She kissed me. “Good,” she answered.
After that, I never went to another poker night again. Every third Wednesday night became our date night.
SARAH
Vincent was right; the food was incredible. I sat there at my birthday dinner with five of my closet friends. The ambiance was amazing. Asian décor on the walls, all in red and gold, nice Japanese plates with ceramic chopsticks. The wall of the bar changed colors every few minutes and illuminated the bottles of alcohol. The service was on point, too—the second my glass was getting close to empty, a waitress was there asking if I’d like another. The music was more suited to a dance club than a restaurant. The only thing missing that would have made my night truly perfect was him.
When we were done eating, Isabel asked me to go out with her while she smoked a cigarette. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, once we got outside.
“Wrong? Nothing I’m having a great time,” I replied.
She looked at me like she didn’t buy it. I looked down. “I just wish he could be here,” I admitted.
“You know what I love about superheroes?” she asked me, taking a pull of her cigarette.
“The hot guys who play them?” I asked.
“Well yes, obviously, the hot guys are definitely a plus, but even more so- the realness of their situations. Typically, they don’t end up with the girl they want to be with. Whether they are protecting their identity, or don’t wanna put them in harm’s way. Life is like a superhero movie, Bianca. You don’t end up with the person you’re supposed to be with or want to be with; you end up with the person that makes the most sense. It’s a business deal, not a romance novel. It’s human nature, it’s inevitable. You are always going to want what you can’t have.”
I looked at her skeptically. “Yeah, the thing about superhero movies is that the men have superpowers. I wouldn’t put them on the list of top realistic movies.”
She laughed. “I mean the ‘love story,’” she said, making air quotation marks.
Then she asked, “If you had to wake up in a different time, when would it be?”
I thought about it. “Probably in the past. Maybe the fifties. When there wasn’t so much pressure to be a woman, when people didn’t expect you to not only be the same but be better than men.”
“I think I’d want to wake up in the seventies. Free love, drugs,” she said.
“I’m not surprised,” I laughed.
As we walked back to the table, the staff was coming out with a cake, singing “Happy Birthday.” I figured that was why Isabel had told me to go outside—to give my friends time to secretly tell the waitress to bring it—until I saw the look of confusion on everyone’s faces.
“Thank you,” I said to the waitress.
“We’ll take the check, please,” Isabel requested.
“The check has already been taken care of,” the waitress informed us. “Happy Birthday.”
I looked over at Isabel. She leaned into me. “At least you know even if he’s not here, his wallet is,” she said, smiling.
It was a really sweet gesture, but I would have preferred him over his wallet any day of the week.
On our fourth monthly Wednesday night out in a row, we were somewhere down the shore of New Jersey at a nice sushi restaurant. A very romantic spot, with candles on each table and relaxing meditation-like music playing softly through the speakers. It was the first time Vincent had ordered me sake, and not only did I like the taste, but boy did it give me a buzz.
He was a real good eater, and liked so many different foods. I was never adventurous when it came to tasting new foods, but he made me try everything. He ordered all these different kinds of sushi rolls: tuna, octopus, eel. By now, he knew exactly what I would like and what I wouldn’t. I didn’t know if it was the sake, the lighting, or the black shirt he was wearing, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. Ever since I’d told him he looked good in black, he’d started wearing a different black shirt every time we went out. He always did sweet things like that. We were really having a good time, enjoying an in-depth conversation when suddenly, he looked behind me, and his face dropped. I couldn’t help but turn around to see what he was looking at. A couple was approaching us.
“Vince!” the guy said.
Vincent stood up. “Oh, hey Steve, how’s it going? I would never have expected running into you here.”
Steve was an older chubby guy with a not-so-attractive wife. He was balding a bit and seemed quite a bit older than Vincent. I couldn’t imagine how they even knew each other.
“My sister has a shore house here. We were spending the day there, and she suggested this place for dinner, claimed the sushi was phenomenal. This is my wife, Jennifer,” Steve said, introducing her to Vincent. Then he turned to his wife and said, “This is one of my bosses, Vince.”
The woman shook his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you!” she said, making Vincent flash a phony smile. I now knew Vincent’s real smiles versus his fake ones.
“Eh, only half of it is true,” Vincent joked.
There was an awkward silence as the couple stood there looking at me, waiting for him to introduce me. “This is Bianca,” he said. “My cousin.”
I tried so hard not to show shock on my face when he introduced me as his cousin. The couple very nicely said hello and stood next to us, talking for a few more minutes. They ended the conversation with “see you in the office tomorrow.”
When they left, Vincent sat back down and started playing with his chopsticks. “Wow, who would have thought I’d run into someone here?” he said, taking another sip of sake.
I didn’t say much until we left the restaurant. It was when we were getting into the car that I finally exclaimed, “Your cousin?”
He didn’t answer right away. He opened the door for me, and then walked around and got in through his side. Before he started the car, he looked at me and said, “What was I supposed to say? My girlfriend? He knows I’m married, and he knows you’re not her.”
“Don’t you think your wife is going to know that you don’t have a cousin named Bianca?” I asked.
“Steve doesn’t know her. It won’t ever come up,” he said.
“Then how would he know I’m not her?” I asked.
“From the pictures in my office,” he replied, as if that were an obvious answer.
Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that he had pictures of his wife in his office. I looked down.
“Oh, come on, all husbands have pictures of their wives in their offices. Don’t make a big deal about this, please. We were having such a good night; let’s not end on a bad note.”
He wasn’t wrong. I really had no right to be mad. I knew he was married. What else was could he have said? We’d been dating for a year and a half—by that point, I knew the situation I was getting into. We’d never fought before, and I wasn’t going to start now. It wasn’t fair.
“You’re right,” I said.
We were silent the entire ride back. It was only 10 p.m. when he dropped me at my house. “Do you want to come in?” I asked, breaking the silence.
He stared straight ahead out the windshield. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked, not turning his head.
I’m pretty sure he thought I was mad. “Yes, I do,” I said.
He looked at me, relieved. “Then, yes, I would really like to come in.”
Once he was inside, I no longer felt anything but love and attraction for him. The second we started kissing, it was like nothing had happened to potentially ruin the night.
The next weekend was the Tony Awards. I was incredibly tense in my dressing room when Isabel walked in. She was wearing a long black gown with her hair tied up.
“You look great!” I said.
“I feel like a celebrity!. I just need some bling,” she answered. “But oh my God, look at you!” She made me stand up and do a turnaround. “Bianca, you look gorgeous! Before we go, I just
want you to know that I am so proud of you!”
“I’m so nervous. I feel like I am going to puke,” I admitted.
She came over to me and took my hand. “Hey, whatever happens tonight doesn’t matter. You are an unbelievable actress and you made it this far! I am so jealous of you. Seriously, no joke—you inspire me.”
I looked at her with gratitude. Isabel was never mushy and didn’t usually say things like that.
“Hey, if I could sing, I would audition for Broadway too—but I wouldn’t want to show you up,” she added, laughing. Now this was the Isabel that I knew!
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” I told her.
“Me too,” she responded.
We were seated at our table: Isabel, to one side of me and Matt on the other. We’d been nominated for three awards. Matt was in the Best New Actor in a Musical category; I was nominated for Best New Actress in a Musical category, and the show itself was up for Best New Musical. This was it. This was what I’d worked my entire life for.
I went to shut my phone off as the show was starting, and there was a text from Vincent: Wish I could be with you in person, but know that I’m watching and rooting for you. Good luck, beautiful! I love you.
I smiled and shut my phone off, and the show began. Of the three awards we were nominated for, Best New Actress came up first. My heart was beating so fast, and my hands were sweaty. I’d never been so nervous about anything in my life.
I waited while the actress presenting the award announced the nominees. The second she said, “Bianca Evans, Wounds of Time,” Isabel squeezed my hand. Matt looked just as nervous as I felt.
“And the Tony goes to…”
I think the hardest role I ever had to play as an actress was pretending I was genuinely happy for the woman who just beat me out of an award. The award I’d dreamt about since I was a little girl. The award I’d worked so hard for. As she went up to receive her trophy, I smiled and clapped.
I even blew her a kiss when she looked over at me, but I was crushed inside. Matt also lost in the category of Best Actor in a New Musical. When they got up to presenting Best New Musical, Matt and I felt hopeless. I had already wanted to go home forty minutes earlier.
“The next award is for Best New Musical,” the gentleman on the stage announced. I almost didn’t even understand what he said next until Isabel jumped up in excitement. “Wounds of Time!”
Matt and I leapt up and hugged each other. Both of us had tears in our eyes as we, along with the cast, walked up to accept the award. I shook so hard that I could barely walk. Matt held my hand, and the rest of the show was a daze.
When I opened the door for Vincent the next day for lunch, I couldn’t even see him over the huge bouquet of flowers he held. He set the flowers down on the coffee table and gave me a big hug and kiss. Then he handed me a Tiffany’s box.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Open it,” he said.
I slowly opened the box, and inside was a stunning diamond bracelet. I didn’t own anything that sparkled that much.
“I’m so proud of you!” he boasted. “Congratulations.”
I put the box down next to the flowers. “For what? I lost,” I said, disappointed.
He came over to me and pulled me into him. Very sympathetically he said, “You didn’t lose, you just didn’t win.”
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. “Is there a difference?” I asked.
He looked straight at me, eye to eye. “Yeah, there’s a difference. You were nominated, one of five! That puts you in the top five ranking of actresses in New York City. That’s amazing! And, you won Best New Musical! Best New Musical!” he repeated. “If it wasn’t for you and Matt, that show may not have won. If any other actress was in your role, you don’t know what the outcome would have been. The two of you are the show. You’re twenty-eight years old and the leading actress in a Tony Award-winning show! You should be incredibly proud of that!”
I smiled and hugged him. He always knew the right thing to say. He ended up making me feel a lot better. Not from the Tiffany’s box, but from the words that came out of his mouth.
The summer seemed to fly by. Soon it was September, and his birthday was coming up. I wanted to do something special for him, but what did you get someone who had everything? Not like I could even buy him something that he could take home. His birthday fell on a Wednesday, but not the third Wednesday of the month, so he took the day off to spend it with me. He said the only thing he wanted for his birthday was an entire day, together.
So that’s what we did. He came early in the morning and we spent the whole day together. Relaxing, watching movies, I ordered a nice lunch for us. I had wanted to make him dinner, but he thought it would be easier to take the day off of work than it would to get out at night. After lunch, I asked him if he wanted his birthday present. He was surprised that I got him something. He was probably thinking the same thing I had—what could I possibly buy him that he could bring home?
“I’ll be right back,” I said and excused myself into my bedroom. I returned wearing a very skimpy piece of black see-through lingerie with fishnet stockings and garter belts, an outfit I bought especially for the occasion. I finished the look with a pair of heels that I had from my strip club days. On my hip was a silver bow.
“Wow,” he said. “Been a while since I’ve seen you like this.” He looked very enthusiastic to “unwrap” his gift.
I stood over him as he sat on the couch. “Take the bow off,” I said.
He took the bow off slowly, squinting as he tried to peer through the see-through lingerie. “What is that?”
“Unwrap it,” I replied.
He slid the lingerie up and stared in amazement. On my hip, I had a new tattoo: a fairy wearing a Santa hat. “Since you said I’ll always be your Christmas fairy, now you’ll always be a part of me.”
He just stared silently. “Wow, that is… just wow,” he said. He pulled me on his lap, let out a little sigh, and said, “Where were you when I was twenty?”
I laughed. “I was four, but let me assure you—I was kind of a big deal on the playground.”
“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he said.
We had sex right there on the couch. I’d still never told him that I loved him. I did love him, so much, but it was just hard for me to say the words. I’d never said those words to anyone. I always felt like he wondered why I didn’t tell him, and wondered if I loved him at all. But at that moment, he knew, just exactly how much I loved him. He was now permanently on my body. I think that night was the happiest I’d ever seen him.
The next day, I grabbed Matt before the show started.
“Hey Matt…,” I said, using my most persuasive tone. He knew something was up.
“Hey Bianca…” he mimicked back.
“I need a favor,” I said. He looked at me, probably wondering what was going to come out of my mouth next. “Do you have a date to Drew’s wedding?”
I hated weddings—especially coworker weddings where I didn’t have a date. I’d dragged Isabel to so many different events; it was only a matter of time before rumors started flying that I was gay.
“I’m seeing this guy Dave. Not sure if I’m going to ask him yet. More of a casual sex thing, and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea,” he answered. “Why, aren’t you going with Vincent?”
I couldn’t tell Matt that Vincent was married. At least being gay wouldn’t ruin my reputation. Being a mistress to a married man, however, would.
“He has a business trip,” I lied.
I hated having to lie to Matt. We’d gotten so close since the show had started, but I had no other choice. I needed a date to the wedding—and that date clearly wasn’t going to be Vincent.
SAMANTHA
I’d just finished with my personal trainer and had stopped by the supermarket to grab a few things. I despised running errands after working out. I felt sweaty and gross, so
my intention was to get in and out as quickly as possible. All the other women in the supermarket looked like they were getting ready to go out for the night straight after shopping—wheeling their carts with their designer bags and toy dogs in the baskets, wearing high heels.
While I checked the expiration dates on yogurt, I heard a man’s voice from behind me.
“Samantha!”
It was Adam, one of Vince’s friends from when we first moved to New York. The two of them used to play on a men’s softball league together, back when Vince had time to have hobbies. Adam hadn’t aged well. He had a big belly and a receding hairline, and it didn’t even look like he and Vince could be the same age. He wore dress pants and a button-down shirt, but the buttons were pulling a bit. I was so used to Vince in his expensive suits that I no longer liked the look of men in button-downs without ties.
“You look fantastic!” he said.
I brushed the loose strands of hair out of my face. I was still in yoga pants, a hoodie, and had my hair tied back in a ponytail. I looked far from fantastic.
“Thanks,” I said. “I just finished working out. I don’t normally look like this.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to say that, especially since he was complimenting me.
“How are the kids?” he asked.
“They’re doing amazing, thanks—both away in college. Nick is studying some sort of computer thing, and Casey is going for a psychology degree,” I said. “How have you been?”
“Same shit, different day. Still working at the bank, you know, living the dream.” He laughed, implying he was not happy with his job. “Where has Vince been? Too much of a big shot to show up to poker games anymore? Shit, I haven’t seen him in months, you need to let him out more. Tell him I miss taking his money.”
I never tried so hard to keep a smile on my face. I was in complete shock. Vince hadn’t been going to poker games anymore? Then where was he going on those Wednesday nights? I wasn’t surprised at the idea that he cheated, but once a month? Was he spending all those nights with the same person? “You know Vince. He gets really consumed in his work.”
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