by Portia Moore
“I don’t know how you do it…you don’t feel bad? What about his wife? Does he have kids?” I ask rubbing my temples. Does Jackson know about this? Why would he have me hanging out with his friend’s mistress? What happens when I meet his wife? I’m terrible at keeping secrets. He doesn’t know because we haven’t talked on this subject, but I hate cheaters. A cheater ruined my childhood; my father’s mistress stole him and destroyed our family.
“That is none of my business, I don’t have anything to do with that part of his life. I don’t want to marry him and live happily after. I’m hoping to land this NFL player who’s been in my DM. We have a date next week. Don’t tell Russell.” She says the last part with a wink, tossing her long perfect hair over her shoulder, a whimsical smile on her pretty face. But there’s none on mine. I’m disgusted and ready for lunch to be over.
“I can’t believe you can be so callous. Do you know what this does to families? I’m over this lunch…” I say, starting to search through my purse for cash to leave for the bill. I’ll Uber back. And to think people have called me a cold-hearted bitch.
“Don’t you think you’re being sort of hypocritical Hun?” she asks folding her arms across her chest with a devious smirk. I stare at her deliberately.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask and her eyes narrow in on me while she arches a perfect brow.
Tessa bursts out into laughter.
“Oh sweetie!” She covers her mouth with her hand then leans forward as if she’s about to let me in on a secret.
“You don’t think Jackson is actually single do you?”
Everything around us has gone quiet. Ice water has replaced the blood in my veins. I swallow hard.
“You do!” she says with a haughty laugh
“Of course he is.” I intend for my statement to be strong but my voice is trembling.
“Let me guess, you never saw a ring, he never mentioned a wife or a family, but you’ve never been to an actual home, only expensive hotel suites. Russell is the first person connected to him that you’ve met and even though you’ll swear to anyone that ever asks you after this day, that you didn’t know. The question has always been there buried underneath your better judgment. Hidden there because the answer wasn’t as important as the great sex, the lifestyle, and what you eventually will excuse for love?” she asks all of this, her tone squarely between condescending and pitying. She shakes her head.
I force myself to breath and fight the burning in my throat.
“That’s not true,” I say, tears filling my eyes. But it’s weak. I’m weak.
“I’m not here to judge you Madison, I just ask that you don’t judge me,” she says lightly looking me squarely in the eyes.
Jackson is married.
Jackson lied to me.
Did he lie….
No, she’s lying.
“I would never see a married man. He can’t be if he is…no. My father—” I stop myself because she doesn’t care, none of it matters to her one way or the other.
“Well Hun he is, so you know now, and you have a choice. Several, actually. You can choose not to believe me and not ask Jackson, and continue to be with him guilt-free while convincing yourself that I’m liar. Or go through door number two where you go back and ask him and he tells you. Then you make excuses to yourself and listen to his lies about him leaving his wife. Or three, you take that credit card, run it up to the heavens, and walk away with your expenditures being his karma.”
I really look at her now, and realize I totally misjudged her. I see that she’s not just some young ditzy airheaded bimbo being strung along. She’s calculating and smarter than I’ve given her credit for, and maybe more honest too. It’s Jackson I’ve misjudged. Jackson that’s more of an asshole than Russell because he hid everything from me. He put me here.
“Does he have kids?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“That you should discuss with him.” Her tone is a bit more somber now.
I feel sick.
“I could go for some more shopping if you’re choosing option number three, but I have a feeling you’re not up for that right now.”
I hate myself for being so weak, for ending up here, the place I’ve been trying desperately to avoid my entire life. It can’t be true.
“I’ll take you back,” she says, pulling a hundred-dollar bill out of her bag and leaving it on the table. She extends her hand. I look at her confused, angry, and overwhelmed.
“You can hate me for being a selfish bitch later. Just let me get you out of here, okay?” she says softly. And I do.
Tessa stops me before I get out of her car.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not the first woman who has been blindsided, and you certainly won’t be the last.” I can only nod before I leave her car. As soon as I make it into the elevator, every tear I’ve fought to hold in starts to pour out of me. How did I let this happen? How did I end up here?
How did I become the woman I hated my whole life?
I’m so angry I can barely open the door. My vision is so cloudy with tears. I throw the big Chanel bag onto the bed, barely able to look at. I yell at the top of my lungs. If I was in his house I’d be destroying things right about now, but I’m not because of course mistresses don’t get to be in the home, just a trumped-up expensive slut room to get fucked in.
How could he do this to me?
He lied…no he didn’t. He never said he was married and I never asked. But I should have. I think maybe deep down I did know. Maybe it’s a lie. Maybe Tessa is a liar. But why would she lie, especially when it’d hurt her in the end? What am I going to do if it’s not a lie?
I’m going to walk away. There’s no question about it…I could never stay with him.
I almost hate him, but almost isn’t good enough. I have to get him back. He can’t do this to me, but the thought of hurting him is almost unimaginable. I get in the shower and try to wash away my anger—despite the fury building within me—to drown out the hopelessness and try to get some type of clarity before I see him.
Seven
I’m at the window looking out over the city when he walks in. My face is streaked with dry tears. I have nothing left in me; all my anger, pain, and joy all poured out. I turn to him and his face morphs from elation to dread.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, starting to approach me. But when my eyes meet his he stops in his tracks.
“Jackson.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Are you married?” My body is strangling my heart and I have to fight to breathe. The color has drained from his face. A stretch of silence puts miles between us. His eyes cut from mine.
“Are you fucking married!” I shout but it’s choked and almost limps out of my throat.
“Yes.” Guilt overtakes every feature he has. The moment the words leave his lips my body starts to tremble.
“Please let me explain,” he begs. He tries to touch me but I throw my arm in front of him and then swat him away…now I’m hitting him until he grabs me and holds me to him. But I don’t want to feel his skin. I don’t want to be next to him. I don’t want him to touch me.
“Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me. Liar! You’re a liar!” I want out of his arms, away from him. I’m flailing my body like a mad woman until he finally manages to usher me over to the bed and holds me down.
“Please, Madison, let me explain, let me talk to you.”
“Get off of me. Get off. Get off!” I’m screaming, begging, yelling, shouting. He holds me a few moments before letting me go. I crawl away from him on the bed and cover my face with my knees, tears pouring from my eyes, trying to catch my breath.
“When I met you, I didn’t think it would go this far,” he says, voice low and solemn, his chest caving in.
“I-I thought that it would just be a one-night stand type of thing. You said you weren’t looking for anything serious. You just rejected a proposal.” I feel him shift his body to turn towards me but I’m not looking
at him. I can’t.
“That doesn’t excuse the fact you have a wife.” My voice is like glass…cracks all through it.
“I know,” he says uncomfortably.
“You told me you were sleeping with just me,” I squeak out. He turns to me, trying to approach. I instantly move further away; his head drops down. “That’s not a lie?”
“We haven’t…it’s been a long time since we’ve loved each other. I know it’s not an excuse…”
“It isn’t! Do you know what you’ve done to me?” I’m out of the bed again and in his face.
“You’ve made me a mistress, Jackson…” My voice is weak and my eyes flood with tears. “You’re the first person that I’ve let into my heart, that I started to let my guard down with, and you’re someone else’s husband. Did you think I was just some stupid girl who wouldn’t care because you bought me a stupid bag and clothes?” I pick up the Chanel box and throw it across the room. “Because we took trips?!” I roar through tears.
“No, that’s not what I think of you. I swear to you sweetheart.” His voice is shaky, he looks broken. It’s not fair for him to look like that when he’s caused all of this.
“Don’t you say that to me! You don’t get to call me that!” I’ve screamed so much my throat hurts as despair rocks through me.
“Do you have kids?” I ask so quietly it’s almost like a whisper. I’m surprised he even hears me and when his eyes meet mine I see it and I want to throw up. In fact, I’m about to. I run to the bathroom and the champagne and tequila spill out.
“Not kids,” he tells me from the doorway, as if that will make me feel better.
“My daughter is twenty—”
“Stop! I don’t want to hear anymore.” I push myself up from the toilet. A daughter that’s only two years younger than me.
“So you’re not staying for the children,” I say sarcastically before I pour water into my mouth and across my face.
“It’s so complicated, if you’ll let me explain,” he pleads, coming near me again. I shove him away and storm past him.
I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t listen to his explanations or lies. I start to gather my things.
“If at the end of the conversation you’re still married, no explanation you have will mean anything to me.” I cry and slam my hands on my suitcase.
“Madison, I love you…” Tears glisten in his eyes. I can’t hold in my sobs any longer and turn away from him. He comes behind me, pulling me to his hard chest, and I’m too weak to push him away.
“Please, forgive me. Let me make this right,” he begs, holding me tightly. It still feels good. I still feel safe and I hate myself for it…I know it’s just an illusion.
“Nothing is ever going to be right about this. You’ve tainted what we could have had. You have no idea what cheating men have done to my life, what that does to a family.” I cry as he begins kissing my neck, promising to make things better.
“I’m going to get a divorce, and it’s not bullshit, it’s happening. I can show you emails and text messages. Things have been terrible between us.” I push him away at hearing the word us.
“You made me remember what it’s like to be in love, to have a partner that makes you laugh and smile and remember that life isn’t just about going through the motions. I haven’t felt like this in forever. This wasn’t just about sex. I love you and I’ve been falling in love with you. I’d ask you something but under these circumstances you’d hate me for it and you ran away from the last guy that did…but I already picked out a ring.”
My head snaps up and I look at him floored. Is he referring to what I think he’s referring to?
“At my age it doesn’t take years, I know what I want…and when this is over I hope when I ask you’ll say yes.”
“Are you seriously proposing to me while you’re married!” He’s insane, a selfish insane bastard that has shattered my heart.
“No, I’m just letting you know my intentions.” He’s pleading, his voice lighter than it’s ever been.
I close my eyes for what seems like an eternity, thinking of what could be, what might have been if things were different. If we were different. If we were in a different dimension where my father never cheated and left our family. If he was an actual single man. If our love wouldn’t destroy his family. If I could look at him without resentment. But when I open my eyes we aren’t in that world and we never will be. I approach him. He’s sitting on the bed looking as if he’s the one that’s crushed. Tears in his own eyes, his shoulders slumped, his hair and clothes wild from us tussling. I lean down and lift his chin and bring my lips to his. My body still tingles, my blood heats up, my heart trips over itself. The butterflies haven’t gotten the memo that he’s a lying selfish bastard. When he attempts to deepen it by pulling me onto him it takes everything in me to pull away. He looks up at me, his eyes full of confusion, hope, and despair.
“I never…I never want to see you again Jackson.” I stand up and grab my things, which are already packed. I leave the bag and walk out the door, each step more painful than the last. He continues to plead. Begging, holding on to me, trying to pull me back. I don’t say a word and just make my way down the hall to the elevator.
An older couple exits their rooms and look over at us. Jackson gathers his composure but still walks with me, joining me in the elevator. Silence choking the atmosphere. The older couple’s banter has stopped. When we reach the ground floor he follows me, still imploring me to come back upstairs, saying he’ll take me back home. I pull out my phone and call an Uber to the airport.
“Please don’t leave.” I can’t count how many times he’s said this but I only look ahead of me, unmoved. When my car arrives he tries to step in front of me to keep me from leaving.
“I’m already embarrassed enough, please don’t make me embarrass myself even more by causing a scene. But I will if you don’t let me go,” I say, my voice dry but strong. Looking into the eyes that were so beautiful to me this morning only bring me despair. He nods and moves from the door. I throw my bag in and get in behind it. He holds the door a few moments as I try to shut it.
“I’m going to come for you once my divorce is final. Don’t give up on us. I screwed up…but I love you Madison.” While he holds my wrist in his hand, he’s on his knees, his eyes clouded with tears and desperation. It takes every ounce of strength I have but I take my wrist from him, push him gently away, and shut the door. When I do, I break out in tears.
The first few days after my dad left, my mom was normal. She took us to school, helped us with our homework, we ate dinner together, and things seemed like they would be okay. Different, but good. Our world hadn’t been destroyed. It felt like he was on a business trip and would be back as soon as he could. Melissa told herself that; she told our friends and anyone who would listen. There was something inside of me that knew it wasn’t true, regardless of how Mel and I hoped and wished that dad would come back.
I had made peace with that in my six-year-old brain somehow, but that next month something broke in her. She woke up one day and was just…different.
My mom was never truly happy again. She rarely smiled and when she did it only hid pain. She cried at random times. Our homemade dinners became McDonalds and Burger King and Pizza Hut, which was fun at first but became wearing even for two junk food-loving kids. She stopped cleaning and her beautiful golden hair became dull, her eyes were no longer bright or sparkled. She stopped living, and only existed. Mel went from my sister and best friend to stepping into the role my mother left empty.
The pain she wore was something I never wanted. I promised myself I’d avoid any possibility of it and until Jackson, I had. But I didn’t run fast enough. I guess I couldn’t outsmart destiny. I got home in the middle of the night and was able to avoid Mel’s interrogation about where I’d been and what my plan was, until the next day. When she came into my room I was buried under the covers. Maybe she sensed that something was very wrong because she did
n’t ask me what was going on, nor did she ask me twenty questions like I was expecting her to. She just let me be.
She let me be for four days and on the fifth I guess she couldn’t help herself. I was still in the pajamas I put on after the one shower I had the night I arrived. I smelled terrible, looked terrible, and besides Cheetos, Gatorade, and other random snacks I bought in the airport, I hadn’t eaten anything since I’d been home. I don’t want to eat; all I want to do is sleep. I pretend to be asleep when she comes in the room but she immediately goes to the windows, opening the blinds so sunlight pours in. I still don’t move an inch, until she pulls the covers off of me.
She stares at me blankly but has a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.
“Madison what is going on?” she asks me flatly, no sympathy in her voice. Any sympathy she had probably dissolved after the four days she left me alone.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell her, turning on my stomach and stuffing my face in my pillow.
“Your phone is off, and it’s been off since you’ve been home.”
On the way home from the airport Jackson kept calling and sending me text messages. I didn’t want to deal with them. I still don’t.
“I just need time,” I whisper.
“Time for what? What happened!” she asks, her voice only slightly raised. I don’t say anything. I hear her walk beside me and she sits on the bed, pushing me off my stomach. She ushers the coffee towards me and I take a small sip to appease her. I see there’s a muffin on the nightstand next to the bed.
“You look like hell. This room is a mess and you stink.” Her face is scrunched up and she moves a few inches away from me. I open my mouth and try to expel a lie but my brain is foggy, having only been nourished by junk food, and I can’t even think of a plausible one to tell her.
“I found out that Jackson is married,” I say, avoiding her gaze.
“What?” she says, her voice soft and more sympathetic than I expected.