by R. S. Medina
"Of course," I say, "you can never break a pinky promise..."
"I know," she nods solemnly. "Pinky promises are serious shit. So... how about you? How would you do it?" she asks, continuing the conversation. I wish she would just drop it. I don't like thinking about her like that.
"A gun. I'd fuck anything else up, I'm sure. And it's quick."
Blair nods like she guessed that would be my answer. "Men usually turn to guns," she says. "This is depressing. I'm changing the subject," she says.
It's quiet for a moment, and I guess she can't think of anything to say. She turns the radio back up and smiles, singing along with a song on the radio. I hate this song, but it doesn't suck so badly with her singing along to it next to me. I smile a little bit. When the song ends, she turns to me.
"Is it sad that you're seriously the best part of my day today," she asks. It catches me a little bit off guard. I smile.
"No," I answer honestly. "You've been the best part of mine. I enjoy talking to you," I admit. I feel so stupid admitting it out loud, but the smile that crosses Blair's face is worth it. I wonder if she knows what her smile does to me. It's total bullshit that she can have this effect on me.
"Me too," she whispers. I want to reach out and take her hand so badly, but I can't. She's married, and that huge wedding ring of hers is glaring at me like it knows that I'm having these thoughts and feelings for her. I feel guilty, but just knowing I'm the best part of her day makes me feel special.
Present
Every time I see Blair's name and her cute little contact picture pops up on my phone, I smile. I can't help it. I feel fucking ridiculous, but she just does that to me. It's the first time in a long time that I've felt good about something. Blair makes me feel like someone cares, and that's a feeling that has been all too absent in my life lately.
Yes, I know that Billy cares and has been like a brother to me. He stepped up when I went off the deep end after losing Stephanie and Sam. He's seen me at my absolute worst and kept me from going to prison for doing anything rash or stupid. He's a good guy, for as messy as he is. But you can't compare a best friend to your girl.
Billy is outside grilling with Dad, and I'm supposed to be pulling a round of beers out of the fridge for everyone. I'm three or four ahead of everyone else already. I started early.
We've been grilling out a lot lately. Billy has been enjoying the summer nights and enjoys making anything on the grill, and I'm not complaining.
I'm about to pop the top off another beer when my phone rings. I start smiling, automatically assuming it's Blair.
But it's Stephanie's picture that pops up on the screen.
Fuck. My stomach sinks and my heart hurts. Life is bearable when she's out of sight, out of mind, but she won't let that happen for long. But lately, Blair has been helping with that. She's like a Band-Aid or a shot of whiskey. She helps keep the pain away. She helps me feel warm and relaxed.
"What do you want, Stephanie?" I ask, answering the phone. I take a swig of beer.
"Is that any way to answer the phone when your possible baby momma is calling?" Stephanie complains, and I roll my eyes.
"Did you get the results of the paternity test yet?" I ask, wondering why she's calling.
"Well, no, I haven't had the time or money to get it done," she mumbles.
"Fuck, Stephanie. Just get it done already," I tell her, getting frustrated. She's been dragging this out for three months already, and holding paternity over my head. I'm just ready to get this invisible noose off my neck and be done with her. "Call me, when you get the results," I say, ready to hang up.
"Wait, I miss you." God, she sounds whiney.
"Go miss Sam," I say, slamming my beer onto the counter. Beer splashes over and onto the counter top. Great, I'm wasting it.
"Sam's not here..." she hints, and I raise my eyebrows.
"How is that my problem?" I ask, wondering where this is going.
"You could come over..." she invites.
"Why?" I ask again.
"Because I miss you," she reiterates.
Maybe it's the alcohol talking, or I might just be thinking with my dick, but I think a good hate fuck might be just what I need. It will help me get over Stephanie, back at Sam, and get a married woman out of my thoughts. A hate fuck might just do the trick. Plus, Stephanie and I used to have wild sex. I kind of miss it.
I grab my truck keys.
"I'll be there in twenty."
Present
Blair is in the shower, and Olivia is pissed that her mom is in there with the door closed. She's standing at the closed bathroom door, pounding on it with a tiny fist and tears streaming down her face like her mother has left her for good, rather than for ten minutes to take a shower. She's got a flair for the dramatic. I'm claiming she gets that from her mother.
People weren't kidding when they said that when you have a kid, privacy goes out the window. Poor Blair can't get a moment alone without Olivia when she's home. I thought girls were supposed to favor their dads, and boys favored their moms, but I guess Olivia is the exception to the rule. She definitely favors her mom – she's a momma's girl.
I walk to Olivia, and she takes one glance at me and dismisses me, continuing her mission of trying to get her mom to open the door.
"Come here, baby girl," I coo, holding my arms out to comfort her. Olivia crawls over to me, and lifts her chubby little arms up for me to pick her up. I lift her up and go to her bedroom to retrieve her favorite pink princess blanket. She smiles when she sees it, and buries her face in its softness when I hand it to her.
It wasn't too hard to distract her from her mom's obviously traitorous showering needs. How dare she shower without Olivia.
I go back into the living room, and plop her down on the couch and Olivia giggles. She likes when I throw her on the couch. I love hearing her little giggles, so I pick her up and toss her back down on the couch. She bounces and giggles and raises her arms for me to do it again, so I oblige one last time.
It's getting close to Olivia's bed time, and I can tell she's feeling it. She's rubbing her eyes, defiantly trying to stay awake. I sit down on the couch next to her, and she crawls into my lap, dragging her blanket behind her. I adjust her to get comfortable, and I pull the blanket around the both of us, snuggling in with her.
By the time I vaguely hear the shower shut off, I'm close to dozing off, following Olivia who has passed out and is slightly snoring. I hear the shower door open, and I open one eye, seeing steam pour out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Blair comes out, toweling her hair and when she spots me and Olivia curled up in a pink princess blanket, she suppresses a grin.
"Want me to come get her and put her in her crib?" Blair whispers softly. Her eyes are soft with adoration for the tiny little girl in my arms.
I shake my head gently, scared to move too much and wake Olivia.
"No, I'll do it," I tell her. She nods and goes to throw on some clothes and comb out her hair, and I try to gently adjust Olivia without jostling her too much. She stirs a little bit when I walk to her crib, but I manage to successfully put her down without too much trouble.
I really love being her dad. I struggle with it on a daily basis, but I love her so much. I love her so much that I'll continue to fight and to struggle. For Olivia.
Present
Tristan: What are you doing, pretty girl?
Me: I'm curled up wearing my favorite socks, drinking hot tea, reading a book, and texting you. It's a perfect night. What about you?
I'm feeling pretty cute for once. Talking to Tristan does that to me. For once, I forget about the twenty extra pounds, or the fact that I'm just someone's mother now, and I feel like me. He makes me feel special.
Tristan: Oh, want me to text you later? I hate when someone is bugging me when I'm trying to read.
Me: No, I want to talk to you now. I can multitask. And honestly, I'd rather talk to you anyway.
Tristan: Wish I could
see that pretty face of yours...
I snap a quick picture of myself, sure to get the most flattering angle I can and send it on Snapchat to him. You can see my favorite Harry Potter knee high socks and my cute little booty shorts. The dark room makes my pale skin look a little less fluorescent, and I look kind of cute. It's all about the angles.
I'm sitting on the opposite end of the couch as Finn, my feet propped up on the coffee table. He's so busy with his video games and headset that he doesn't even notice I'm here, I'm sure. He hasn't spoken to me in over an hour.
Tristan: You really should stop being so pretty, but that's not what I meant. I wish I could see you.
I look up at the clock. It's just after eight, so it's not too late... I could get away with it if I wanted to. And I mean, I'm not doing anything else. Plus, Finn is playing Xbox, so it's not like he would miss me.
Me: Meet me at our spot in fifteen?
Tristan: Really? I'll be there.
Me: Really. I'm not getting dressed, though. I'm coming in pajamas. Don't judge.
I stand up and stretch, trying to figure out an excuse to leave. I grab for my car keys and wallet.
"Where are you going?" Finn asks, hearing my keys jingle.
"I'm craving something sweet," I tell him. "I was going to make a junk food run. Want anything?" I ask, hoping he won't notice my nervousness. My heart is pounding, and my palms are sweaty. I suck at this lying thing. But he doesn't even look up from his game.
"Yeah, that would be great. Grab me an energy drink, and some chips, please."
I nod. "Be back in a bit."
He doesn't even respond.
I drive to the park where Tristan and I always used to meet when we were in high school. I show up before Tristan, so I get out of the car and walk over to sit on the bench next to the fence that separates the park from a small stream. I love the trickling sound the water makes as it flows. The summer air feels sticky, and the cicadas are singing. The sun is starting to set, leaving beautiful shades of pink streaking the sky.
A few minutes later, I see a white truck pull up and park next to Big Blue. Tristan gets out, and my heart starts to pound. I start second guessing everything.
I shouldn't be here. What am I doing? I should be at home with my husband, not out whoring around. I need to get in my car, get the snacks, and go home. Fuck, should I walk and meet Tristan halfway, or should I wait here for him? What is less awkward?
I hate that I am so awkward. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be more confident? Why didn't I dress up more? I showed up in my fucking pajamas.
Tristan finally gets to our bench, and I stand up. He looks me up and down, and it gives me goose bumps. I'm second guessing wearing my shorts and Harry Potter socks. Tristan pulls me into a hug, and for a minute, I stop overthinking it. I wrap my arms around him, and I put my ear to his chest and listen to his heart pound away. He smells amazing.
"God," he smiles. "You are so cute." I roll my eyes.
"If you say so... I don't believe you," I admit.
He pulls me away from him and holds me at arm's length so he can look me in the eyes.
"Blair, you are drop dead gorgeous. You are way out of my league."
His words make my heart stop. An involuntary smile spreads across my face. I can't help it.
"First of all," I argue, "I have never seen myself as pretty," I admit. "And you are ridiculous. If I was out of your league, you and I never would have dated in high school. We are definitely in the same league," I say, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to make my point.
He pulls me with him to the bench, and we sit together, our bodies close. I feel a spark between us and wonder if it's only me. I try to move closer inconspicuously without being too obvious.
"Blair, you're the kind of girl that should know she's pretty. You're seriously one of the most beautiful girls I know. I don't know how you don't see it. You're crazy. And we so were not in the same league. You were the girl in high school I couldn't get over. Every time I saw you I got so nervous," he admits. I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile.
"That's adorable. You never seemed nervous. You were a little heathen and hung out with all your little bad ass friends. I would never have guessed you ever thought I was out of your league," I say, looking ahead at our cars parked next to each other, but trying to see his reaction out of the corner of my eye. He looks down at his hands.
"You made me so nervous that when I would see you, I would get butterflies so bad I couldn't function. God, you made me so nervous. I had to start holding my breath when I would see you and count to three," he says. He looks up at me under hooded eyes. I turn to look back at him.
"Ever since you, if I get nervous, that's how I calm myself down. I take a deep breath and hold it for three seconds," Tristan confesses.
It takes me a minute to respond. I stare into his beautiful brown eyes, and can't help but smile. I get the biggest, goofiest smile. I can't help it. I mean, come on, that was adorable. I reach out to grab his hand but then hesitate. He grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers.
"That is seriously the most amazing and sweet thing anyone has ever told me," I confess to him. He rubs a soothing circle into my hand with his thumb. I can't believe that him holding my hand feels this good.
"Don't get a big head about it," he says smiling, nudging me playfully with his elbow.
"Too late," I admit, barely above a whisper. I can't stop staring at Tristan's bedroom eyes. I never used to think brown eyes were beautiful until Tristan's, but they are so warm and deep. They are so expressive. Brown is definitely the most beautiful eye color.
I have to look away. If I keep staring, I'm scared I'll do something I will regret. I shouldn't be this attracted to him. I stand up and stretch and walk a few steps away from Tristan and then turn to look at him. I sit down in the grass facing him, my legs folded. He laughs.
"What in the world are you doing?"
"I needed some distance," I admit. He looks confused. I lay back in the grass, looking up at the stars so I don't have to look at him when I clarify. "You make me want to do things I shouldn't," I admit. I don't want to see his face when I tell him that. I'm too ashamed. But I think it needs to be said.
"Oh," he says simply.
"I'm a horrible person," I mumble, throwing my arm over my eyes to keep the tears that I want to shed from being seen. Even though I can't see him, I feel Tristan's presence when he comes near me. I peek to make sure I'm not crazy. He leans back next to me in the grass and reaches over to touch my face.
"You're not a horrible person," he says, searching my eyes when I move my arm. "You're a good person in a shitty situation," he says to calm me. "You're the sweetest, kindest, most loving person I know. You always have been, Blair." My heart melts, and I want so fucking badly to believe him. I don't say anything. I can't.
He lies back completely in the grass next to me, and we look up at the sky together. It's such a peaceful night.
"Want to know something fucked up?" he asks, changing the subject.
"Always."
"Stephanie called me tonight," he admits.
It is a tough subject to talk about, but we do. I hate that she hurt Tristan so bad. He didn't deserve that. I hate that I can't compete with someone he's in love with. I mean, it's not a competition. I'm married, and he's not talking about being with me, but I can't help but compare myself with her. And in my eyes, if Tristan and I were to ever be together, I will always have to deal with a shadow of her. She's stained him. I hate that even though it's been almost a year she still has power over him and he still thinks about it. She hurt him. Badly. And somehow, he still loves her. It's like a bad love story.
I don't know that kind of pain, but I imagine I would go crazy and kill someone if I was Tristan. Stephanie and Sam. I would never forgive them. But I can't blame him for not being completely over her.
We don't talk about her often or for long, but she always
finds a way to infiltrate our conversations. I'm not going to lie, I was curious. I looked her up. I'm a pro social media creeper. Like if the FBI ever needs a pro at finding shit out on social media, although I'm sure they have that covered, I'm their girl.
Tristan still has old pictures of them on all his social media profiles. I guess he isn't ready to delete them, and I don't say anything about them.
Stephanie is pretty. Like, drop dead gorgeous pretty. And her smile is friendly. In the pictures I found, you can tell she and Tristan love each other and are best friends. It's cute. And I find it a little weird, but I'm not even jealous. Should I be? I mean I'm not. And he's not mine, so I don't have any reason to be. I mean, at least I wouldn't fuck my ex's best friend.
But I think I might kind of like Tristan, again...
"Did you answer?" I ask him, reaching for his hand for moral support. I intertwine our fingers, and he gives my hand a little appreciative squeeze. That's not the question I want to ask, but I feel like it's not my place to ask what she wanted or what she said or where or why he saw her. That's what I definitely want to know. I'm nosy. I like drama, and I like to be in the know.
"Yes, because I'm stupid," he confesses.
"You're not stupid," I say, rubbing soothing circles on his hand with my thumb. "You just love her. Matters of the heart are never easy to deal with. We all do stupid things because of love. So what's the story? What happened between you two?"
Tristan inhales a deep breath and then sighs as he lets it out. This time, Tristan throws his arm over his eyes.
"We had been fighting a lot to begin with. I was drinking too much, and she didn't like it. She was insecure. She would accuse me of insane stuff like trying to flirt with her best friend and shit. She was wild. My older brother and I threw my parents an anniversary party last year, and Stephanie got overly drunk. Like white girl wasted. She then proceeded to pull me aside and yell at me for flirting with someone, I'm not even sure who. And when I argued, she slapped me. Right across the face—in front of everyone. My parents, my brother, our family and friends," Tristan explains.