SECRET Revealed

by L. Marie Adeline

“I can think of a few things on my to-do list,” I said, throwing a shy smile at him from the mirror.

  He plucked his clothes from the floor and left me standing very still in the bathroom, my legs quaking, the windows all steamed up. I did it. I did something I’ve never done before: I just got laid by a beautiful young man I will probably never see again. And I’m … I’m proud of myself.

  I made my way over to my bed, peeled back the duvet, dropped my robe to the floor and slid naked between my cool sheets. Closing my eyes, I let my hand travel down to where I was just starting to feel a little sore. Ow. Wow. I heard him downstairs as he started and stopped the dishwasher. Then I heard the plink plink of tinkering and repairing. Nice.

  Drifting off, I was thinking of at least one more thing he might be able to tackle before he left. Just one more thing …

  CASSIE

  It had all happened so fast. Something had told me not to bring Will to that S.E.C.R.E.T. charity event. But I didn’t listen. Something had also told me to pull him away from Pierre Castille the second he opened his mouth to reveal the truth of my involvement in S.E.C.R.E.T.—the sex, the fantasies, the men—using the vilest of terms, slut, bitch, whore.

  But I froze in the dark corner of Latrobe’s that fateful night. I said nothing when Pierre told Will that S.E.C.R.E.T.’s mandate was to “use and discard men.” When Pierre spat out that I’d do that to Will, too, if he let me, it looked like Will believed him.

  How many men, Cassie? How many? And since when?

  Secrets and lies now surrounded me the way they’d surrounded his ex, Tracina, a woman who had convinced Will for the better part of a year that the baby she was carrying was his. It had been only a month since he heartbreakingly discovered that that wasn’t true, that the baby was the product of her affair with Carruthers Johnstone, the once-married-now-separated DA she really loved. Not that Will had loved Tracina. He hadn’t, but he had so loved the idea of the baby. I had hoped our blissful reunion would help heal his wounds over that, but they were gaping once more, and I was the one who had ripped out his stitches.

  “I–I’m sorry I never told you everything before, Will, but I was worried you’d react like this,” I stammered.

  My hands on his chest, I tried to explain to him what S.E.C.R.E.T was about, what it had done for me. But he wasn’t listening. He was glaring at Jesse Turnbull, my ex-lover and now friend, who had come to find me, to see if I was okay.

  “Was he from this year’s roster or was he last year’s model, Cassie?” Will hissed. “Maybe you’re into having him spank you too.”

  Jesse took a step forward. He had already decked Pierre and I had no doubt that if necessary he’d do the same to Will.

  “I’ve had enough bedroom drama to last me a fucking lifetime,” Will said before storming out of Latrobe’s, leaving me in a pile for Jesse to gather up and carry home.

  And just like that, Will Foret was no longer in love with me.

  On the way home from Latrobe’s, I was inconsolable. Jesse tried to explain that Will wasn’t rejecting me, he was rejecting the duplicity. I listened, watching the city smear past me in the passenger window. He pulled the truck up to the curb in front of the Spinster Hotel, shutting off the engine. He turned to face me.

  “Want me to come up?”

  When the love of your life tosses you over because of your past, it’s easy to imagine running into the arms of the man who accepts everything about you, especially when those arms are warm and taut and welcoming. But while I did invite Jesse upstairs, I didn’t so much as kiss him.

  While he boiled water for tea, I slipped out of that awful, beautiful black satin dress and pulled on my sweats. While the tea steeped, I sobbed for a few minutes on the futon couch, pushing away my cat Dixie’s attempts to comfort me. Jesse sat beside me and listened. From time to time, he’d lay a reassuring arm on my forearm, telling me everything would be okay, that Will would come around, that I had done nothing wrong, and that I just had to be patient.

  “You heard him tonight, Jesse,” I said, tossing another ball of spent tissue onto my coffee table. “He’s done.”

  Jesse studied my face for an opening. He was going to be honest with me and I could already tell I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

  “Well, here’s the thing, Cassie. I’m a man … and I’m thinking … after the year that guy’s had, I’d be scared too.”

  “He’s not scared, he’s pissed.”

  “Let me tell you something about men, Cassie. When we get scared we don’t show ‘scared,’ we show ‘angry.’ ”

  Maybe there was some truth in all that, but I wasn’t ready to let Will off the hook, or myself.

  “Nah. He’s thinking, ‘What a fucking whore, glad I found out now.’ ”

  It was a tossed-off statement, but Jesse leaned towards me, peering into my face like a concerned doctor. “Why would you say something like that, Cass?”

  “You saw him, Jesse. He hates me. He is repulsed by what I’ve done.”

  “No he doesn’t, and he isn’t. He hates that the woman he loves has been leading some … I don’t know … strange, sexy double life … And he has no idea what to do about that but feel scared and threatened. You following me?”

  “I am. I just … I’ve made such mess of everything. Will and me. You and me. I mean, why are you even here being so nice to me after the way I treated you?”

  We hadn’t seen each other in about a month, not since the day Tracina’s baby was born, when it became evident that Will’s heart was mine, and mine his, and whatever I’d had with Jesse wasn’t going to amount to much more than sex.

  “There you go again with the self-fucking-loathing. You need to cut that out, Cass. I’m serious. If Matilda was here, she’d slap those words right out of your mouth for good.”

  “It’s true. I’m sorry.”

  Jesse’s face softened, concern giving way to kindness.

  “Don’t apologize to me. You never did anything wrong to me. Apologize to yourself.”

  My eyes felt hooded and swollen from tears. I rested my head on my upper arm, outstretched across the back of the futon. I let my fingers glance Jesse’s shoulder. I looked at him through my damp lashes. Was I flirting? No. Maybe. I was looking for comfort, connection. Jesse responded by moving close to me, then by placing a soft, sweet kiss on my temple.

  “Bye, doll. You sleep. I’ll call you.”

  If he had reached under my chin and drawn my mouth to his, would I have resisted? I think so. Maybe. No. Yes! Who knows? In truth, I had no idea what I wanted that night. But ambivalence, blurry lines, confusion and sadness, these were not aphrodisiacs to the men in S.E.C.R.E.T.

  Jesse rose and stretched, his taut stomach peeking out from beneath his T-shirt. I had never thought I was a visual animal, but since S.E.C.R.E.T., I had discovered that I had been wrong about a lot of things.

  Too tired to get off the couch, I waved good-bye to Jesse from my spot. He gave me his trademark two-finger salute and left, quietly shutting the door behind him. Then I glanced down at my arm, down to my glittering bracelet, the one covered with ten charms, each one loved and earned. Suddenly it seemed to weigh heavily on my wrist.

  The next morning, I dressed carefully for my regular breakfast shift at the Café Rose. I wanted to look pulled together, calm, adult, not like I’d been crying all night. Not that Dell would notice. She hadn’t paid much attention to Will and me kissing in the corners of the Café this past month, so I figured she’d barely register that we’d broken up.

  Then I was slammed by another memory from the night before! Yesterday, in the throes of deep affection for me, Will had not only asked me to manage his new, fancier restaurant upstairs, but also had said he was naming it Cassie’s, after me, a gesture that had moved me to tears. Now, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to work there anymore.

  Maybe what I needed to do was walk in and quit. This time for good. Maybe a long break from seeing each other, being around each other, hur
ting each other, was what we both needed. Then cold dread snaked up my legs: Will could fire me. I’d have a wrongful dismissal case of some kind, but I wouldn’t spend my savings on lawyers. Knowing me, I’d just leave, tail between my legs, taking Angela Rejean up on that hostess job at Maison.

  When I got to Frenchmen Street, I made a right. The autumn sun felt comforting on my shoulders. I began to walk a little taller. If only I could make Will understand all that S.E.C.R.E.T. had done for me, not just sexually. But I could also stand up for myself. I could go after what I wanted. I was bolder, surer, no longer clingy and afraid. I wasn’t one of those women who would rather be with anyone than alone. Alone was not scary anymore. Alone was challenging, but it was also deeply satisfying. Alone was not lonely.

  By the time I reached the Café Rose, I was certain today was the last day I’d work for Will Foret. And I was also certain I’d be okay. I looked upstairs to the new restaurant, its freshly installed windows still sporting the manufacturer’s stickers. I would be sad, but I would survive. Resilience was one of the many things S.E.C.R.E.T. had given me, and today it was the only thing I needed.

  Breakfast was a blur. Dell and I passed each other going through the swinging doors, her emerging with platters of eggs, me punching in with dirty dishes piled in two arms, both of us at various times tapping our fingers while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. It wasn’t until the late-morning lull that Will snuck in through the kitchen while my back was to him. I was grating lime rinds while Dell was prepping crust for one of her famous pies. When I turned around, my heart took a second to catch up to what I saw: Will’s handsome face now drawn, his dark eyes bloodshot, his lids heavy with grief.

  “Hey,” he said, eyeing both of us as he deposited a crate of oranges on the metal prep table.

  Dell ignored him, knowing that greeting was for me.

  “Hey,” I said, mimicking his deadpan delivery.

  “You got home okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “I did,” I replied curtly, not turning fully around to face him, refraining from telling him that Jesse drove me home, but nothing happened.

  “Good. Good,” he said. “I’m sorry I stormed out of there. But I figured you were in good hands.”

  There it was, a dig about Jesse.

  “Will, I—”

  Dell wasn’t interested in overhearing any more of what wasn’t really being said.

  “If you kids need me, I’ll be at my job, working,” she said, heading through the swinging doors back into the Café.

  Will turned to finish unloading the fruit and vegetables. I went to follow him out back, to help, like I always did.

  “No!” he said, turning around. I took a step back. “I mean, I can unload myself. Just take care of the customers.”

  Claire, Will’s niece, who must have accompanied him to work that morning, came bounding into the kitchen, her blond dreads piled on her head in a tight nest. I’d begged her to contain her hair, as too many customers were finding her strands in their omelettes. Finally she relented when her uncle jokingly threatened to send her back to live with her folks in Slidell, something I knew he’d never really do. He was thrilled to have her live with him while she went to art school. And I was becoming as smitten with her as he was.

  “Hey, lovebirds, get a room,” she singsonged, shrugging off her jacket.

  It was a phrase she’d been overusing over these past few weeks, because we could barely keep our hands off each other. She plucked a fat strawberry from a pile in the strainer and shoved it in her mouth. Our flat expressions, our dense silence must have given off a palpable tension. She glanced at me, then Will.

  “O-kay then. I’ll just … go find Dell,” she said, slinking out to the dining room, rightly afraid of the storm brewing over our heads.

  I looked into Will’s haunted eyes.

  “Is this how it’s going to be?” I whispered. “Everyone tippy-toeing around us. Because if so, I’m happy to hand in my resignation. Today. Now.”

  I was astonished at my own resolve. But I meant it. And he knew it. He raked his fingers through his sleep-flattened hair. Was he grayer than yesterday?

  “Please don’t do that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what, Will? For everything?”

  “No. Not for everything, but definitely for the way I behaved last night. I know I left you feeling bad about yourself. I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

  I took a step toward him as though it were the most natural thing in the world to throw my arms around him, to accept his apology. He put up his hand as a barrier, keeping his voice even, calm, as though talking to a scared animal.

  “Wait. No. The thing is, Cassie … I’ve been thinking … I’ve been up all night thinking … and I realize that I probably rushed into things with you. Clearly you still have some loose strings to tie up, maybe with that guy, maybe with that … group you’re in.”

  “There are no loose strings, Will. There is no guy. Jesse is a friend. And there is no group. I left that … group once I realized you and I were … that we could—”

  “That we could what? Finally be together? Right. As if you were pining away for me.”

  Indignation flooded in. “Is that what you wanted me to be doing?”

  “No, I mean … I meant … that’s what I was doing.”

  “Ha. Wait. You’re telling me you were pining away for me while living with and sleeping with a beautiful young woman who was about to have what you thought was your baby. Meanwhile, I was supposed to stay celibate, not date, not have sex with anyone else, but instead sit around waiting for your relationship to die so that I could finally have you?”

  “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his face furiously, trying to dig out a better answer. “I’m an asshole.”

  “No argument from me on that,” I said. “Because yeah, you’re right, Will, I wasn’t waiting around. And frankly, now that it’s looking like it’s over again between us, I’m still not waiting around.”

  We were a foot apart now, both incredulous at the things that were coming out of each other’s mouths. We seemed to be marinating in speechlessness and shock.

  “Seriously. Tell me now, Will. Should I hand in my resignation?”

  He straightened up, and when he spoke his voice was gentle, insistent.

  “Cassie, as I tried to say last night, but couldn’t, you are one of the best employees I’ve ever had. I don’t want that to change. I want you to continue working here and training your replacements at the Café so you can manage the restaurant upstairs. It is going to be named Cassie’s, since that’s the name I registered, that’s the name on the liquor license, that’s the name that’s going to be on all the invoices and menus I’ve printed, and on a sign that’s going to be delivered any minute now,” he said, checking his watch. “I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

  I’d been staring at his lips the whole time he spoke, wanting to kiss him, wanting to slap him for the words issuing from them, willing myself not to cry, not to stammer. I placed one hand over my stomach and with the other I braced myself on the counter.

  “Will, tell me something.”

  “What?” His shoulders dropped. He knew what was coming.

  “Did you ever love me?”

  He looked down as though the answer were scribbled on a piece of paper balled up in one of his fists.

  “I … did. And I still … think the world of you, Cassie. I do.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers before continuing.

  “I still feel … very deeply for you, Cassie. But I can’t be in love with you. I won’t be. I won’t let myself. Because I want—no, I need, I seriously need my life to be more uncomplicated from now on. I’ve got Claire to look after now, and she’s going through some shit at school, and I’ve got a new business to run. Tracina and the baby are behind me now. And I just have to focus on having a quieter, simpler life. I need that. For my sanity.”

  The silence that foll
owed said everything.

  It was over between us. Completely.

  “I see.”

  “But we can work together, Cassie. We’re not children. And good jobs aren’t easy to come by. Don’t punish yourself out of pride. Stay. I need you.”

  What do you say to that? What do you do? Do you beat on the person’s chest, demanding that the heart let you in because the heart knows better than the brain? Or do you just nod and say, Okay. Fine. I will stay. For now.

  That’s what I said, while a rivulet of liquid mercury entered my veins, solidifying and steeling me against any further rejection, or from ever opening my heart again. It happened so automatically it would have been almost awe-inspiring if it didn’t signal doom. This man had doomed me for love. I had shown him some of my true self, the parts I felt safe showing. But when my deeper secrets were revealed, he rejected me. And it wasn’t just rejection, it was denial, of everything I was and of everything I had been through.

  “So that’s it then?” I asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “We were friends for a long time. I hope we can be friends again. I can be yours, I think, with time.”

  He held out his hand. He wanted me to shake his hand? I looked at it like it was on fire. Don’t cry right now. Cry later.

  And that’s what I did. I worked like a dog for the rest of my shift, training both Claire and our new hire, Maureen, a bartender we stole from the Spotted Cat across the street and who’d eventually replace me downstairs. I hoped, despite their style clash (Claire was a hippie, Maureen a punk) and slight age difference (Claire was almost eighteen, Maureen, twenty-three) that they’d eventually get along.

  I cashed out and left just as a truck pulled up in front of the store and parked. A huge canvas-covered sign jutted out of the cab, casting a shadow over the car behind it. I could make out the top of the big red C of Cassie’s, and that’s when it became all too much. I fled down Frenchmen, past the bike shop, past the Praline Connection and Maison, cutting a hard left at Chartres to the Spinster Hotel, marveling at how much life can change in twenty-four hours. Yesterday at this time, Will and I were heading to Latrobe’s dressed to the nines and looking forward to a future together. Today, I was in sneakers and a stained T-shirt, unlocking my door and running up the stairs leading to my third-floor apartment, barely holding back my tears.