by S. H. Kolee
"You bitch," I spat out, my pain turning into rage at Claire. "How could you do this to me? You were supposed to be my friend! Instead, you're telling me that you were screwing Jackson the entire time we were together?!"
Claire had been nothing but apologetic during the conversation but her tone now turned gleeful. "You're the one that gave him up, Emma. I just picked up the pieces."
I heard the phone click, signaling the end of the call. I felt immobilized by pain and fury. All this time I had hated myself for what I had done to Jackson, not knowing that he had been betraying me the entire time. No wonder I would catch odd looks on Claire's face every so often. She was probably laughing at me behind my back for being so naive.
I didn't know what to do now. My life seemed empty. Hopeless.
How far can obligation take you? It took me from the arms of the one man I loved into a life that became meaningless. It took the joy out of my life, leaving me with nothing but pain and regret.
Chapter Thirteen
Five years later
"I forgot how humid New York gets in the summer," I said, fanning myself with my hand. "I always expect it to be cooler up here than D.C."
"Try wearing a wool skirt in this weather!" Trisha exclaimed scornfully.
I grinned at her as I scanned her outfit. "I told you it would be too hot to wear that."
Trisha pouted, looking down at her outfit. "But it looks so cute."
I laughed at Trisha's put-out expression. She had insisted on making the trip up with me to New York, saying she needed a girl's weekend. I hadn't objected, grateful to have company on the long drive.
The air conditioning of the rental car we drove to New York had sputtered and died while we were still on the outskirts of New Jersey. We had opened the windows, but it hadn't done much to relieve the stifling heat.
By the time we made it to the Upper West Side, sweat was dripping down my back and I was praying that I would be able to find a parking spot.
"Our luck is looking up," I said as I spotted an open parking space on the same block as my new apartment and quickly parallel parked. We both jumped out of the car, eager to stretch our limbs, the long drive having taken its toll.
"The first time I lived here, I had to lug two huge suitcases up three flights of stairs," I said as I opened the trunk of the rental car. "Thank God for elevators."
My new apartment building was far from the Trump Towers, but it had an elevator and a doorman, luxuries in New York. I had shipped most of my belongings beforehand, so I only had one suitcase and a couple of boxes with me, in addition to Trisha's suitcase.
"Can you take my suitcase too?" I asked, lifting both of our suitcases out of the trunk and setting them down on the sidewalk next to Trisha. "I'll grab the boxes."
Trisha and I made our way into my apartment, stopping to introduce ourselves to the doorman. I heaved a sigh of relief as I unlocked the door to my apartment and stepped inside, happy that it looked exactly as it had in the pictures. It had been hard coordinating a move from D.C., but I had no time to spare to see the apartment in person. I had been scrambling to wrap up my projects at my old job before I left.
"This is nice," Trisha said, setting our suitcases down in the living room.
"It's small but it's in a good neighborhood and I really wanted a place with a doorman and elevator."
I set the boxes down and started to explore my new home. The bedroom was small but the large living room made up for it. The bathroom was serviceable if a bit cramped but the kitchen was a thing of beauty with stainless steel appliances and plenty of counter space. The apartment was currently filled with boxes and furniture that I had shipped from D.C. and I didn't relish the thought of unpacking everything.
"What should we do first?" Trisha said, collapsing on the couch that was still wrapped in plastic. "Please don't tell me you want to start unpacking."
I grinned at Trisha's pleading expression. She had come for a weekend of fun, not one filled with bubble wrap and packing tape. "Don't worry. The last thing I want to do now is unpack. I have plenty of time for that. I need to return the rental car, but why don't we get lunch afterwards? I want to explore my new neighborhood."
I waited while Trisha changed into an outfit more appropriate for the stifling heat. She looked much more put together than I did in her white shorts and gauzy blue shirt worn over a tank top.
"Don't you want to change?" she asked.
"You're the fashion plate, not me. I'm happy with my jeans and t-shirt." For as long as I had known Trisha, she had always looked put together, even in middle school. We had been best friends since the sixth grade except for a small bump in our friendship after my broken engagement to Sean. After his accident, Trisha had admitted that she had always been in love with Sean and hadn't been able to accept what I had done to him. She had tearfully apologized for abandoning me and begged for another chance. Fortunately, all the hours that we spent together helping Sean rehabilitate himself had made us realize that our friendship was worth salvaging. We had been close again ever since. It didn't hurt that Sean ended up falling in love with Trisha and they had gotten married two years ago.
After dropping off the rental car, Trisha and I walked along Amsterdam Avenue, debating which restaurant to choose out of the dizzying array of options. We finally settled on a Thai restaurant and gratefully stepped into the air-conditioned interior.
"Does it feel weird to be back?" Trisha asked after we had ordered.
"Kind of, since this is the first time I've been back since I lived here, except for the quick trip up for my interview. And I spent more time in the airport than in the city when I came up for it. It doesn't even feel like the same place to me. When I first lived here, I was so wide-eyed and naive. I thought New York was some magical place that was going to change my life. Now I know it's just another city."
Trisha hesitated before asking her next question. "Does it bring up painful memories of Jackson?"
I sighed, trying to examine my feelings. I had mixed emotions when it came to Jackson Reynard and the memories he stirred in me. Losing him had been one of the most painful experiences of my life, second only to losing my father. It had taken me a long time to put myself back together, but slowly and surely, I had. I had moved back to D.C. after Sean started making real progress, knowing that he was in the capable hands of Trisha. I had worked my way up in an advertising agency until I was made an account manager, becoming somewhat of a workaholic as my mother had once feared. Burying myself in work had helped take my mind off Jackson.
Not that it had been easy. Recovering from a failed relationship was hard enough. It was even harder when the person you were trying to get over had their face plastered on every magazine cover. Jackson's career had exploded after he starred in Negative Exposure, the John Warner movie that he had almost passed on because of me. Since then, he had been labeled as the intelligent man's action hero, starring in two more blockbusters afterwards. His meteoric rise to fame meant that every time I turned on the TV, every time I passed a bus shelter or a newsstand, I was at risk of seeing his green eyes looking back at me.
As hard as it was, I got used to seeing Jackson's face everywhere, until I didn't feel that gut-wrenching pain every time I saw an image of him. I told myself that he was just somebody that I used to know, a far away memory that still haunted me sometimes but had lost its power to make me feel that slicing lance of pain. Knowing that he had betrayed me with Claire, and that the desperate love I had believed in had been built on a bed of deceit, helped me get over him.
This didn't mean that I didn't avoid his image. I never went to see any of his movies and I avoided any TV show or magazine that he was featured in. I told myself that it was normal to still have those nights left over from when the breakup had been fresh. Those nights where I lay in bed, reliving the memories of us together as I clutched the diamond pendant he had once given me with eyes full of love. Those nights when I pleasured myself with my hands, imagining that it w
as Jackson caressing me. My body still craved him, even though my mind knew that he had deceived me, had cheated on me with Claire.
"It does bring up some bad memories," I admitted to Trisha. "But I have to remind myself that it was a long time ago. I'm a different person now. I'm not as naive as I once used to be."
"You weren't naive," Trisha said, shaking her head. "You were in love. It's not your fault Jackson cheated on you and abandoned you."
"Technically, he didn't abandon me. I abandoned him."
"Don't defend him," Trisha replied vehemently. "You may have broken up with him, but you were doing it for his own good. It only took you a week to realize your mistake, but lover boy was already shacking up with the whore that he had cheated on you with."
Trisha had been there for me during my darkest days. She heard the details of everything that had transpired between Jackson and me as I poured out my heart to her. To say that she had an unfavorable impression of Jackson was an understatement. It infuriated her even more that he had become rich and famous. She proclaimed that she would never watch a movie with that "sonofabitch" in it.
"I'm not defending him. And I'm certainly not excusing his cheating. But I know what role I played in the demise of our relationship. I thank my lucky stars that I did break up with him though. Otherwise, I may have never found out about him and Claire."
Our conversation was interrupted by the waiter bringing over our food.
"Let's not waste anymore time talking about Jackson. This is a weekend for us to have fun. I only have you for two days and I don't want to spend it moping about the past."
Trisha agreed on dropping the subject of Jackson and we spent the rest of lunch planning our weekend. Trisha was leaving Sunday morning so we only had the rest of today and all of Saturday to cram in as many activities as we could.
After lunch, we went shopping. Trisha was intent on spending as much money as possible before she left. I trailed behind her as we went into store after store, waiting patiently as she tried on a million pairs of shoes.
"What do you think?" she asked, modeling a pair of snakeskin five-inch heels.
"I think you're going to kill yourself trying to walk in those," I replied, plopping into a chair. I had a feeling we would be here for a while.
"Yeah, but what a way to go."
Trisha flagged down the harried salesman, asking for another pair of shoes to try on. A couple of women sat next to me, engrossed in their conversation as they slipped on pairs of shoes. I couldn't help but overhear them.
"He's in town for the premiere of his new movie. I say we find out what hotel he's staying at and camp out."
The woman's companion frowned as she stood up and admired the shoes she had slipped on in the mirror. "I think we're a little old to be stalking celebrities."
"Yeah, but it's Jackson Reynard! He's so hot, I wouldn't mind making a fool out of myself over him."
"I heard he's dating Candace Stile. No offense, but I don't think a mere mortal is going to be able to steal him from her. Besides, I read that they've been dating for a while but have kept it secret. Apparently, they're in love."
"It's not like I think I actually have a chance," the woman said with a scowl. "But what's wrong with dreaming a little?"
The two women moved to another section of the store, not knowing that they had shocked me into stillness. The last thing I expected was for Jackson to be in town. I figured that he spent most of his time in L.A., not taking into consideration that he would be in New York to promote his new movie. I couldn't help but see commercials for it since they were constantly running. I was sure it was destined to be another blockbuster, but it was another one of his films I would never see.
"What about these?" Trisha asked, now wearing red knee-high boots.
"Why are you trying on boots in the middle of summer?" I asked, pushing the thoughts of Jackson from my mind. I had gotten plenty of practice these past five years of not thinking about him, although I had to admit I wasn't always successful.
"Because these are on clearance! I can save them until winter."
I studied the heels of her boots with a skeptical look. "I don't think those boots are made for trudging in the snow."
Trisha shook her head sadly, obviously letting me know that I was missing the point. She ended up buying the boots, as well as two other pairs of shoes.
"Why don't we go back to the apartment?" I suggested. "I feel like a pack mule with all your packages. We can drop off your bags and rest up until dinner."
We were treating ourselves to a nice dinner at Eleven Madison Park but I needed to rest beforehand. Otherwise, I would be falling asleep on my plate.
I ripped the plastic off my furniture when we got back to my place and tried to arrange it in some sort of semblance of order. I opened a bottle of wine and Trisha and I relaxed on the couch, idly talking about nothing in general.
"Are you excited to start your new job?" Trisha asked, twirling her wine glass.
"I'm excited but I'm nervous too. This is a big step for me." I was starting as an account director at Forrester, a large ad agency with offices around the country. I would be handling accounts worth tens of millions of dollars and although I felt qualified for the job, I couldn't help feeling like a fish out of water. The agency I had left in D.C. had been considerably smaller.
"I have no doubt that you're going to be amazing," Trisha said with confidence. "I'll just have to make frequent trips up here to boost your ego."
"I'd welcome that," I replied with a laugh. "Although I don't know how happy Sean would be about that."
Trisha waved her hand airily. "He has plenty of things to occupy himself with, namely remodeling the bathroom."
Trisha and Sean had recently bought a "fixer-upper" and were determined to do as much work themselves as possible, although Trisha tended to take on a supervisory role instead of getting her hands dirty. As flippant as she was about leaving Sean to his own devices, I knew that in reality, she didn't like spending too much time apart. They were one of those sickening sweet couples that were joined at the hip. I was surprised that she had even suggested coming along to New York, but I knew the real reason was because she was worried about the memories my return would trigger. I was grateful to have her as a friend.
Trisha checked her watch and then jumped up, finishing the last of her wine with a gulp. "I need to start getting ready if we're going to make our eight o'clock reservation."
"Trisha, it's six o'clock. You have plenty of time."
"It takes a lot of time to make this beautiful," she said with a sweep with her hand over her body. I shook my head in exasperation. Trisha had been a little overweight during high school but she had shed the extra weight during college. However, her insecurity hadn't left her, no matter how many times she was told that she was beautiful. With her blonde hair in a pixie haircut and startling blue eyes, she was the consummate girl-next-door.
I watched amused as Trisha rushed around getting ready, primping as if she were getting ready for dinner with the Queen of England. By the time seven-thirty rolled around, we were both ready for a fun night out.
"I told you that dress looked gorgeous on you," I commented, giving Trisha the once-over. She was wearing a deep blue dress that made her eyes seem even brighter and clung to her body in all the right places. She had been an avid exerciser ever since college and it showed in her lean lines.
I was more sedately dressed in a black sheath that reached mid-thigh, cinched at the waist with a thin grey leather belt. Trisha looked at me admiringly.
"I'd kill for your curves."
"What is it with women?" I asked, shaking my head. "We're never satisfied with what we have. Here I was wishing that I was as fit as you." I grinned at Trisha. "Let's just pronounce us both ravishing beauties and leave it at that."
"Deal," she said, linking her arm with mine. The trip downstairs in the elevator was quick since I was only on the fifth floor. I greeted the doorman, who had earlier insisted
that I call him Harry, and hailed a cab outside. Even though the restaurant was on the other side of town, traffic was relatively sparse and we got there quickly.
"We have a reservation for two at eight o'clock for Emma Mills," I told the maitre d' once we arrived.
"Of course," he said graciously. "Right this way, Ms. Mills."
Trisha and I trailed behind him as I surveyed the dining room, marveling at how impeccably decorated it was. I enjoyed expensive restaurants, but I tended not to indulge too often. The responsible side of me protested against spending hundreds of dollars for one meal.
"Have a wonderful evening, ladies," the maitre d' said after he had pulled out our chairs and we had settled in. Trisha leaned over towards me immediately after we had opened our menus.
"What the heck is this? It just says random stuff like beef, veal and celery. How am I supposed to order something that just says celery? A celery what? A celery puree? A celery soup? Am I going to get a stalk of celery on a fancy plate?"
I couldn't help laughing at Trisha's affronted expression. "I told you about the menu before. They just list the main ingredient of each dish without telling you how it's prepared. That way, it's a surprise when you get it. Just pick one out of each category, sit back and enjoy."
Trisha didn't look too happy about the menu setup, but she didn't utter another word of complaint although I knew she wanted to interrogate the waiter about how the dishes were prepared when he took our order.
"This is the life," Trisha said with a sigh, leaning back into her chair as she took a sip of the wine we had ordered. Apparently, the transgression of the sparsely descriptive menu had been forgotten. "I wish I could spend every day shopping and eating in swanky restaurants."
"I think it would get boring pretty fast. There's only so many things you can buy and so many plates of foie gras you can eat."
"Speak for yourself. Didn't you know that you can never be too thin or too rich?"
