Lies In Rewind

by Tali Alexander

  “Sara, he’ll never leave her. They’ve been married for years and they have kids, and you know who her parents are. He isn’t going anywhere.” She sounds sincere and I know she means well, but if she only knew the truth. When it comes to my heart, there are only two people who are in the know. It has always been that way and that is how it needs to always stay.

  “Emily, I know. I’ve had a front row seat to his life. I know what’s important to him… Anyway, can we drop this shit? What did you want to talk to me about?” I need this Jeff conversation to stop. Talking about him won’t change anything. I see the pity pass in Em’s narrowed eyes, and I don’t need her pity. I did this to myself.

  “I know I keep telling you this, but something great is waiting for you. ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ by Journey. You will find happiness even if it’s not with Jeffery Rossi.” Happiness without JJ is not happiness, it’s purgatory, and I know it all too well.

  “Okay, my optimistic BFF. It’s Friday, I have the day off today, so spill the beans.” I need to hear someone else’s problems. I’m sure I’m about to hear an I-need-to-find-a-new-nanny story that in Emily’s world is the equivalent to mayday.

  Emily looks around the empty bar as if making sure the drunks don’t hear us, and whispers almost inaudibly, “I met a man while I was in St. Lucia running away from my overactive imagination.” I’m not sure I heard her right.

  “What?!” Okay, so maybe I keep misjudging my best friend. Clearly she’s not as innocent as I think she is. This should be interesting; drama that, surprisingly, doesn’t belong to me.

  “Just Can’t Get Enough” by Depeche Mode

  “Wait, I need to hear every fucking detail of this. If you think of leaving out even one nuance of what happened in St. Lucia, I’ll show Louis the video of our sixth grade talent show, where you sang ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ and did an interpretive dance.” Em doesn’t know, but I even had that video copied and downloaded on my laptop to make sure the priceless extortion jewel never gets lost.

  “You wouldn’t! You swore on a George Michael poster and a Wham cassette tape that you would never, ever show that video to anyone.” The look on Emily’s face is priceless. She really cares if someone sees that adorable video that I love.

  “I’m a lawyer, I lied.” I’m joking, but the truth is I’ve always lied. Anyway, this little bitch better tell me everything, and I mean everything, that happened in St. Lucia. I need someone else’s life to think about. My own life is not worth fiddly.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you everything, but this information does not leave this bar, got it?” She tries to scare me, which is a joke…Emily couldn’t scare a fly. I nod my head and she proceeds. “This is what happened; I arrived in Le Spa in St. Lucia, which was recommended to me by some random porter at the airport. So I clearly didn’t know where I was going.” Emily stops, takes in a few deep breaths.

  “Keep talking, you got to this spa place, hotel, whatever…then what happened?” I’m intrigued by where this story is going. My imagination conjures up images that need validation with Em’s words. Emily closes her eyes and I can see her quietly freaking out by the rapid breaths she takes. Something happened in St Lucia, and it wasn’t good.

  “I didn’t have a reservation and the manager was trying to help me. Sara, I thought it was over! I thought he left me! I saw Louis’ old asshole friend and then he walked out with that beautiful woman. He hadn’t touched me in months…and you see, the place was totally sold out. He felt bad for me and gave me his room.”

  What?! She must be on crack! I don’t understand half of what she’s mumbling about. “Who felt bad for you? What are you babbling about? Who gave you his room? Louis’ friend, or are you talking about the manager?” She didn’t make any sense.

  “God, Sara, just shut up and listen. Will, the manager—I mean, the owner of the hotel in St. Lucia—gave up his room for me. I was a mess; I got so drunk on the flight over that I didn’t know what planet I was on. When I got to the hotel in the morning, he just took pity on me. We started talking and I told him everything about what happened with Louis. My phone died, he gave me his cell to call home. Pam picked up and told me Louis didn’t come home. I didn’t know my husband didn’t come home because he had a goddamn heart attack! I thought he left me. This guy offered to help me forget about Louis and we got drunk.” She puts her head down on the table and I know she’s on the verge of crying. This story sounds nothing like the Emily I’ve known all my life. This story sounds like one of my lies. Em takes a few deep breaths and continues. “I don’t remember anything that happened after that point until I woke up half naked in bed with him.” My mouth opens and I’m truly shocked that Miss Prude USA ran away and ended up in someone else’s bed while her husband back home ran around the city trying to find her, eventually suffering a heart attack.

  I gather my emotions and ask, “With Will the manager, right?”

  “Right!” She nods. “I woke up in bed with Will Knight.”

  Holy fucking shit is all I can think. Holy fucking shit! “He has a hot name…is he hot?” I ask instinctively.

  “Sara, get your head out of your ass. Who cares if he’s hot? I fucked up!” Who cares if he’s hot translates into he’s not very hot. Emily getting all worked up is abso-fucken-lutely priceless. My day is actually getting much better.

  “Did you sleep with him?” God, of course she slept with him. She looks positively, one hundred percent guilty.

  “I slept in the same bed with him, but I had my panties on and he said we didn’t do it.” Well, if he said it then it must be true. I want to laugh at how absurd this whole story sounds, but she really does look worried and scared.

  “You believed him? Did he have his underwear on?” Hesitation followed by loss of eye contact translates into no underwear. “Okay, he was naked. Did he have a nice package?” This should completely throw her off-kilter.

  “Sara, are you for real right now?”

  “Yes, I’m for real. Don’t pretend like you didn’t check out the goods. I said every last detail and I meant it!” I will not relinquish that blackmail footage without mega details. I give her that I’m not fucking around look and she knows she’d better start singing.

  “Fine, what do you want to know?”

  Ha, I knew she’d cave. I want it all. “I want: length, width, color, proportion to scrotum, hair no hair, and circumcision status.” I also want to know how it felt and tasted, but we’ll get to that later…baby steps.

  “Sara, remind me again why we’re still friends?”

  “Because whatever I just asked was exactly what you were thinking the first time you saw Will’s willy. The only difference between you and me, besides your big tits, husband, and millions of dollars in the bank, is that I say out loud what you whisper inside. You need me to help you verbalize your thoughts.” Our relationship in a nutshell.

  “You forgot to mention that we’re the last two remaining ‘80s song whisperers on the planet.”

  “Yeah, who but you would know that me naming the actual artist as opposed to the band they were in at the time they sang the fucking song, is equivalent to SOS-‘my life is falling apart.’” Only Em would know that I know who sings every song that came out of the ‘80s. Obviously, if I said Sting instead of The Police sang “Every Breath You Take,” she would know that I’m in an alley somewhere stabbed and bleeding within an inch of my life.

  “Only because I love you, I will go off course and describe his package for you.” I’m as close to wagging my tale as humanly possible. “The man had a good-sized dick. It was thick, but I can’t tell you the exact length; he wasn’t really fully erect when I saw him naked. No hair, and nice, even coloring. He looked circumcised and he had the biggest balls I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many, but they were huge compared to Louis’.” Wow, I didn’t need the Louis comparison or the mental image I just got of her husband, but this guy sounds like a keeper.

  “Did you play with it?” I’m
sure she did.

  “Sara, this has gone too far. I didn’t start this conversation to talk about Will’s willy. I have bigger problems that I need you to help me with.” Maybe she’s pregnant with Will’s baby.

  “Fine, you never let me enjoy myself anyway. I just started getting a little wet; can’t you tell me a little more? Wait, Will! Does he have an accent? Like a British accent! No! Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. If a man is well hung, owns a hotel in St. Lucia, and has a British accent, I may have to go there myself to find him. I didn’t catch the name of that spa you mentioned, what was it again?”

  “Sara, he’s not in St. Lucia. He’s here, now!” Emily says, dramatically pointing down with her fingers. I start glancing around and laughing. She only described his package, so I’d only be able to find Will if he was naked.

  “Em, stop being cryptic. Where is here? He’s clearly not here, as in here,” I say, making exaggerated hand gestures at our surrounding space. “Did you bring him back with you as carry-on? How did he get here?”

  Emily’s pouty expression is hysterical. Is this woman really thirty years old with two kids? She looks twelve!

  “He’s the one who brought me back home from St. Lucia, Sara—” Her phone vibrates in her hand, interrupting her explanation. She looks at the screen, rolls her eyes, and presses ignore. “So, as I was saying, Will helped me get back home to Lou—Fuck! Is this man serious? He has been texting and calling me to come back home for the last hour. He won’t let me be away from him for more than ten minutes at a time. Sorry, let me talk to him or he’ll send someone in to get me.” Oh, Louis “The Caveman” Bruel, I smile to myself at how some things never change.

  “Yeah, of course, go talk to him. I have all the time in the world. I don’t need to get back home to anybody. I don’t have anybody to begin with and as of this morning, I don’t even have a home. Ha-ha!” I try to be funny and lighten our mood, but hearing myself say those words out loud really hurts. I really am all alone, thirty years old and nothing to show for it.

  Emily gets up and walks away from me. I can still hear her talking to Louis. Besides Lola, the tattooed bartender, and us, Pete’s is empty. I’ve heard her say, “I love you” twice already. When she talks to him, her face softens and an unconscious smile takes residence. What would it feel like to have someone not want me away from them for more than ten minutes? What does being wanted in that way taste like, I wonder. Em must be nervous because she’s playing with the diamond ring of her wedding set. I hear her telling Louis that I need her help and that she needs to spend some time with me to get me back on track … Oh, she’s good! She looks my way and I see a big sly smile on her face. I think the little bitch just bought herself some freedom with a ticket on the “Let’s Help Sara Train.” God, I’m proud of her. That’s my girl!

  “Okay, good news. I have a few hours to spend with you before I need to go back and reattach myself to Louis. Let’s go and get you settled in. I don’t mind if you want to crash at The Plaza…I know it’s your favorite. Just because I had my heart crushed in the lobby doesn’t mean you can’t go there anymore.” It’s a good try but I don’t buy that pile of shit. I’m sure she wouldn’t step foot in The Plaza even if she owned it.

  “No, I’d honestly rather stay at The Pierre. I don’t feel like running into anyone I know.” It’s a half-truth; everyone I know spends way too much time at The Plaza. And now with the new food court downstairs, the Bergdorf shoppers—AKA my mom, my sister-in-law, and all her friends—have all become permanent fixtures there. I don’t want to run into anybody that knows Jeff or me.

  Jeff…every time I say his name a chill seeps inside me. If I were only a few years older when we’d met, would I have been his wife? Would we be raising a family together? Will it ever stop hurting? I need to change my life around. I need to start fucking ASAP and get myself out of this depressive funk. After fifteen years of only letting one man inside me, isn’t it time I make a change? Shouldn’t I feel what it’s like to have a careless fuck with someone I don’t love? Maybe I should call Scott? He’s been trying to get inside my panties for the past few months. I overheard his secretary tell my secretary in the bathroom that she had to blow him for thirty minutes until he finally came, but it was worth it because he ate her out like no one ever did. Nah, I’m not in the mood for oral—that’s way too personal and then I’ll have to see him around the office. Bad idea. I’ll just call Brian, my neighbor, or more accurately, my former neighbor from 8B. At last year’s building holiday get together, when I asked what he does for a living, he answered, “putting a smile on women’s faces” and handed me his number. I could use something to smile about. Tonight, I need to be happy. It’s nice to be able to call people when you know exactly what you need.

  “Sara, Sara…earth to Sara. Are you all right? Where did you go? You’re spacing out on me. If you’re ready, let’s go.” Yeah, I’m ready to start changing my life. I’m ready to start acting like that slut that everybody thinks I am.

  “Yeah, I’m ready. I was just thinking about what I’d like to eat for dinner tonight.” Or to be more precise, who I’d like for dinner. I should text Brian before I change my mind. “Em, give me a minute and let me send a text,” I say, as I walk toward the bar to pay our tab and muster all my nerve to text Brian, whose last name I don’t even know, and see how he plans to hopefully put a smile on my face tonight.

  -Brian, this is Sara from 10P in your building. Do you remember me?-

  -Kate Moss’ doppelganger? How can anyone forget you, Sara? Are you out of sugar?-

  His response makes me laugh, I haven’t had anyone call me Kate’s twin in many years, but in high school and college, I used to hear that at least twice a day. I think I look nothing like her.

  -Are you available to eat tonight?-

  It takes him less than a few seconds to answer me.

  -I’m available to eat you tonight.-

  I blush at his forwardness, but that’s the exact response I needed.

  -9PM at The Pierre Lobby Bar.-

  -Are you trying to make this hard for me? You know I can just come up. But if you’re into role-playing I’ll be there and I’ll bring my appetite.-

  -I’ll bring your main course.-

  I type out, thrilled at my level of audacity.

  -I’m getting hard just thinking about your main course.-

  -Can’t wait…come hungry.-

  -Fuck, Sara…I may be upstairs earlier to get a sample.-

  -Lol. See ya at The Pierre-

  I have a big smile on my face as I walk back to our booth and look up to see Em studying me like a mother hen.

  “What?”

  “You know what. Did you just arrange a booty call?” Yeah, the first booty call of my life that’s not with him.

  “And what if I did? I don’t have a hot husband to help me get myself off. Some of us need to fuck multiple people in our lifetime before we find someone we want to fuck until our vagina dries out.” We laugh in unison. I need to laugh, pretend like I always do that everything is just peaches and cream. I always believed if I pretend hard enough then it was true.

  “Can we talk about the man you fucked in St. Lucia? I know, I know; you didn’t fuck him. You just woke up naked in his bed with no recollection of what the fuck happened the night before.” My brazen potential booty call had momentarily sidetracked me from our main problem.

  “I think I would know if I fucked someone. Don’t you think? Why would he tell me nothing happened if it did?” That’s a good point. Maybe the dude didn’t take advantage of her?

  “So, why do we care about this guy again?” My phone starts vibrating with a text. I look with a smile, sure that Brian is getting antsy about our date tonight.

  -The realtor said you left some clothes at the apartment, where are you staying? I’ll have them messengered over later today.-

  It’s Gavin.

  -Have it delivered to The Pierre. I’m staying there for now-, I text back as anoth
er text comes in and this time, it’s not Gavin.

  -I love you…we need to talk-

  It’s him. I’m lightheaded and I can’t breathe; I feel my heartbeat in my ears. He can’t say those words to me. He doesn’t know what they do to me. Em kneels at my side. Why am I on the floor? Am I crying?

  “Sara, honey…what is it? What happen? Did Gavin text you?”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s him, Em. He’ll never leave me alone. He’ll never let me go.”

  Realization finally hits Emily as she yells at me, “Is it Jeff? Sara, you need to let Louis and Eddie talk to him. He needs to let you live and make a future with someone else. He can’t keep popping up in your life. It’s like he knows when you’re weak and he preys on you. You know he can go to jail for statutory rape. Sara, sweetie, don’t cry…please, I hate it when you cry.” We’re both on the floor of Pete’s Tavern as Emily wraps her arms around me and kisses the side of my head. I hate crying. I don’t want to cry. Only dumb cows cry. I’m a dumb cow. “Okay, no more tears,” Emily announces as she wipes my wet cheeks with her designer T-shirt.

  “You just flashed me,” I say as we both smile again.

  “Yes, yes, my boobs have magical power and I use them to heal the world.”

  “Is that what Louis, says?”

  “Once a day and twice on Sunday.”

  “Maybe if I start sucking them all my problems will go away, too.”

  “If you start sucking them, you’ll have Louis Bruel as a problem.” She’s right, that man is obsessed with my best friend and her magical boobs.