That’s why I thought nothing of moving to Connecticut with Mike when he offered me something more, a happily ever after that I had believed only existed in fairy tales and movies. I was wrong about Mike and the perfect life we pretended to have. We haven’t even had sex in two months, which I blamed on his late nights at the office and stress from the promotion. At least now, I know the real reason.
Reaching for my cell phone on the bed next to me, I check to see if Mike even bothered to call. He didn’t. What a bastard.
I’m in the mood for a real man bashing session, and the one person who I know will give it to me is my mother. She’s the ultimate man hater, especially after my father left her without a word and no money to her name. It’s funny how history is repeating itself in a way. Good thing I never had children with Mike, or I would be my mother right now. That would suck.
My vision blurs as I hit the button for my mom in my Contacts, unsure if I hit Mike or Mom. I roll the dice to see who I get as I hold the phone up to my ear. The line rings several times before it goes to voicemail. Hearing Mike’s voice makes my stomach knot and brings more tears to my eyes.
I hang up the phone and curl up into a ball, hating the fact he can’t even pick up the phone after what he did to me. What he did to us. Sobbing uncontrollably, I cry so hard every muscle in my body hurts. I want to die. Or at the very least I want to be put out of my misery, even if it’s only a temporary fix.
Finding the courage to call my mother, this time making sure to dial her instead of Mike, I press the phone to my ear and wait, hoping she will answer.
“Hey, sweetie,” she slurs on the fourth ring. It’s well after midnight, which means my mother is at least two six packs into her evening. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I squeak out, choking on my tears. “Mike is cheating on me with his secretary. I walked into his office—”
“He did what? I am going to kill that little prick.”
“Mom, calm down. What’s done is done. I just wanted to talk to you. I know you’ve been through this before with Dad. How did you move on?”
She sighs into the receiver. “Baby, I never moved on. The pain of him leaving was always there. But as time passes, each day gets easier. Plus, I had you to keep me company. I’m not sure how I would have dealt with things if I didn’t have to raise you.”
“I’m sure your life would have turned out better if you didn’t have me around. Do you wish things had turned out differently?”
Somehow hearing about her past is helping me deal with the present. I need to keep her talking until I fall asleep, which may be soon given the amount of sleeping pills I have taken in the past two hours.
“Of course. If I could do things all over again, I would have made better choices. The one decision I will never regret is you if that’s what you are getting at.”
“Mom, I just want you to know that I love you. Just in case something happens to me.”
“I love you, too, sweetie, but what are you talking about?” Her concern and irritation are evident in every word. “Don’t say things like that without explaining yourself.”
“I wanted to numb the pain, the same way you do.”
My body feels as though it’s floating above me, soaring to new heights. I haven’t gotten this drunk or high since college, and I love the feeling. All my troubles fade away. No more lying fiancé or his cockwhore. Her head bobbing up and down on his dick is an image that will forever live in my mind. And I hate her for that, but I hate him more.
“What did you take, Chloe?” My mother screams into the phone. “Answer me!”
“Chill. Just some sleeping pills.” I laugh to myself, titling my head to the side so I can get some rest. “And a half bottle of vodka. Maybe more.” Pins and needles run down my arms and legs. I can barely feel my face. This is nice.
“I am not laughing. This is not funny, Chloe. I’m calling someone to help you.”
“Who? Mike?” I spit into the phone, doing my best to keep it up to my ear. “I already called him. He could care less what happens to me. I could die right now, and he wouldn’t give two shits. I'll be fine, Mom. I just need some sleep.”
“I’m worried, and with you so far away, I have no way to help you. Promise me that you will be okay in the morning. You can’t go throwing your life away because of Mike.”
“I’m not,” I say, fighting off sleep and so close to some peace and quiet. “I will call you when I wake up.”
“You’re coming home, Chloe. Pack your shit tomorrow, and get your ass back here. I miss you. At a time like this, you need your mother.”
If I could keep them open, I would roll my eyes. “Okay, Mom. Goodnight.”
“Night, baby.”
I click the End button on my phone and roll onto my side, curling up into a ball in the middle of the king size bed. Thoughts of Mike invade my head once again. Pushing them away, I close my eyes tighter, focusing on happier times. And that’s when my college fling comes to mind. Jackson, the man I left behind. The man I walked away from when I vowed to give everything I had to Mike.
Finding comfort in Jackson and the good times we shared, I allow the pills to take me away, hopefully to a better place.
Chapter Three
Chloe
It has been almost five years since I last stepped foot in Philadelphia. Driving through the city and back to my mother’s house is not one of my finest moments. In fact, I balled my eyes out most of the ride over here, only to break down again once I pulled up in front of the rowhouse where I grew up. I have hit a new low.
I tried to cling onto what I had left behind—a beautiful house in a picturesque neighborhood, an Amex black card with no limit, and of course, the cheating, lying, sack of shit I was about to marry. I have no qualms about leaving him behind. Though I will miss some of the perks of being engaged to a hotshot attorney. After having a three-car garage for the past few years, I was spoiled. That’s a luxury I never had.
And I sure as hell did not miss parallel parking in the city. Trying to wedge my SUV into such a cramped space has me so anxious I can barely function. My brain shuts down as I try to remember how to park, none of the movements coming back to me as I throw the gear in reverse. Turning the wheel, I keep my fingers crossed that I don’t hit the cars in front or behind me.
Combined with my already existing nerves that creep up the back of my throat, choking me, I have trouble catching my breath. After I had discovered Mike with his secretary, I had nowhere else to go. I wasn’t about to continue to live in the house we had bought together. It was no longer my home or the place where I’d thought we would start a family. All that I left behind are painful memories I desperately want to forget.
Wiping the tears from my face, I try to compose myself before my mom freaks out again and starts shit talking about Mike. She has been doing the same thing for the past few days, and I’m getting tired of having the same conversations. Mike wins every time I allow my emotions to get the best of me.
I glance in the rearview mirror and smooth out my makeup, the mascara already beginning to streak my cheeks. I hate Mike for doing this to me. I hate men in general. But I have to woman-up and get my sorry ass back to living. I have been a zombie since the night I realized my engagement was a sham.
Before I exit my car, I hear my mother screaming my name to my right. I pretend she’s not there for a few seconds before she’s at it again. She has a super nasally South Philly accent you can’t miss that reminds me of nails running down a chalkboard. I dropped most of my accent while living in Connecticut. Sometimes it comes back when I’m talking to people on the phone, but for the most part, it’s untraceable.
I look out the passenger side door as she waves to me from the sidewalk in front of her house in the most obnoxious fashion.
Fear mixed with panic hits me all at once, registering on my face, which earns a frown from my mother. The woman never misses a beat. She can see right through the façade when I try to hide my feeling
s. While she may know me the best, I have a hard time opening up to her.
My mother has not let me live down what she suspects was my attempt at suicide. It wasn’t. Now, she’s terrified I will try to kill myself with pills and alcohol. Maybe I was. I wasn’t thinking at the time. I wanted the pain to go away, and I made it happen. Even if the fix was only temporary.
Getting out of the car, my legs are shaking. I never thought I would end up back in Philly and in this house, of all places. The memories I left behind after college had stayed at bay for so many years, only for them to come flooding back right now. Overwhelmed with emotion, I hold onto the hood to steady myself. It’s as if I have gone backwards instead of moving on with my life, the way I had intended.
“Chloe,” Mom yells into my ear as she lunges herself at me.
I wrap my arms around her, taking in the scent of her laundry detergent mixed with a hint of cigarettes. Mom plants a kiss on my cheek and then coughs up a lung for a second before she clamps down on my shoulders, holding me at an arm’s-length.
“You look awful, honey. I hate seeing you like this.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom.” I feign a smile for her benefit. “Once I unpack and settle into my old room, we can make some tea and watch your programs.”
The concept of sitting through one of her rerun marathons of I Love Lucy, even though it’s a good show, makes me want to jump in front of the car whipping down the one-way street. I’m not suicidal, despite the incident with the wine and sleeping pills, but lasting one week with my mother, after all these years on my own gives me crazy thoughts.
“Come inside,” she says, dropping her arms down at her side, staring into my eyes.
Checking out the trunk that I piled to the roof, I roll my eyes. I have no room left in my brain for this shit. And, since I haven’t slept much since that night, the one my brain will not allow me to forget, my body is so tired and heavy, as if weighed down by sand. Dragging my feet toward the front door, I sling my handbag over my shoulder and stare up at the row of brick rowhouses.
Home sweet home. Kill me now.
After listening to my mother ramble on about my father—who I don’t even remember anymore—followed by Mike, I ended up falling asleep on the couch. She jabbered on for hours, all while chain smoking and knocking back beers as if she had turned into Snoop Dog, pounding forties. Drinking only enhances her word vomit. I hate when she drinks. It’s part of the reason my father had left in the first place, yet she continues the same behavior.
Tired and irritated, I climb the stairs to my old bedroom, desperate to sleep in bed. I slept on the couch in the basement of my old house for most of this week until I worked up the nerve to move back to Philly. Coming home was not an easy decision.
When I fled mid-way through college, I left behind one of the most important people in my life. And I did it all because Mike had more to offer me at the time. He swept me off my feet by the third date, and I was following him back to Connecticut before I’d realized what I had agreed to.
Standing the doorway, I take a deep breath as I flip on the light switch and step inside. The room still has the powder pink comforter from when I was in high school, a collage of old pictures with my friends on a tack board, and enough girly shit to make someone think they are in a child’s bedroom. It’s as if someone vomited My Little Pony and The Powderpuff Girls all over this bitch.
My cheerleading pom poms are still sitting on the vanity next to a makeup kit along with a collection of perfumes and body sprays. Even my uniform is hanging up on a hook in front of the closet door. Since I moved, my mother had come to visit me. I avoided the city because of the man I had left behind. But I was too afraid I would run into Jackson again an open up old wounds.
Broad shouldered, well over six feet tall, and smart as hell, I really scored when I had found Jackson King. Or at least that’s what I had thought. He was the student professor for my psychology class, nerdy cute, and completely off limits.
At one point, I thought he would risk it all. But he was afraid he would ruin his career. We were good friends, and I loved him, hoped he would change his mind. Then, I met Mike, who had swept me off my feet and promised me the world. Until he turned out to be a womanizing pig.
As I sit down on the mattress, it groans to life, squeaking beneath my weight. Plywood would be more comfortable than this old bed with it’s ridiculous pink ruffles, lace, and tulle. I better get used to the accommodations.
My cell phone buzzes in my jean pocket, sending a tremor down my leg. Every time the phone rings now I get sick to my stomach. Mike’s whore had the nerve to call me after I caught them in the act just to rub it in and to tell me to stay away from her man. I hadn’t even packed a bag before that stank ass bitch had the nerve to harass me as if I was the one invading her territory.
At twenty-five years old, I never thought I would be sitting here, in my childhood room, with and ex fiancé and no children. My plan has gone to shit. I feel like a failure even though I can’t blame myself for Mike’s wandering dick. Or can I? Part of me assumes responsibility for his actions, while the other part tells me I did everything I could to make him happy, and in the end, it still wasn’t good enough for him.
I remove the phone from my pocket with a sigh, nervous about the caller on the other end of the line.
Relief washes over me when I see Olivia Ford’s name on the Caller ID. “Hey,” I say, now glowing with excitement.
“You’re back!” Her voice hurts my eardrum she talks so loud. “We are so getting together tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you.”
One of the good things about coming back to Philly is that my oldest friend is still single. Or at least she’s not seriously dating anyone. Olivia already promised we would have a party to celebrate my introduction back into single life. I have missed the shit out of her since I moved to Connecticut, stuck living in a big, lonely house by myself and with no friends.
I lean against the wall and snuggle up with one of the frilly pillows on the bed. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’m teaching a class until noon, but how about we meet at Broad Street Beans.”
“Yeah, that works for me.”
After college, Olivia went to law school at Strickland University and now teaches Law and Ethics at the College. She’s five years older than me and has always had her shit together. Strick U is a very prestigious school. I’m not thrilled that she chose a coffee shop full of students and on a college campus, but I am dying to see my friend after all this time apart.
“Awesome. I hate to do this, but I have to get going. I met this guy a few weeks ago, and well, he’s here right now and knocking on my door.”
“I thought you were single.” My smile turns into a tiny frown. “I was looking forward to having a girl’s night out.”
“I am…sort of. I really have no idea what’s going on with this one. He’s my student. It’s complicated. But we will definitely go out one night this week.”
“Shut up! You’re dating a student? Isn’t that like against the law or something?”
She sighs. “Technically, no.”
I hear her moving around her apartment, followed by a man’s voice, as he whispers the dirtiest shit I’ve ever heard in her ear.
“Mark,” she giggles, “I’m on the phone. She can hear you.”
“Be a good girl and hang up right now before I have to punish you.” His voice is so fucking sexy I am dying to see if his face matches. Judging by the sounds coming from Olivia, I would say that the answer is yes.
“I really have to go,” Olivia moans into the phone. “Mark, stop it.” There’s a long, awkward pause before she finishes, “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. Gotta run.”
Then, the line goes dead, leaving me alone once again with my thoughts, which is never a good thing. My first thought is to go back downstairs and help myself to one of my mother’s cans of cheap beer. But I don’t want her to think I’m up here, popping pills and getting wasted. So, I clo
se my eyes and get comfortable. The duvet is rough and scratchy against my skin and smells of dust.
I sneeze a few times, clearing it out of my system before my lids get heavy. Closing my eyes, I focus on seeing Olivia tomorrow and do my best to block out the other shit plaguing me. Without even trying, I drift off to sleep, and without the help of pills or alcohol.
Tomorrow is another day.
Chapter Four
Jackson
I’m jonesing like a motherfucker. My hands are shaking so bad I look as though I have a tick. Wiping the sweat coating my palms down the front of my black slacks, I do my best not to run into the restroom before my date gets here. If it were an ordinary day when my craving had taken over, I would I deal with the problem myself.
But after imaging mystery woman’s tits all morning and the way her lips felt wrapped around my cock yesterday during lunch, I can’t wait to stick my dick in her. We’re meeting for sex in a public bathroom. For the second day in a row. Despite my usual rule of no repeats, her hummer skills were too good not to try out once more.
And I’m desperate. I have a sickness. I need sex like a junkie needs their next fix. The high only lasts so long before the craving comes back. Then, my willpower flees along with my self-control. Some days, I can make it twelve hours, white knuckling it most of the day until I cave by night. Masturbation is not enough to quench my hunger.
I am defenseless when it comes to satisfying my needs. My friend says I have a sex addiction. Maybe he’s right. Hell, I am a fucking sex therapist. I know he is right. All the signs are there. I ignore them. All that matters at this moment is that the itch I need to scratch will soon go away, and I can continue on with the rest of my day as if meeting strange women for quickies at Broad Street Beans is normal.
Debating whether I should grab a latte and wait for the sexy-as-fuck woman I met this morning, I decide to sit by the front door instead. She’s late, and I’m horny, both of which are not a good combination. The longer I wait, the more I will succumb to my own desires.
Sex Therapy Page 2