by Amanda Aksel
I moved toward her. “I know what you mean.” Our reflections side by side in the sleek, black-framed wall mirror, my thoughts flashed back to when we were eight, the beginning of our awkward phase right before hitting puberty. We were so young then and Rachel was just a baby. Looking at Holly was the same as when we were kids, even though we’re much older and less awkward.
“Do you remember when Rachel said her first word?” I asked Holly.
Her face lit up. “Yeah, we were looking at my mom’s baby magazines when Rachel came over and pointed at the baby.”
“Then she said, ‘baby’ and you nodded and said, ‘yeah baby.’”
Holly smiled with a slight laugh. “It took us a minute to realize she said her first word.”
I put my arm around her. “I guess the baby’s all grown up.”
“Ugh, you sound like a bunch of old sentimental grandmas.” Telly grimaced. “Can we not talk about Rachel as a baby? She’s a grown woman and tonight she’s a Sin City bachelorette. I don’t want images of her innocence when a hot male stripper grinds on her later.”
“You ordered a stripper?” Holly sounded appalled to say the least.
Telly shook her head innocently and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“We gotta go, guys.” I ushered the girls to the door, while Holly ranted about why strippers are disgusting. After passing the casino downstairs, we made it inside the Tabu Lounge. We were led to a special bachelorette booth adorned with a confetti of martini glasses.
Rachel raised her glass, compelling our attention. “I want to say something,” she began. “I want to thank you all for coming all the way here to celebrate my last days as a single girl. It means the world to me.” Two of the twenty-somethings ahhed. “There are no other six ladies I would rather be with. I love you guys!” We raised our glasses and leaned in for a toast.
Telly wrapped her hands around her martini glass, clutching it like a warm cup of coffee, and bouncing in her seat with a grin. “Okay, who’s my crush for the night?” Her eyes wandered around the lounge, scoping out the men like a lioness on the hunt. I’d seen it many times before. She stopped, grinned, and sure enough stunned her first prey. He made his way over to us, which always made me uncomfortable because I knew what would come next. He was attractive, built like a football player. Eligible looking enough except his hair was spiked with a tad too much gel.
“Hey,” too-much-hair-gel-guy said to Telly, ignoring the rest of us.
“Hi,” she said.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Telly curled her lip. “I already have a drink.” He raised his eyebrows in a sigh, almost admitting defeat, but tried again.
“You wanna dance?”
“I don’t know.” Telly paused and ran her eyes down his body. “Can you dance?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Telly raised an eyebrow. She walked toward the dance floor, hips moving to the beat with each step. He, of course, followed eagerly.
It wasn’t long before the seven of us were throwing back cocktails and shakin’ it on the dance floor. Denise created a list of dares for Rachel, like rub a bald guy’s head and ask random guys to take off their shirts for pictures. Rachel exhibited her low tolerance for alcohol as she crossed through each fulfilled dare on the list.
At one point she looked over at me. “You’re next.” She was right. My wedding was only four months away, and it wouldn’t be long before I was rubbing bald heads and asking for men’s shirts. She was the first of all the girls there to get married and, having known her since her diaper days, I was incredibly happy for her. We were both so lucky to have found great guys who wanted to spend their lives with us as much as we wanted to spend our lives with them.
The girls spread throughout the lounge, Holly was chatting with the bartender, Telly had moved on to bleached-blonde-surfer-guy, and Rachel was enjoying herself in the crowd on the dance floor. I made my way over. When I reached her, she stumbled and bumped into a dancing couple. I grabbed her to keep her upright.
“Are you okay?” I shouted over the booming music.
“Yeah, I think I need some air.” She looked like she was going to be sick. I led her into the hotel corridor.
“Do you need to go to the ladies room?” I brushed her hair away from her eyes.
“No, just air.”
I nodded.
We walked through the casino and outside to a nearby bench under the walkway escalator. Rachel took deep breaths as I lightly rubbed her back.
“You okay?” I asked again.
“I think so. I feel panicky all of the sudden.” She put her hand on her chest, her breathing became shallow.
I kneeled in front of her and looked onto her face. “Rachel, what’s going on?”
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Getting married. It’s such a huge thing, you know. It’s like . . . forever.”
“That’s the thing about marriage, honey,” I said with a smile.
“And I love David, I do. He’s great, but he has a past. And what if he hasn’t grown—”
“Rachel, listen.”
She held her breath.
“The past is the past. David’s a great guy, and he would not have asked you to marry him if he wasn’t ready to make that commitment, okay?”
“You’re right.” She nodded.
“It’s normal to get cold feet, and if you’re not ready, then it’s okay. You can postpone the wed—”
“No!” She jumped to her feet with conviction. “I’m marrying David.”
“Good,” I said and brushed her cheek. I stood up ready to head back inside when she grabbed my arm. Her concerned expression returned.
“I have to tell you something.” My heart jumped at the severity of her tone. Maybe she was pregnant.
“Okay.”
“This might sound crazy, but a month after we got engaged . . . ”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath.
“I lost my engagement ring in a parking lot.” I studied her left hand, which glistened with two carats worth of shiny diamonds. I held it up.
“I don’t follow,” I said.
“I got the ring back, thank God, but I didn’t tell anyone because of the superstition, you know?”
I shrugged. The only ring superstition I knew about involved wearing a used ring from a broken engagement.
“Lose your ring, lose your spouse,” she said as if it was as common as step on a crack and break your mother’s back. “That’s crazy, right?” She bit her lip. It did sound crazy, but as a therapist I did not encourage such terms.
“Of course not, but your ring isn’t lost. You got it back. I would call it no harm, no foul.”
“You’re right. I’m getting married, and it’s going to be great.”
“It’s going to be great.” I nodded and smiled. “Let’s go back inside.”
The next day at the casino we handed chips to the black jack dealers and spent the evening mesmerized by the latest performance of Cirque du Soleil. By Sunday morning we were in need of some R&R. Telly, Holly, and I spent our time at the pool, soaking in the sun and cooling off in the water. Rachel and her friends opted for massages and facials at the spa.
After an hour of sunning and reading a few articles in Psychology Today, I put my head back and closed my eyes. The sun felt good on my face, and I thought about all the fun I had the past couple of days. Then, I thought about Chad and how much fun I would’ve had if I’d been home helping him move into my apartment, our apartment. I missed him.
“Hey, guys?” I said turning to the girls who were resting on their lounge chairs next to mine. Their heads turned in unison. “I think I’m gonna fly home tonight and surprise Chad.”
“You’re leaving?” Telly asked.
“Yeah, I really miss him. He’s been working a lot, and I haven’t seen him much lately. Do you think Rachel will be upset?”
“No,” Holly said. “She’ll understand. I
’m sure she’s itching to get back to David too.”
Before leaving for the airport, I found Rachel at the salon and said good-bye. She thanked me for coming and for our little pep talk the first night.
The flight was as quick as the one before, but it felt longer still. I was antsy to surprise Chad and finish what we started a few days ago. By the time I got to our apartment, I was almost giddy at the idea of surprising him. The doorknob turned easily as I carefully opened the door and dragged my suitcase behind me. The space was dark except for a hint of light spilling out from the bedroom.
CHAPTER TWO
The Catch
I shut the door without a sound and tiptoed through the living room and down the hall. I stopped short of the bedroom and just stood in the doorway.
A naked woman wrapped up in my once pristine white Egyptian cotton sheets laid alone in my bed. My mind didn’t register anything about her other than that she had no business being there.
“Who the hell are you?” I yelled. Before she could answer, Chad came out of the hall bathroom wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.
Heart pounding, hands shaking, a stabbing pain of betrayal warmed my face. How could this be? My perfect fiancé was having an affair, in our apartment, in our bed. I fought to hold back the tears.
“Marin.” He started as if to explain.
I held up my hand. It was my turn to speak, though I didn’t know where to start. He was having an affair. How could he do this to me? We’re getting married. What a lying, cheating, son-of-a-bitch.
There were no words. I heaved and covered my mouth. “I’m going to be sick,” I said, heaving again. I pushed Chad out of the way and locked myself in the bathroom. My complimentary Southwest cocktails spewed out of me as I hovered over the toilet and my tears spilled out like an opened floodgate.
Chad banged against the door. “Marin, let me in!”
“Go away!” I shouted.
“Let me explain,” he said, still banging against the door.
“I don’t want to talk to you. Just go! Take that whore with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you open this door and let me talk to you.” I broke from my tears long enough to tell him I would call the cops if he didn’t leave.
“They won’t do anything, Marin. I live here, remember?”
“Not anymore. Now get the hell out.” I sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a lower, defeated tone. I remained silent, sitting on the floor with my head against the wall. Waiting. A minute later, the front door closed and he was gone. The sorrow was so overwhelming that I breathed in and tried to cry out, but the cry stuck in my throat until it released a second later. Hours later and still lying on my bathroom rug surrounded by balled up tissues, my eyes were parched. I felt numb, thoughtless, speechless, and even breathless. At some point during my dismal daze, I fell asleep.
I was disoriented the next morning until the base of my toilet came into view. The whole thing came back to me like a bad dream. Except it wasn’t a dream. Chad, my fiancé, was having an affair. The man I had spent two years with had betrayed me in the worst way.
I splashed cold water on my face, then left my grief chamber to investigate the empty apartment. There was nothing but silence. My memory flashed back as I entered my bedroom and stared at my bed. An unsettling urge to scratch my skin off came over me as my new reality crawled under it. I shifted that urge to the bed, clawing the white sheets soiled by infidelity. Minutes later they tumbled down the garbage shoot. When I returned to the room, my running shoes appeared in my peripheral vision. I knew exactly what was needed: a good run.
There was something peaceful about the sound of my feet against the pavement and the steadiness of my breath. Running allowed me to clear my head, gain perspective. It was my version of therapy, helping me through grad school, tension with my family, and the pressure of being single in my late twenties. I hoped it would get me through the trauma with Chad.
One question hounded me. What should I do now? In my professional experience, many couples combat infidelity with success. I always encouraged people to work it out if they could. Now that it had happened to me, I didn’t feel so willing. For starters, Chad and I were not married, and in that moment I was thankful for that. If I wanted to get out of my relationship, I could easily do so. The truth remained that I loved him, but was love enough? I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him in the first place if I hadn’t thought we could face the hard stuff. My rose colored view of love never imagined infidelity plaguing our relationship.
How could I ever trust him again? Cheating can make people crazy with jealousy and suspicion, and I didn’t want to be the kind of person who second-guessed him all the time. Plus, I didn’t know the nature of his affair. Was it a one-time thing or a long-standing relationship? Would it matter either way? The whole thing made me sick.
Chad was waiting for me in the living room when I got back. He jumped to his feet at my entrance.
“What are you doing here?” I asked sternly, crossing my arms and trying not to cry.
“I came to see you.” He walked toward me, and I stepped back.
“I told you I don’t want see you.”
“I know you’re mad.”
“Mad? You think I’m mad? You cheated on me. You lied to me. You betrayed me. I’m not mad. I’m furious, and hurt, and confused. And more than any of that I feel like a fool that I believed you loved me.”
“I do love you.” He sounded earnest.
“You don’t do this to someone you love.”
“It’s not that simple, you should know that.”
“What I know is we’re supposed to be getting married. You asked me to be your wife. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“I know. I messed up,” he said, head down.
“Yeah, you did.”
“Once I moved in I realized what a big commitment I was making. I realized I would never be single again, and I thought I could have one last hurrah before I said forever. I didn’t want to go into this thinking, what if?”
He may have intended to sound sincere, but all I could hear were lies. “That doesn’t justify what you did.”
“I know, but it’s the truth.”
I shook my head. Now he wanted to tell the truth?
“Why didn’t you talk to me? We talk about everything. We could have found another way.” I wanted to understand how he could have been so deceitful. How I could have been so blind.
“I didn’t think there was another way.”
And there it was. The man I had given my heart to didn’t think there was another way to go into a marriage with me other than to do something that would break my heart. If I hadn’t come home early, then we would have gotten married, and I would have been none the wiser. But he was caught red-handed, and that situation gave me a choice. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was for the best.
“I don’t think there’s another way either. I can’t do this.” With that affirmation, I slipped the round, one-carat diamond, Tiffany style engagement ring off of my finger and placed it in his hand.
“Please, don’t end it like this, Marin.”
“I didn’t, you did.”
I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Chad called.
I looked back at him, hoping it was the last time I would ever see him. “I’m leaving. I can’t stand to look at you. Get your stuff out before I come back.” And before he had the chance to say anything, I slammed the door.
I spent the rest of the day walking around the city, visiting the park, the coffee house, the deli for lunch, and a few shops. Considering everything, I felt okay, but I knew enough to realize that it was the calm before the storm. In an effort to stay out as long as possible, I paid my office an unexpected visit.
“Oooh, Marin, you’re back early,” Diana said, greeting me warmly.
“I’m not staying. I just need to see Katie. Is she free?” I leaned on her cou
nter while Diana checked the calendar. After almost a minute of her repeating, “well, um,” she finally said, “Yes . . . she’s available.”
“Thanks.” I headed toward Katie’s office.
“Come in,” Katie called after I knocked on her door. Slowly, I made my way inside before shutting the door.
“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”
“I had a change of plans.”
She frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“No. I need to take some time off. It’s sort of a family emergency,” and by emergency I meant my wedding was off.
“What happened?” She walked over to me. As a possible patient going through a personal crisis I wanted to open up to her, but as a partner in the practice with an excellent handle on my patients’ relationships, I couldn’t admit that I had suffered a major failure. I glanced briefly into her eyes.
“I don’t really want to talk about it yet.”
“Of course,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”
“I know. Thank you.” I conjured a little smile.
“Take as long as you need. Don’t worry about your appointments, we’ll take care of everything.”
“Thanks, Katie. I really appreciate it.”
Smiling, she wrapped her arms around me. It was hard not to break down crying when she showed me affection. A small tear escaped, but I smiled through it.
I headed to my office for some quiet alone time. Before I made it, Andy, the not so supportive partner, caught me.
“You all right? You look like shit.” Andy chomped his gum and stared at me with obvious disdain.
“Nice, Andy. I’m fine.”
“If you say so. I can’t chat, I have another nut case to see now.” He turned toward his office.
Charming as usual. Thank God he was gone. I increased my pace down the hall avoiding every other possible run-in. I shut the door and leaned against it, then flipped the lock. So much for feeling okay. I hadn’t let myself cry the whole day, but I couldn’t stop it any longer. The love seat and box of tissues were all the provisions I needed for a good cry. I let it all out. Tear after tear, tissue after tissue, until I had all the symptoms of a cold—feverish skin, stuffy nose, aches and pains. Only it wasn’t a cold I was suffering, but a broken heart.