by E. M. Abel
I closed my eyes as I pressed my cheek against Derek’s old leather jacket. The cold air whipping around did nothing to lessen the heat between us. That had always been our problem; our love burned too hot and died too slow.
It had been a week since that phone call, and I’d been numbing myself ever since, hoping it would all just go away. But it never did. Time slipped away instead. I knew I had to confront him.
Derek’s back muscles flexed as he took a turn toward the beach. I didn’t have to look to know where we were going. He knew I loved the ocean, and he was constantly using my love against me.
Steering his motorcycle into the empty parking lot, Derek stopped and put his feet down. I climbed off the back and unbuckled my helmet, taking it off while he cut the engine and put the kickstand down. He stood and swung his leg over the seat. I could remember a time when watching Derek on his bike had made my stomach flutter, a time when everything he did had been sexy and had drawn me in deeper. Now, the sight only brought a sour taste to my mouth.
Clenching my jaw, I looked down at my hands as they gripped my helmet tighter. Has she worn this? My thoughts began to feel distant as I let the effects of the drugs take over.
He wasn’t getting any more of me.
Derek’s open hand came into view, and I placed the helmet in his palm without looking at him. I wrapped my arms around myself as a gust of wind hit me. Lifting my head, I looked out at the ocean and fought to bury what little emotions I had left.
After hanging my helmet on his handlebar, Derek reached toward me again. “Come on.”
I finally met his gaze, refusing to show any weakness. His eyes were searching for it. My hands squeezed into tight fists while I moved past him and toward the beach. Derek sighed. That one breath, that single insignificant sound of annoyance, was enough to stop me in my tracks.
Spinning around, I glared up at him, my fingernails digging into my palms. “Why are we here, Derek?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“I know.”
His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “You know, what?”
I took a step closer to see the weight of my words as they sank in. “I know you’ve been fucking someone else.”
His jaw went slack, and his eyes searched mine. He was probably looking for a hint of uncertainty, but I had none.
Derek rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath before dropping them. His pathetically desperate eyes met mine, and he took a step closer. “I didn’t—”
“Why?” I shouted. My voice cracked, betraying me.
He didn’t deserve my tears.
“Why couldn’t you just leave me first? Why did you have to betray me? Betray us?”
“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but I didn’t do anything. I love you, Penny.”
I shook my head and laughed, not because it was funny. It wasn’t. I laughed because he was so full of shit, and I was beginning to think he believed his own lies. Turning back around, I began walking toward the beach again, the harsh wind drying my tears before they fell.
I could hear him catching up to me.
Why can’t he just leave me alone?
“Wait. Hey, wait up,” he said, his big hand wrapping around my elbow.
I jerked it from his grasp. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me, Derek.” With each step, I retreated further inside myself. When my boots reached the sand, I turned back to face him. “I know you’re lying! I fucking heard you talking to her!” I shouted.
Derek stared at me, and I watched him swallow his pride as his expression morphed from denial to guilt.
“It was a mistake, Penny. I never meant to…it didn’t mean anything. Fuck!” He rubbed his hand over his short hair.
Hearing him confirm what I’d already known was like a dagger piercing my dying heart. It hurt a lot more than I’d ever expected. I guessed a part of me had still been hoping I was wrong.
“It meant everything, Derek,” I spit. “You’ve taken what little self-respect I had left, and I hate you for it.”
His eyebrows furrowed when he heard me use the word hate, and I felt a twinge of satisfaction at the sight.
“Baby, don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
“Stop telling me what I mean! Stop telling me what to fucking do! I’m not yours anymore. I’m not the same person. Don’t you get it? You killed me! The Penelope you used to know, she’s gone, and she’s never coming back!”
I watched intently as Derek broke his gaze from mine and looked out into the ocean. His chin quivered, and his eyes glossed over with tears.
Good. Cry, motherfucker. I hope your heart breaks, too.
A lonely tear slipped out of his eye and fell down his cheek. He stepped toward me, but this time, I didn’t move. I stood my ground.
“I know I fucked up. I’ll regret it every day for the rest of my life. Just don’t give up on us.”
I stared into his hazel eyes, searching for the truth. I wasn’t sure if they had ever held any.
“Why?” The word slipped from my lips before I could stop it. “Why did you do it?”
Derek’s head dropped, and he stared at the sand beneath us. I looked at his short hair, remembering how soft it had once felt under my fingers.
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit, Derek. Tell me the truth. No more fucking lies.”
Peering up at me, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving. His eyes studied mine. He was probably wondering how much he should say.
“If you lie to me, I swear to God—”
Derek surprised me when he turned and took a few steps toward the water. Rubbing his hands over his face, he huffed out a breath. “What do you want me to say? It was a mistake.”
“I want to know why you did it,” I muttered, fighting the urge to drop to my knees.
“I was drunk.”
I sighed as tears escaped my eyes, and I started walking back to the parking lot. If he wasn’t going to be honest, there was no use in talking.
Derek’s hand wrapped around my bicep, and he spun me around. His jaw was tight, and his nostrils flared as his breath came out faster.
There he is. There’s the asshole he’s been trying so hard to hide.
“You blame me for everything,” he sneered, his angry eyes boring into mine. “You want to know why I did it, Penelope? Because I’ve never been able to make up for all the things you lost when you decided to marry me. I liked the attention I got from her. I got off on the thrill.”
I tried pulling my arm from his grasp as his words cut into my skin, but he gripped me tighter.
“What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted? The truth? The truth is, you’ve been gone for a while, Penny. I don’t know what happened, but you stopped caring. You changed. Not me.”
I gritted my teeth as liquid blurred my vision, turning my life into a diluted version of what it had once been. My heart was pounding inside my chest. It still had some fight left.
“Let me go.”
“That’s the problem. I can’t,” Derek growled before he released my arm and walked away.
I sat at our dining room table, rolling a joint with what was left of my stash, as Derek took a shower. I hadn’t spoken to him since our trip to the beach, and I didn’t intend to. He might think cheating on me was a mistake, but I was beginning to realize our marriage was our biggest mistake of all.
“I’ll love you forever, baby. You’re my world. I could lose everyone else, but as long as I have you, I’ll be happy,” Derek murmured against my hair.
I smiled and snuggled in closer to his side. My wedding dress was hanging from our closet door. Well, it wasn’t a real wedding dress, but it was the best one I could find on such short notice.
“I love you, too.”
I closed my eyes as I thought about my mom and my sister. I wished they were here. I wished they could see how happy he made me.
“You okay?”
I nodded and t
ook a deep breath, fighting the emotions welling in my chest. “I just wish my mom and sister were here.”
Derek kissed the top of my head. “They’ll come around. Just give it time.”
I began playing with the dog tags on his chest, the pad of my thumb rubbing across my husband’s name. “I hope so.”
His big hand curled around mine. “You’ll always have me.”
A warm tear slid down my cheek as I licked the paper and sealed the joint shut. My eyes kept weeping, but my mind no longer cared. The more I remembered, the more I numbed myself until I was just a bundle of thoughts floating in an empty body. I drained my glass of vodka, relishing the burn as it slid down my throat.
Almost there.
Lifting my lighter, I sparked the end of the joint and inhaled the smoke into my lungs.
“What are you doing?” Derek asked, walking toward me.
He was dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt. He was going out. I felt a small pang in my chest, and I quickly took another hit.
“Penelope, you can get me in a lot of trouble, smoking that shit. What if someone sees you?”
Turning my head, I peered up at him and narrowed my eyes as I blew the smoke toward him. He took a deep breath to suppress his anger before shaking his head and walking away.
“I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this. Let me know when you’re ready to start handling things like an adult.”
I stared straight ahead and flicked ashes onto the table before taking another hit. I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of thinking his words meant anything to me because they didn’t. He didn’t, not anymore. At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
Derek grabbed his keys before he opened the front door. Coldness swept into the room as I waited to hear it close behind him. After a few long seconds, it finally did. My shoulders slumped, and I dropped my forehead into the palms of my hands. As much as I’d tried to deny it, I knew my love made hating him so hard. It was my love that kept me there, sitting at that table.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out, checking the screen. It was a text from Tiffany.
I got it. Can I come over?
I held the joint between my lips and squinted as the smoke drifted in front of my eyes. I texted her back.
Yeah.
I stubbed my joint out on the table, and a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in!” I shouted as I made my way toward the kitchen for another drink.
Tiffany walked in and smiled, watching me set my empty glass down on the counter. “Well, it looks like you started without me.”
I didn’t say anything as I took a bottle of Grey Goose out of the freezer and twisted the cork out.
I walked back to the counter and glanced in her direction. “How much?”
Tiffany was my weed hook-up. I still wasn’t sure if I liked her. She was a little too chipper for my taste, but I could tolerate her in small doses.
“Sixty. It’s some good shit, too. Here, smell,” she said, pulling a sandwich bag out of her pocket and holding it in front of me.
I took it from her and opened it before sniffing the weed inside. My mouth watered. Dropping it on the counter, I poured some vodka into my glass.
“You think I could get one of those? It’s been a rough day.” She leaned against the wall beside her.
I opened the cabinet above me and took out another glass. Pouring what was left of the bottle into it, I slid it over to her.
“Thanks,” she muttered. Picking it up, she took a sip. She winced and grunted as the alcohol made its way down her throat.
Taking my vodka with me, I walked over to the table by the front door. I got my wallet out of my purse and pulled out three twenties. I held them out to her and she folded them before sliding her hand into her back pocket.
“So, where’s Derek?” Tiffany took another drink from her glass. “Brian told me he left work early today.”
I shrugged. She was also nosy.
I went back to my seat at the dining room table, and she sat beside me.
Tiffany was pretty in the typical prom-queen, cheerleader sort of way—long, straight brown hair, high cheekbones, and a perky body. She was probably in her early twenties and knew very little about disappointment.
I never really spoke to her unless it had to do with buying weed.
Her husband, Brian, was enlisted and worked for Derek, who was an officer. According to Derek, getting too close to his Marines and their wives could make things complicated for him. He was always looking for ways to move up in the ranks, and he was more concerned with appearances than anything else.
I had been introduced to Tiffany at a few command functions. I’d seen her buying rolling papers at a gas station the day after I’d overheard Derek’s phone call. I hadn’t smoked weed since college, but asking Tiffany for it had given me a little taste of satisfaction. Derek would be furious if he knew I was buying pot from his Sergeant’s wife.
“It’s my birthday,” I muttered before taking a swig from my glass.
Her eyes widened as a smile swept over her face. “Are you serious? Happy birthday! Why isn’t Derek here, celebrating with you?”
I cut my eyes at her but didn’t say anything.
“Men are such assholes. Brian has duty tonight,” she told me before taking another sip. She put her cup down and smacked her hand on the table. “We should go out and celebrate!”
I shook my head.
“Ah, come on. It’s your birthday. You shouldn’t be sitting here, getting wasted, all alone. Let me take you out,” she whined. She stuck out her bottom lip.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Well, at least let me get you high. I’ll roll a fat-ass joint, and we can sit here and get fucked up together. How does that sound?”
About an hour later, Tiffany and I were sitting on the kitchen floor, laughing, as we mopped up pickle juice with paper towels. She got up to toss them into the trash and slipped in the juice, falling back onto her ass. That only fueled our laughter, turning us into a snorting, crying mess.
“I smell like pickles!” she wheezed out between breaths.
For the first time in months, I wiped happy tears from my eyes. “Ouch! Ouch! Shit!” I shouted as I grabbed my T-shirt and rubbed my eyes with it.
“What? What’s wrong?” Tiffany asked, her laughter quickly dying.
“I got pickle juice in my eyes!”
“Pfft!” she spit all over me before bursting into another fit of laughter.
I used the counter to help pull myself to my feet and went to the sink to rinse my eyes out. Tiffany got up and stood beside me, her clothes reeking of vinegar.
“Oh my God, my stomach hurts.” She worked to catch her breath.
I stared at my hand under the running water, the joy of the moment slipping through my fingers and down the drain.
“Are you okay?”
Snapping out of my daze, I blinked before turning the faucet off.
“What? Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, putting her hand on my arm.
I nodded and moved away from her to get more paper towels.
“You can talk to me, you know. I’m not a gossip or anything. Shit, I hardly know anyone to gossip to anyway.”
Leaning back against the cabinet, I sighed and shook my head. I balled the paper towel up in my hands. “He cheated on me.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but I couldn’t help myself. The alcohol had overpowered my pride.
Tiffany’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. She took a deep breath, likely trying to comprehend what I’d just said. “Derek cheated? With who? When?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“How did you find out?” she asked in a hushed tone, like someone might hear her.
“I had my suspicions. He was working late all the time, stopped trying to…you know.” I paused to toss the ball of paper in the trash. “I heard him on the phone with her a week a
go. He thought I was in the shower. Shit, he’s probably with her right now.”
“Oh my God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry, Penelope. Does he know? That you found out, I mean.”
Nodding, I turned around and put my hands on the counter to steady myself and avoid her look of pity. She was the first person I’d told, and I was already regretting it. I refused to become his victim, to be Derek’s poor wife.
“I told him today,” I muttered as I began cleaning the chip crumbs and trash from the counter in front of me, doing anything to distract me from the pain in my chest.
She was silent for a few seconds before she came closer and put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I can’t…I can’t imagine how painful this must be.”
I nodded and glanced at her, giving her a tight smile. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? I know we aren’t really friends, but I’d like to be. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded as I fought to keep my tears at bay. Tiffany tugged on my shoulder, and I let her turn me as she pulled me in for a hug. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had comforted me like that.
“You’ll get through this,” she whispered.
I lost the fight, and my shoulders sagged as I broke down in her arms. I’d been keeping everything bottled inside of me for so long that I hadn’t realized just how much I needed a shoulder to cry on, how much I needed a friend.
Happy fucking birthday, Penelope.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Derek whispered into my ear as his strong arms wrapped around my waist.
I smiled at his reflection in the mirror as I put on my new earrings. “Thank you. They’re perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his lips grazing my neck.
“You smell good. Are you wearing the new cologne I bought you for Christmas?”
“Of course.”
Turning around, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m twenty-four. Our three-year anniversary is next month.”