The Girl He Loves

by Carmen, Roya

  When I finally spotted the tiny scroll at the bottom of the drawer, I was ecstatic. I was giddy as I carefully unfolded it.

  Look in the box on top of the dresser. xo

  I reached for the box; a large beautiful carved design, a gift from Brian’s godmother. As soon as I flipped the lid open, my breath hitched. There was a pretty Russian stacking doll inside.

  Brian shot me a sweet smile.

  I was smiling as I twisted open all the dolls until the smallest one revealed exactly what I expected — a pretty silver ring with a small diamond. It was absolutely beautiful… perfect.

  Brian got down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Mischa.”

  For the longest time, I was completely speechless, almost brought to tears.

  Finally, I came to my senses and fell to my knees too. “Yes!”

  He scooped me up in his arms and held me tightly, as if he never wanted to let me go.

  When we finally reluctantly tore apart, he took my hand and carefully slid the ring on my finger. “It’s always been you, Mischa.”

  Those were the words he said to me when he slipped the diamond on my finger. He smiled at me and committed to spending the rest of his life with me and only me. And all the while, another woman was holding his child in her arms.

  Part IV

  Temptation

  32

  Tonight, the girls and I are doing something a little different — movie night. Tonight’s selection: Sex and the City. We all loved the show and have all seen the movie before, but it’s the kind of flick you can watch many times. It’s exactly what I need to get my mind off things — a little frivolity.

  Abigail came up with the idea of putting on our best heels and drinking Cosmos in honor of Carrie Bradshaw and her cohorts. We always talk about which one we’re most like. I’m definitely like Miranda. Gretchen is so Charlotte. Abigail and Claudia are both Carries. None of us are quite like the sex-crazed Samantha.

  Renee would fit right in on the set of Sex and the City. She’s so glamorous and stylish, and her long legs would look fabulous in all those designer heels. She’s the kind of woman who could pull off all those outlandish styles Carrie wears.

  Claudia pops some popcorn in the microwave while Abigail takes care of the Cosmos. Gretchen and I are busy arranging a tray of treats into the shape of a heart; bite-sized chocolate bars, gummy bears and Mentos candies.

  When we’re done, Abigail hands us Cosmos. I take a sip and stare down at my shoes. I’ve chosen my favorite pair; red Stuart Weitzman peep toe platforms, sexy but very comfortable. Gretchen is wearing adorable retro-inspired grey silk pumps. Abigail is wearing lovely plum Nine West colored pointy pumps with a criss-cross strap, and Claudia is in classic black stilettos.

  I can’t stop thinking about Joel and Renee. Has she kept this secret from him all these years, like Brian has? I itch to tell him, but it’s really not my place. I could never do this to him. Just look at me — I’m a complete disaster. I was faring so much better when I was blissfully clueless. And could it possibly affect his relationship with Ava? I could never do that to them.

  Claudia is hogging the bowl of popcorn and Gretchen is stuffing her face with candy. We’re all transfixed by the images on the screen; Carrie is trying on the most beautiful wedding gowns we’ve ever seen.

  “I just love the Vera Wang,” Gretchen says.

  “Too much,” Claudia chimes in. “I prefer the Christian Lacroix.”

  “My favorite is the Oscar de la Renta,” Abigail says. “Not too crazy about the Vivienne Westwood. The boobs are too pointy.”

  Laughs all around. I feign a chuckle, attempting to revel in the moment, but all I can do is think about Joel. I steal the bowl of popcorn from Claudia. “I kind of like the Vera Wang too,” I chime in, putting my two cents in.

  He doesn’t need to know, I tell myself. He doesn’t deserve the heartbreak. He’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. I honestly don’t know what he sees in Renee — she’s not good enough for him.

  Why am I kidding myself? Of course I know what he sees in her. She’s stunning, larger than life, full of energy and confidence. When she walks into a room, heads turn. Who wouldn’t want to stand next to that? And I bet she’s a firecracker in bed.

  I smile at the sight of Samantha laying naked on a dining table, her body covered in sushi.

  Claudia laughs. “She’s so hilarious.”

  Yes, the crazy things Samantha does for sex. I bet Renee is wild in bed too. What kind of games does she play with Joel? I bet she’s into the whole role play and handcuffs too. I wonder if he’s dominant in bed — he doesn’t seem the type. I shake my head. Why am I thinking about them again?

  I hate it. I have no free will when it comes to the thoughts whirling around in my head. That’s the case for most people, but it’s a lot worse for sufferers of OCD. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, and remember Dr. Russell’s words. Relabel. Reattribute. Refocus and Revalue.

  “This scene breaks my heart,” Gretchen says, full of emotion. It breaks mine too.

  “I knew you would do this. I knew it,” Carrie screams at Big, throwing her bouquet of flowers at his head. “I am humiliated.”

  The expression on Charlotte’s face kills me; when she holds her friend in her arms, and screams “No” at Big, a warning not to come closer. Carrie’s heart is shattered, but thankfully she has her friends. A lot of people might say this movie is just about sex, but it’s really a film about friendship.

  My gaze darts across the room as I study my wonderful friends. Why am I obsessing about almost-strangers, when I have these amazing girls around me?

  I grab a small pack of M&Ms and tell myself to stop being such an idiot. I focus on the TV, laugh at the on-screen shenanigans, and finally enjoy the movie and the wonderful ending.

  When I leave Abigail’s, my belly is full of popcorn, candy and alcohol. I feel a little woozy and thoughts of Big and Carrie and those lovely silky blue Manolo Blahnik pumps fill my mind.

  I’m blissful when I finally crawl into bed, next to my warm husband.

  * * *

  It’s Monday afternoon and I’m in the middle of folding frozen blueberries into my muffin mix. The boys love blueberry muffins and I try to make them at least once a month. I’ve been the perfect wife and mother these past few days. I’ve been acting very sane, minding my own business. Laundry, cooking, baking, work… that’s what I’ve decided to focus on. No more obsessing over Joel, Renee and Ava.

  When my phone rings, I’m annoyed. I hate being interrupted when I’m smack in the middle of something. I huff as I drop the bowl on the counter and reach for my phone. I’m surprised when I see Joel’s name and face — I’ve taken the liberty of adding his photo to my contact info, a pic I stole from his Facebook profile.

  “Hello,” I say casually, as if I don’t know it’s him, as if I couldn’t care less.

  “Hey, Mischa… it’s Joel.”

  I know.

  “Hi, Joel,” I say cheerfully. “What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you, Mischa.” He doesn’t quite sound like himself. “Can we meet?”

  “Sure,” I say, eager to know what’s bothering him. “Our usual place?”

  “Actually, I’m at the salon,” he tells me.

  “Oh… aren’t you closed on Mondays?” I ask, confused.

  “Yes, we are… I’m just cleaning up,” he explains. “You think you could come by? I’d love to talk.”

  Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.

  “Uh… sure.” It means that I’ll have to abandon my blueberry muffins and take the bus, but curiosity is always a great motivator.

  “Great,” he says. “When will I see you?”

  “In an hour?”

  “Great.”

  Did I need to wear heels and that pretty blue flower dress, the one that brings out the color of my eyes? No, I did not. As I stare out the bus window, I wonder why I did. I suppose I still want him to think I’m pretty, even if
I have no intention of ever taking our friendship beyond what it is. I suppose I want to feel desirable, a perfectly normal emotion and completely expected behavior for a woman my age.

  When I finally get off the bus following what seems like an eternal ride, I have a bounce in my step as I head toward Joel’s salon.

  When I swing the door open, the familiar clang of the doorbell assaults my sensitive ears, I see him sweeping the back of the room. He looks up and smiles. He’s long and lean, dressed in all black. He’s beautiful and mysterious, and it is indeed a mystery… the reason he’s called me here today.

  There’s soft music playing on the radio, and the space is dark and moody. A lone light shines above and illuminates him. He stows his broom away, closes the distance between us, and takes me in his arms. He holds me tightly and I melt into him. He smells so good, like expensive salon products. I wonder if he can feel my heart beating frantically.

  He finally releases me. “So glad you’re here, Mischa. You look amazing.”

  I blush a little. “Thank you.”

  “My life is such a disaster,” he tells me, right off the bat. I love how open he is. He lets me read him like no one ever has before. He’s so full of emotions, and he wears them on his sleeve.

  Of course I have no clue how to respond. Tell me more…

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asks. “I have Perrier, coffee, tea… juice.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  He tilts his head toward the lovely purple velvet loveseat sofa in the corner. I follow suit when he takes a seat. It’s so luxurious and soft, and I let myself sink into it without a care in the world. Joel is right next to me, leaning back. His eyes are closed and I wonder what’s on his mind. Is he thinking about Ava? About Renee? About me?

  I watch him for the longest time, wondering what it would be like to be with him. What would it be like to be with another man? I’ve only been with Brian.

  When his eyes pop open, I jerk my gaze away and pretend to study the rows of hair products up on the shelves.

  “Renee knows about you,” he says. “She’s livid.”

  “Oh…” I say, at a loss for words. “Really?”

  “I’m not sure how she knows about us,” he says. “I’ve only mentioned you in passing… the very nice woman I met at yoga.”

  “Did you tell her how we go out for smoothies after class?”

  He smiles. “Yep… she didn’t seem to have an issue with it at first.”

  “Did you tell her how we went shopping?” I ask, curious.

  “No… I didn’t mention that. I don’t know why,” he says. “But I did mention tons of other stuff about you. How you have two boys and your husband is a musician turned teacher and all that stuff. I don’t think I ever mentioned your name.”

  “I see.” I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where we’re going with this.

  “She lost it when I told her how you pointed out Ava’s cuts. She was furious.”

  I wince a little. Of course she was. A stranger noticed her daughter’s cry for help when she didn’t. She’s not exactly winning any Mother of the Year awards. She probably hates me.

  “‘Mischa Lombardi… I know her,’ she said. ‘What the fuck is going on with you two?’”

  “Damn.”

  He turns to me and studies me for a long beat. “I didn’t know you knew my wife, Mischa. How do you two know each other?” Curiosity, confusion, wariness… it’s all there in his eyes. He doesn’t trust me anymore.

  I don’t know what to say. I can’t exactly tell him the truth without completely ruining his life. “I’ve been at her store,” I say nonchalantly. “Great place.”

  He raises a brow, not completely convinced.

  “So… how is Ava doing?” I ask, swiftly changing the subject.

  He blows out a long breath. “We’ve gotten her some help,” he tells me. “She’s seeing a therapist, a nice lady. And we’ve started her on a low dose of anti-depressant. She’s not too keen on taking drugs though.”

  “Drugs can be a godsend,” I chime in. I don’t elaborate. I don’t tell him that I’d be an even bigger psycho if it weren’t for prescription drugs.

  “That’s what people keep saying,” he tells me. “I just love her so much, Mischa. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. I just want her to be happy. I can’t believe she’s been in so much pain, enough pain to hurt herself.”

  “The pain feels good,” I say. “I know it’s crazy. I used to cut too when I was young,” I confess. This is something I don’t ever tell anyone. Even Brian doesn’t know — it was before I met him.

  Joel turns to me, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Mischa.”

  “It’s often just a phase,” I reassure him. “She has the support of her family… she’ll pull through. I know I sure did.” For me it wasn’t because of my family, it was because of Brian.

  He shakes his head. “Therapy has been going okay… but there’s something about her,” he says. “Something she’s not telling us.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Just a feeling,” he says. “I can’t explain it. Lately, she’s been very distant… with both of us. She’s angry at Renee, and me… she can’t look at me.”

  I mull over his words. Could Ava possibly know?

  “Tell me about her,” I urge. “Tell me about the day she was born.”

  “Well, let’s just say my parents were shocked,” he tells me. “I was only sixteen and I’d knocked up a girl. We’d just told everyone about our relationship and everyone was surprised about that already. You can’t even imagine how crazy the gossip got when the news about the baby broke out.”

  “I’m sure it was insane.”

  “Well, the thing was… Renee’s family is loaded. Her father’s a developer… that’s how our parents knew each other. My dad worked for him from the beginning, helped him build his business. When you have that much money, anything’s possible. Renee and I were able to keep going to school, while we hired a nanny to take care of Ava.”

  My eyes grow wide. “Really?”

  “Yep,” he says. “Renee has never had a very active role in child rearing. We’ve always had nannies, wonderful women who gave our kids everything they’ve ever wanted. And I always tried to make as much time for them as I could. Nannies can be great, but a kid needs a parent in their lives too, preferably both of them.”

  “I completely agree,” I pipe in, captivated.

  “We lived in the guest house at her parents’ for years. Meals at the main house, cooked by the lovely Estella, Renee’s parents’ personal cook and maid.”

  “Looks like you married well,” I tease.

  A hint of a smile traces his lips. “Well, that wasn’t the intention. I was in love.”

  “Yes… I know… I just meant…”

  “Despite the fact that I was only sixteen, and all my friends pitied me, I was secretly happy. I couldn’t wait to see this little person that Renee and I had made. I was shocked when she came out with a full head of dark hair.” He laughs. “But Renee’s dad has dark hair… I guess that’s where she gets it.”

  My heart dives into my stomach. He doesn’t have a clue. He thinks Ava is his.

  “She was the light of my life from the start. Renee didn’t bond much with her, but I sure did. We went on strolls to the park. I braided her hair and watched silly kid shows with her. I’d take her to the aquarium because she was fascinated with fish. When she turned three, she became obsessed with her play kitchen. We’d play restaurant. I was always the customer, and I loved to eat. Waffles and peas, eggs, fries and chocolate cake.” He smiles. “I had very strange tastes.”

  This is so heartbreaking, I can barely hold in my tears. I’m welling up, and I turn my gaze from his. I stare at the shampoo bottles again to distract myself.

  “Anyway… that was years ago,” he says, nostalgic. “Now we barely speak and she can’t even look at me.”

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” I say. “Trevor has been a little distant too lately. Always playing video games.” I know it’s not the same thing, but it’s all I can find to say. I’m certainly not going to tell him the truth.

  “And I think Renee hates me these days,” he says. “I’ve loved her all my life, and all she does is push me away.”

  His words take me off guard.

  “You’ve been at her store, right?” he asks.

  I nod, itching to know where he’s going with this.

  “You ever seen that slick silver fox?” he asks. “The guy I told you about… Grant?”

  I nod, a little too enthusiastically. “Yep.”

  “She’s fucking him.”

  I stop breathing for a second. He knows. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Does he not care?

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure,” he tells me. “About ninety-five. The way they are together…”

  “Well, they work together every day. Of course they would be close.” Even as I utter the words, I know I’m full of shit. But what else am I going to say? Your wife is a fucking trollop and you should run away as fast as you can.

  “No, they’re fucking.”

  I’m so confused. I have so many questions. “How long have you known? Do you not care?”

  “I care. I care about her too much to let this come between us. It’s one guy, and he’s about sixty. Renee has always had daddy issues… she’s messed up.”

  “I see…” I say calmly, sounding like a useless therapist.

  “What can I say… I love her. She’s the mother of my children. She’s all I’ve ever known.”

  I know.

  33

  When he turns to me, his soft brown eyes are so dark, I get lost in them for a second.