by Olivia Grace
Being mediocre was okay in this town. Being average was a blessing. Being above average was a weird twist of fate, like winning the Powerball lottery.
Natives of this fine hillbilly land were fine with this kind of life. I was supposed to be like my mother – marry a local boy and have babies. Then, I was supposed to take all three of my kids to bonfires, where I met with my other friends who were also married, had babies, and had lackluster careers.
Unfortunately, as Tyler’s rhythm became steady, heavy, and persistent, I feared that I would be too much like my mother – divorced and a single mother – if I allowed Tyler to burst this load into me.
Suddenly, I could hear that glorious chime. I heard it loud and clear, over Tyler’s moaning and groaning. A shy smile spread across my face. I knew that it was him. That simple notion excited me. The thought of him sent erotic chills all over my exposed skin.
I thrust back onto Tyler’s manhood. He probably thought that I was fucking him, but, in my mind, I was fucking Justin. He was who deserved my body. He was who cared for me. He was who took care of me emotionally.
“Yea!” Tyler was grunting in delight. “That’s it!”
I closed my eyes and let the continuous chiming serenade the mental threesome that I was having. Justin was in that room with me and Tyler. He was telling me something sensual that I would be able to read as soon as this asshole was done doing his business.
With a jerk, Tyler slid out of me. His legs lifted off of me. I was free to move about the cabin, finally.
I jumped out of bed with visions of Tyler holding a leaking member in my peripheral.
I slipped into the hall and skipped into the bathroom.
I showered.
I couldn’t talk to Justin with Tyler juice on me.
I lathered and let the anticipation of Justin’s conversation and the sweet smell of the Dove Nutrium rescue my mind from the violation that I had just endured. I showered quickly and dried my body with the rough Dollar Store bath towel even faster.
By the time I skipped with anticipation back into the bedroom, Tyler was holding his cock while cradling a pillow and snoring. I grabbed my Galaxy from the nightstand and left him there in his own sweat.
The green notification light was blinking rapidly, waiting for me to check my instant messages. My fingers swiped across the screen like a ninja.
Justin Hunter: Hey, babe.
Justin Hunter: How was work?
Justin Hunter: I missed you today. Work was so busy.
Justin Hunter: Where are you? Are you busy?
Justin Hunter: Or are you with him? :–(
Every single part of me, every single cell in my body, wanted to call him. I just wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to allow the octaves of the baritone voice, that I imagined he had, make better love to me than Tyler just had.
My body shivered as I typed: Hi.
It was amazing that I felt more love, more chemistry, in that chat box than I did when my real boyfriend was on top of me.
Justin Hunter: You’re with him, aren’t you?
Karrie Stahl: I don’t want to talk about him.
Justin Hunter: I hate this. I can’t share you.
Three
The next day I was being literally bored into an early grave with a lecture on the Neural Basis of Consciousness in Psychology 1.
I had changed my major twenty times, seemingly. Finally, I settled on Psychology, hoping to be a therapist, completely bogged down in student loans by the time that I was thirty.
Luckily, Sabrina finally strolled into class a half hour late. She was wearing the cutest faux leather jogging suit that I had ever seen. She was making my dingy hoodie, worn jeans, and flip flops look like the finest homeless apparel.
As soon as she sat beside me, she scooted so close to me that we could no longer be considered platonic friends or heterosexual.
“So, I have something for you.”
Her smile was juicy and full of devious excitement dressed in matte lipstick. The lavender color looked expensive and matched embellishments on her jogging suit.
I asked reluctantly, “What?”
Sabrina’s smile was way too wide and held a bit of evil.
She was up to something.
I knew it.
She asked, “You know my cousin, Rainy, right?”
“The stripper? Yea.”
“She is not a stripper.”
“She sure dresses like one.”
“Rainy is a hostess. She dresses that way for tips,” Sabrina corrected me. “Anyway, I hear they are looking for another hostess at the Pink Rhino. She told me that she would hook you up.”
I was so flabbergasted that the wind had been knocked out of me a little. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I was convinced that Sabrina had completely lost the little mind that she had.
The Pink Rhino was a gentlemen’s club in downtown Chicago, right off the magnificent mile. Sabrina often took the forty–five-minute drive to hang out with her cousin, Rainy. She begged me to go every now and then. I never had the courage to join her. A place where a woman’s appearance was on display was not the place for me.
Yet, Sabrina tried to convince me otherwise. “She makes about a thousand bucks a week, including her tips. Do you even make that in a month at good ol’ Mickey D’s?”
I stared blankly at the projector that reflected Cliff Notes on the principles of neural science. Surely, I should have been taking notes. Surely, Sabrina was going to ask me for my notes next week when it was time for the quiz. However, I could only note the truth in her friendly yet stabbing words. I was poor. Tyler and I were waiting for the moment that NIPSCO shut off our lights and gas. We were waiting for the moment that we came home to darkness and ice melting in the fridge.
I needed the gig.
That romantic chime brought me back to reality. The dream of making more money was nice. The reality of making it at a place where my boyish chest would be on display was horrifying.
Sabrina huffed aggressively as she noticed me reaching for my phone.
Justin Hunter: Hey, babe.
Sabrina saw the smile that danced across my face as I looked into the screen of my Galaxy. She saw the flirtation. She saw the lust. She saw the happiness.
“Urgh! Tell Cyber Boyfriend to pipe down. We’re having a conversation here.”
“Can you do it quietly?!” That harsh whisper came from behind us.
Sabrina swiveled her head backwards like the Exorcist and shot whoever, daggers.
I was too busy typing to continue to listen to her convince me to work at the man cave.
Karrie Stahl: Hey you. In class.
Justin Hunter: I came to an epiphany last night.
Karrie Stahl: Do tell.
Justin Hunter: Maybe if we meet, you’ll leave him.
Sabrina saw my face blanch white as snow. She saw the utter fear yet anticipation. She leaned in and read the screen as I typed and fought to see the screen through her extensions.
Karrie Stahl: Teasing is so not cool, Mr. Hunter!
Justin Hunter: No teasing. I want to see the woman that I am meant to spend forever with. It’s time, my love.
“When?!” Obviously, Sabrina’s eyes were over my shoulder, reading every word. She was as excited as I should have been.
Karrie Stahl: When?
Justin Hunter: “Why put off to tomorrow what we can do today?” Or something like that, the saying goes.
Karrie Stahl: Cornball…But I love it.
Justin Hunter: And I love you, Karrie Stahl.
I couldn’t think after that. My brain had instantly turned into a mushy bowl of anxiety soup. My face flushed red. My heart skipped way too many beats. My head was spinning. There was pain in my chest.
I was convinced that I was having a panic attack.
Surely, I was going into cardiac arrest.
“Shit,” I cursed silently as I slammed my forehead into the palm of my hand.
Suddenly
, this was all real. For three months, I had been living in a romantic fantasy land. For months, I’d been cheating on my boyfriend with a chat box!
Now, it was real. Now, Justin was a real person.
I couldn’t have been more terrified.
Like a little Yorkshire terrier, Sabrina was able to sniff out my fear.
She attacked in harsh whispers.
“Karrie, you can’t be serious! You’ve been cyber fucking this guy for months! Now you’re scared?!”
I timidly parted my lips. My heart was still beating so fast that it caused all words to escape me. Just as I thought of something to say, which would have probably still pissed Sabrina off, the professor interrupted us. “Karrie and Sabrina, since my lecture is interrupting your conversation, how about you guys leave the lecture hall?”
Despite Professor Spencer’s undeniably sexy stance and the way his tee cropped to his sculpted body, his look was stern and his eyes were angry as he stared at us from the bottom of the lecture hall steps.
Lustfully, Sabrina smiled at him as he climbed the steps towards the row that Sabrina and I were sitting in. Her eyes flirtatiously invited the professor’s anger.
To dodge any further embarrassment, I began to gather my things.
Like a horny lioness, Sabrina stayed seated, daringly.
She looked cocky. Yet, since she was blocking my exit to the aisle, I looked like a dumbass as I stood there eyeing Professor Spencer in fear.
“Out ... Now.”
Professor Spencer was hot to be in his late forties. He had been teaching for twenty years. Back then, I could imagine him looking as if he should have been naked and sweating on a poster taped to my wall, not in a lecture hall giving a boring Psychology lecture.
Because he was the total opposite of other old, fat, and balding professors, it was hard to take him seriously. He knew that. That’s why he simply ignored Sabrina’s flirtatious stare, turned, and walked away. Using my long legs, I was able to hop over her with my book bag hanging over one shoulder. Out of my peripheral, I saw Sabrina grab her purse. Of course, she didn’t have a book bag or books, or a freaking pen for that matter. I was her educational materials.
Sabrina followed me down the steps and out of the exit.
“Shit, he is hot,” Sabrina cursed with lustful and heavy breathing as we walked towards the exit of the Psychology building. “Too bad he’s old enough to be my dad.”
I had no response. My mind was not on Professor Spencer or the test that Sabrina and I would fail now that I was missing the lecture.
My mind was on Justin Hunter.
Once she saw the anxiety in my expression, Sabrina’s focus shifted to him as well. “Let’s go! We gotta get you ready!”
Sabrina was all too excited as I reluctantly followed her to her Benz in the parking lot. I listened to her go on and on and on about how she was going to make me over to meet Justin. She was going to find me the best outfit, curl my hair, and do my makeup.
At the same time, I was instant messaging Justin to secure a location and time for our meeting.
“We’re meeting at Coldwell Park at five.” It sounded like I was announcing my sentencing. I sounded deathly afraid.
“Good! Nice public place in case he is the Facebook rapist!”
I found nothing funny in Sabrina’s laughter as we drove out of the parking lot. I was scared of Justin being the total opposite of a killer. I was afraid of him being just as loving and wonderful as he had been for months. I was scared of him being just as gorgeous as his pictures were. I was petrified of him finding me just as beautiful and loving me just as perfectly as he did online, thus leaving me looking foolish for subjecting myself to the mediocrity of Tyler.
Once at Sabrina’s place, I allowed her to stuff me into a pair of straight legged jeans that were too tight. The tank top that she slipped over my neck still smelled like she had just taken it off. It reeked of the Chanel No. 5 perfume that she bathed in daily. My mind was too cloudy to give a damn as she curled my long red locs and slapped pressed powder, bronzer, and blush on my face.
When she was all done, it was four forty–five, and I looked like the Sabrina version of Karrie. I was prettier than I could have ever come up with using my dated wardrobe and cheap make–up. She’d even given me her Benz to drive to Coldwell Park. My knees shook rhythmically as I rode the four blocks in a complete daze. I wondered what the hell I was doing. I wondered if Tyler would see my face caked with blush while riding in that Benz. This town was so small that half of it was bound to see me as I drove towards my illicit love affair.
As I parked, my eyes made mad, paranoid glances. I was looking for Justin and the black Mustang that he said he would be in. I was looking for Tyler and his rusty pickup truck. I was looking for anyone familiar with either of us that would surely tell everyone in town how I was oddly dressed like a Sabrina look–alike in the park. The heels that she squeezed my feet into were killing me. I walked over to a park bench trying desperately to make my attempt at a runway walk look not so drug addict–ish and awkward.
And then I sat.
And waited.
And looked at my phone countless times, only to see text messages from Sabrina asking for a blow by blow of my encounter with my love affair.
And then I waited some more.
I sat there until six o’clock.
I watched every car go by. I fought to see if I recognized each driver.
I continued to sit in faith. I sat, nervous on the inside, but trying to look like the sexy, confident, alluring woman that I wasn’t on the outside.
I continued to sit in faith for another hour.
He never came.
I instant messaged him with no reply. I watched for the notification that he’d at least seen my messages.
I never got one.
I sent text message after text message to his phone asking for his whereabouts, whether he was stuck in traffic on I–80 east, whether he was still coming, and, then, why he had obviously stood me up.
Foolishly, I kicked off the Cole Haan heels. I snatched them up from the gravel and then sadly moped barefoot back to my borrowed luxury taxi.
I sat for ten more minutes, hoping that the Chicago traffic was causing Justin’s tardiness. I sat there, for ten more minutes, staring at our Facebook conversation, waiting for him to read my messages.
He never did.
“He didn’t show,” was the first thing that I said to Sabrina when she answered my distressed call.
I rode the rural streets of my small town fighting crocodile tears.
She grunted. “I told you this guy was freaking Catfishing you!”
Even though I had been stood up, I still didn’t believe that. He couldn’t have been. He talked to me with such intimacy. For months, he’d romanced me. I couldn’t imagine anyone investing that much time and energy into a cruel joke.
“Maybe something came up. An emergency.”
Sabrina simply huffed and puffed in response. I appreciated her silence. I appreciated her being a friend by refraining from hurting my feelings with the obvious truth.
“I’m passing my house,” I told her. I was making a bad attempt of masking my disappointment. “Let me check the mail. Then I’ll bring you back your car.”
I hung up before she could say anything else. Just one more word about Justin standing me up would have sent me into crying hysterics. I was desperately trying to hold myself together as I jogged towards my mailbox barefoot.
There had to be a reason why he didn’t show up. There had to be a reason why he’d broken my heart in two.
A letter from Purdue’s financial office gave me something else to stress over. My face flushed red as I tore the envelope open. Heat took over my body. It was under way too much pressure. The verbiage of the letter sent me into a panic. Whatever I was trying not to feel about Justin standing me up came gushing out of my eyes in panicked tears because Purdue was discontinuing my enrollment if I could not pay my negative balan
ce by the end of the semester.
I threw the letter into the passenger seat, along with the rest of the bills that were colored final notices, and backed out my driveway slowly, attempting to see through the clear film of tears that were blocking my vision.
Just then, that familiar chime rang through the air.
I literally hit the brakes so hard that I flew forward. My forehead tapped the steering wheel.
I ignored the pain. I grabbed my phone hungrily. My fingers moved like lightening.
Justin Hunter: You’re not ready to leave him. I can’t do this. I can’t share you.
I pulled over on the side of Kennedy Avenue. I rolled down the window so that fresh and rejuvenating air could enter my collapsing lungs. I fought the urge to throw my phone out of the window.
I sat there, dressed in Sabrina and riding in Sabrina. I stared at Justin’s message. I could feel the letter from Purdue sitting next to me like a death sentence. I stared out of the windshield, anticipating the peace once I threw myself through it. I wondered if death was the only option to fix such an unfortunate and unlucky existence.
Four
“He’s fucking with you!”
Sabrina was livid when I finally got back to her place. When she opened her front door, I appeared on the other side resembling a freckled faced, broken hearted puppy. I couldn’t stop the tears. My life was so mundane. My only sources of sunshine were Justin and school. Now, I had neither. I was being kicked out of school. Justin had nothing else to say to me.
He’d sent that last message and logged off. Therefore, he didn’t see the twenty messages I sent thereafter, telling him how much I desperately needed him and wanted to see his precious face.
Sabrina cursed and flailed her thin, yet toned, arms. She was so angry, as if Justin had broken her heart as well. “Fuck that asshole!”
Those weren’t my sentiments. My heart was in itty bitty bite sized pieces all over the marble floors that I sluggishly walked over. Yet, I wasn’t angry. I didn’t blame Justin. He was right. I had no courage to change my miserable existence. I had stood stagnant; right in McDonald’s, right in this town, and right under Tyler.
