world falls completely apart, that’s the thing to do. I huffed out a laugh as I put the meat and cheese on the bread, because somewhere in the back of my stupid, stupid mind, I’d actually thought he was going to tell me he’d come to his senses and was leaving Maci. That he’d realized his mistake and wanted me back. But now, figuring that was never going to happen, I announced offhandedly, “You’re moving out,” turning to look at him as I sucked a bit of mustard off my thumb.
He was standing, gazing at me in shock, the hurt and dismay apparent on his face which pissed me right the hell off. I mean, Jesus H. and all! I was the one who kept getting hurt here!
“You can move in with Maci,” I declared glibly with a shrug of my shoulders before taking a bite of my sandwich.
And as I watched the emotions pass over his face, it was at that moment that I let go. It became clear to me that Mason was just a man. He wasn’t the man I’d held so highly above others. No, he was just another person who, after realizing he was going to die, had acted selfishly and gone after what he wanted. And that was okay. I got it.
And in letting go, it hit me that I was going to be okay.
“I—I still want you in my life, Birdie.”
“Well, I do have power of attorney, Mase.”
He let out a chuckle. “That you do.”
I leaned a hip against the counter. “You sure you don’t want a divorce? So you can marry…Maci?” Well, that was a little tough to say. Guess I still harbored a little bitterness.
He sighed. “No.” At my frown, he continued. “I love you. I know you don’t think I do, but I do.” When I started to protest, he cut me off, shaking his head. “It all sounds ridiculous. But I love you. I don’t know what happened, how all this other shit got in the way, but you’ve always been it for me.” He took a tentative step toward me.
“I thought you were it for me too, Mase, but now I see that’s not true.” I set my unfinished sandwich down and walked out of the kitchen past him.
“Don’t be upset, Birdie.”
I turned and faced him. “Indifferent, Mason. I’m indifferent. That’s all I am. Please get your things and leave.” I took my coat from the hook and pulled it on.
“Where are you going?”
“Mom and Dad’s for a couple hours. Please be gone when I get back.”
Just before I closed the door, I heard him say, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter 16—Beck
I’d stopped by the hospital to check on Sonya. Gina was back in town but had been gone by the time I’d gotten there. But Sonya had been asleep and all seemed well, so I headed back to the apartment.<
br />
After grabbing a beer from the fridge, I sat at the bar, scrolling through my phone wondering if I should text Birdie and apologize again. As I stared at her name, my phone suddenly dinged with an incoming text from her.
Text Message—Thurs, Oct 20, 10:34 p.m.
Birdie: Beck?
I smiled as I typed back.
Text Message—Thurs, Oct 20, 10:34 p.m.
Me: Yes, ma’am. Look, I’m really sorry about tonight…
I was taking a drink when another message came in.
Birdie: Are you busy? Could I call?
I frowned as I texted back a “Yes” and when my phone rang not thirty seconds later, I wondered if she was going to yell at me.
“Hey. What’s up?” I answered cautiously.
“She’s pregnant. The woman Mason’s been seeing.” I heard her sniff and knew she’d been crying.
“Aw, honey, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” It was a dumb question, but what else could be said.
I heard her chuckle through her sniffles. “Surprisingly, I think I am. I asked him to move out.”
I nodded. “Good. That’s probably good.”
“Yeah,” she answered quietly. We sat there in silence for a moment, as I listened to her snuffling a little. “How do things get so screwed up?” she finally asked.
I let out a breath. “I don’t know, Birdie. If I had the answers, I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in.”
“I just don’t understand. I feel like I’m not even me. Like I’m watching this all play out as another person, you know? Like an out-of-body experience.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ weird. Maybe it’s our mind’s way of keeping us from hurting more or something. Maybe if we were too ‘here’ the pain would be too much. Fuck. I don’t know.”
“That makes sense. Yeah. Because I swear, my heart is about as smushed as it’s gonna get, and if that wasn’t the case before, well, it is now.”
“I’m really sorry about everything you’re going through.”
“Thanks. And I’m sorry for you too,” she stated.
“Thanks.” I paused for a moment before asking, “So, Bernadette Chapman, other than the fact that your life is falling apart, what else is new?”
She let out a deep belly laugh and it was a beautiful sound. I pictured her throwing her head back as she did and it made me smile.
“That’s funny,” she said, still giggling.
Looking back, and although I didn’t mean for it to happen, I think that was probably the moment I fell just a little for her. There she was, her husband dying of a brain tumor—who’d just told her he was having a baby with another woman—and I’d made her laugh. Not a lot of people could withstand the woes she was dealing with and still find something funny.
“Yeah, well, you’ve gotta laugh, right? The alternative is being curled up in a ball in a corner, huh?” I claimed.
She chuckled. “I guess so.”
“So tell me where you work and what you do,” I inquired.
We talked for two hours. I learned she was an only child like I was and that she’d grown up in pretty much the same way—upper-middle-class family with much of the same values. Her favorite color was magenta, at which I’d laughed and gone on to ruffle her a bit when I’d asked if she’d meant to say pink. But I’d quickly learned there was a difference. Who knew? She told me she’d wavered between going into accounting or meteorology. That had surprised me, and I’d made her laugh more when I’d informed her she’d have made a hot weather girl. We’d also talked about Sonya and Mason. Birdie had allowed me to get pissed when I shared some things, and so far, she’d been the only one who really got why I was so mad. I told her Sonya and I hadn’t had sex since before her rehab stint and the thought of her fucking two other guys was really wearing on me. She’d shared that she and Mason hadn’t slept together in over a month, yet he’d found the time to get another woman pregnant.
“Oh, my gosh! It’s after midnight!” she’d all but yelled, making me pull the phone from my ear as I lay in bed.
“Yep,” I’d acknowledged.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you this long.”
I chuckled. “It’s okay, Birdie. I’ve really enjoyed talking to you.”
“Well, obviously, I have too or I wouldn’t have kept yammering on!”
“There was no yammering going on here. I’ve loved every second of it,” I told her because I had.
“I have too. Thank you for listening to me, Beck.”
“Anytime, Birdie. Try to have a great day tomorrow. You’ve got my number if you need me, okay?” I reminded.
“Thank you. And same goes for you. Good night.”
“’Night, honey.”
I slept like a baby that night.
Chapter 17—Birdie
I was late to work the next day.
To be fair, it wasn’t because I’d lost sleep from talking so long with Beck. Mason had shown up at the apartment the next morning and wanted to talk. Again. I’d told him I had a meeting but he’d guilted me into calling work to let them know I’d be late. He’d next proceeded to beg me to take him back, that he’d made a huge mistake.
Let me just take a timeout here to make an observation: Why is it that when you want something to happen—I’m talking praying, begging, pleading with God to make it happen, because believe me, I did all those trying to get the stupid universe to listen and bring Mason back—it only takes place when you no longer want it? But now here Mason was, doing exactly what I’d implored whatever higher power who was willing to listen to me to do…he was just doing it too late.
After sucking in a shuddering breath, I’d closed my eyes then told him he’d made his choice, he needed to be a man about things, and I was good with the way things were.
Surprisingly, I’d actually meant it, which had felt kind of…good.
He’d cried.
I’d cried too.
It was the ending of us which had made me truly sad.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I still loved him. It’s just that when you’re hit left and right with the crap that had been thrown at me in such a short amount of time, it changes things.
It changes…you.
But things had been changing from the moment he’d told me about Maci.
So, although I may still have loved him, I could feel myself falling out of love with him.
When I’d glanced at the clock and told him I really needed to go, he’d given me a hug and it’d been gut-wrenching. We both cried again and I’d second-guessed myself.
Could we make this work?
In a span of a moment, I pictured myself by his bedside as he died. Then I’d seen myself being there when Maci had the baby. Next, I’d envisioned myself helping an energetic little boy ride a bike, a boy who had Mase’s nose, or a sweet girl who was missing a tooth, giving me her daddy’s crooked smile as she skipped rope.
If he and I were together, Maci would be left on her own until he was gone and that wasn’t fair to her. It also wasn’t fair to me because then I’d feel obligated to be a part of the child’s life, his child.
And that’s when I’d broken the hug. I knew it was selfish, but this was all the bottom line for me.
I’d loved him with everything I’d had and he’d betrayed me. And if I was going to be a part of a child’s life, it would be my decision, not because I felt it was required of me.
“I don’t want a divorce, Birdie,” he said suddenly, a pleading look on his face.
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you saying this because you don’t want me to find someone else?”
He looked puzzled when he frowned. Then he whispered, “You’d find someone else?”
I huffed out a droll chuckle. Unbelievable. “I have to go,” I stated with a shake of my head. As I put my coat on, I turned and said, “Please keep in contact and let me know how you’re doing.”
Then I’d walked out.
At work, I’d met with my supervisor who’d go
ne over the meeting, telling me the ERM (enterprise risk management) presentation had been a hit. I was pissed because I’d been the one who’d created the ERM portfolio and was supposed to have presented it, but Mason had taken care of that by detaining me. After I’d sulked around for a bit, I’d started my workday, still grumbling about missing the meeting, but whatever.
Then a text had come in:
Text Message—Fri, Oct 21, 2:23 p.m.
Beck: Hey!
I think my smile almost broke my face.
Text Message—Fri, Oct 21, 2:23 p.m.
Me: Hey back!
Beck: You find that missing penny yet? ;)
Me: No, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know (and I won’t tell you where to put it) ;)
I snorted as I hit “send” then panicked, hoping he’d see I was joking.
Beck: LMAO Oookay. So, you busy tonight? I know it’s Friday & all…
Phew. Hm. Was I busy?
Me: What do you have in mind?
Beck: Well…it IS the Hard Cider Festival & all…
I chuckled. Mason and I had gone to a couple bars this time last year for cider and cheese-tasting. I waited for my stomach to bottom out at the memory and the sadness to hit. When it didn’t, I texted back.
Me: ONLY if I get awesome cheese too
Beck: Honey, I wouldn’t deny you that. EVER.
At first I’d been a little taken aback at his calling me honey but now realized it was probably just the way he was. I still couldn’t deny the small thrill it sent through me, though. Hm.
Me: Thank God…okay, when & where?
Beck: Lucy’s Whey on Lexington. 7?
Me: See you then!
Beck: Great! See ya!
I sat back in my chair and smiled. That is until the guilt hit me and I had to ask myself if I’d just made a date with a married man. Nah. This was harmless. We were two people who were hurting and could help each other. That was all.
Right?
Chapter 18—Beck
Thursdays (The Wait Book 1) Page 8
