by Jj Rossum
We stood in the middle of the living room, hugging for at least twenty or thirty seconds. I knew I didn’t want this to end, didn’t want her to leave, and I was sure she mostly felt the same way.
I walked her out the door and to her car.
“Goodnight, Luke,” she said.
“April,” I said, and she turned back toward me.
I kissed her once more on the lips, softly. There was nothing aggressive about it, and it didn’t last for even ten seconds, but I felt the surge of electricity once again. This woman made me feel things I hadn’t felt before.
“Goodnight,” I said as I stepped back.
She smiled, and then turned, got into her car, and drove away.
I went back inside and got myself ready for bed.
The phone beeped as I connected it to the charger. I turned the lights off and laid down, knowing my heart wouldn’t stop pounding for a while. I was perfectly okay with it, even if it was going to keep me from falling asleep.
“Well, there you go,” I said aloud to myself, “you’ve done it.”
My morning had started with the direct intent of ending things with April, not letting them get out of hand. And here I was less than twenty-four hours later having made out with her on my couch.
Don’t forget the dick grabbing, I reminded myself. That certainly didn’t qualify as ‘ending things’ either.
God, there was probably no backing out of it now. That opportunity had come today and I let it slip away. I wasn’t upset by it though. Maybe what had happened was meant to be. I mean, what were the chances of her husband having the worst professional outing of his career and then going home and hitting her on the day I had planned to end things with her but didn’t get the chance? What would have happened if he had hit her while they were still in Colorado? Would she have left him and never moved with him to Florida? Did she have some other guy there that she could have gone to in her time of need? Or had all of this happened now for a reason?
It certainly was complicated, but I guess that’s how life often is. I had kissed her. I couldn’t tell her “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that!” or “I really don’t think we should do that anymore!” It was done, and I had no idea what was going to come of it.
I fell asleep much more quickly than I thought, and slept soundly, because I didn’t remember anything from the moment I laid down until the time I woke up. It was already after nine, closer to nine-thirty, when I finally rolled out of bed.
I checked my phone and I had five texts. Three were from April, and two were from Holly.
April’s first text had been sent thirty minutes after she left my house. It read: Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without you.
The second was sent thirty minutes after the first one.
He’s passed out on the kitchen floor. I’m going to leave him.
I wasn’t sure if she meant that she was going to leave him on the floor, or leave him for good. I knew what I hoped she meant.
The third text was sent about ten minutes before I woke up.
He’s awake and making the family breakfast, not even a hint of a hangover.
I felt a little strange about texting her back with him being right there in the room with her.
Oh please. You just kissed her last night and now you’re worried about what her husband might think of a text?
Has he apologized about last night? I asked.
The two messages from Holly were both sent about an hour before I woke up.
You feeling better today? the first one asked.
I will stop by and see you around lunchtime if you are going to be home, the second one read.
Lunchtime for Holly was usually around twelve-thirty or one. She enjoyed sleeping in after a long night’s work, and I couldn’t blame her. Especially since she was going to be doing it all over again tonight. But, she was obviously up earlier than normal today. Maybe she woke up, sent me the texts, and then fell back to sleep. That had also happened plenty before. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper.
Feeling a little better today, yeah, I replied. We weren’t anything. But there was something that was starting to bother me about lying to Holly.
I got up, showered, and fixed myself a bowl of Cheerios. I have a weird habit of never eating cereal before nighttime, but occasionally I make an exception.
My phone stayed silent as the morning crawled along. I cleaned things, tidied up here and there, but found myself very distracted mentally. Every time I closed my eyes I could see her face, smell her skin. I could taste it. I wondered what the rest of her tasted like.
April had married young, and foolishly, just like I had. Carrie and I would have ended disastrously. But, instead of becoming a divorcee I became a widower. How long would it have taken me to end things with Carrie? How many years would it have taken the two of us to see that our hearts were mismatched? It seemed like April was coming to this realization with her violent, asshole husband.
I wondered if everyone reached that point after eight or nine years of marriage, the “Oh my god, I’ve made an enormous mistake” point. I wondered, too, if that point was reached because the person saw all the better options available to them, or because they simply realize what a shit they said “I do” to.
Leaving Carrie probably never would have been an option. Nobody divorces their high school sweetheart. Those were usually the stories that inspired other people. “Oh, look at them—in love since high school. How adorable!” They were also the stories that encouraged other high-schoolers to make the same mistake and jump right in before they could even drink legally, thus starting the cycle over again. Carrie and I had been the reason a few other friends of ours had married young as well. And last I heard, one of the two couples ended quickly in divorce. The other couple was probably still together because of the sex.
April’s situation was obviously more complex. Her husband was most definitely still alive, and the two children probably didn’t make the thought of divorce any easier. The fact that Marco made as much money as he did and enabled her to at least live a “comfortable” lifestyle probably didn’t help either. Living comfortably with a man whose job took him all over the country all of the time probably made his antics easier to live with too. I guess if you could put up with his shit, it wasn’t exactly a terrible scenario.
But was comfort as important as chemistry? As important as the possibility of love? Nobody liked to admit they were wrong, that they chose the wrong person, that all the advice people gave them beforehand was actually correct. People don’t like upsetting the apple-cart. And, I think there reaches a point where people just give up, and say they are going to live with their mistakes, no matter how big they are. Or no matter how unhappy the person really is. I think those people are quitters. Happiness is always attainable, no matter how old or young a person is. They just have to be willing to stand up and fight for it. To say—”I’ve put up with this shit long enough, but not anymore. Now, I am living for myself, and my own happiness.”
I wanted to take April by the shoulders and tell her this, tell her she didn’t have to live in the lavish hell Marco had created for her. She could be happy. It didn’t even have to be with me, but she needed to be happy somewhere, with someone who would treat her like she deserved to be treated.
My feelings for April were there the moment I saw her. The way my heart had momentarily stopped when I had first seen her, and the way it went into overdrive right after that. I could see a thousand women a day for the rest of my life and probably not have that initial reaction with any of them. I liked Holly. I was really liking the woman she was becoming. But Holly had never made me feel the way April did in the first few minutes. I guess you could say that April gave me butterflies, even though that wasn’t a very manly thing to say.
And the more I had gotten to know her, the more I liked her. She was funny, sarcastic, kind, clever, and a bit edgy. Not to mention beautiful. Obviously. To me at least. But it was the way I felt aro
und her that I couldn’t quantify with words. She just made me...feel.
And it did scare me. She was married. There was obviously no guarantee anything would happen. We had pushed a few boundaries, but it wasn’t like I could take her out on dates and plan a future with her. Not yet at least. She had to decide to leave him first. And what if she didn’t? What if she just wanted to connect with someone since she hated her husband, but really had no intention of leaving him. What if I continued this, this...whatever it was with her and eventually she moved on to someone else who could do the same for her. What if leaving Marco wasn’t an option and I was wasting my time thinking it might be, or should be? I had no idea how strong the draw of her current lifestyle really was. And there was no way in hell she would be living a lifestyle even close to that with me.
And her kids. What about them? I hadn’t even met them yet. Knowing my luck, they were probably little terrors, mini-Marcos raising hell at every turn.
Fuck. This is why I liked working. It was never a good idea to be trapped in my thoughts for too long. I needed to get out of the house. And I knew where I needed to go.
Car dealerships always creeped me out a little bit. Acres of cars just sitting there waiting for you to choose them while the salespeople circled around like vultures hoping to spot carrion. As soon as I got out of the Roller Skate, it was like a mad dash to see which vulture could get to me first. A few of them stayed back, no doubt because of the quality of my car. Hopefully for the last time.
I had always been decent with my money, until Carrie got sick and everything we had went to paying her medical bills. In the years since her death, I had finished paying them off and had started building up my bank account once again. I could have afforded the payments on a new car a while ago, but part of me felt like I had to keep Carrie’s car. I was a nostalgic person by nature anyway, and the Roller Skate was a homage to my deceased wife. But, it was time to move past that. And seeing as how I had kissed a married woman the night before, there seemed to be no better time than the present. April had awakened me, and this was a big step in continuing that process.
Holly finally responded to my text while I was at the dealership, and when I told her what I was doing she got excited.
That’s awesome! Bye-bye Roller-Girl!
Then she said, Just know that I will be helping break in whichever car you decide on ;-)
I swear this girl thought about sex all the time. She had the mind of a guy. And normally, I wasn’t complaining.
The day crept by, and I spent most of it in the office of the car salesman who was running credit and doing the paperwork. Thankfully, I had been chosen by salesman-vulture Andy, who seemed to be the least slimy of all of the salespeople. He had steered me in the direction of an SUV after I told him the things I was interested in, and before long he was starting the paperwork on my new Dodge Nitro.
I still hadn’t heard anything from April. I knew her husband was around, but I didn’t like not hearing from her either. I wanted to text and see if everything was okay, but I wasn’t sure if it was a good time. I figured I could wait until I knew he was at the stadium before I sent another. That was if he went to the game at all. After his display the night before, it was possible the team was telling him to stay home. With the season coming to an end, maybe they would just not want him back at all.
Vulture Andy decided to make conversation. Because I was a guy, naturally he chose sports.
“Did you see the Rays game last night?” he asked, as the keyboard clicked away under his rapidly moving fingers.
“Yeah. I was there, actually.”
“No shit,” he said, clearly not caring that it wasn’t exactly proper to curse in front of your customers.
I never understood the phrase “No shit.” Was I supposed to respond, “Yes shit!” or “Maybe shit?” Or “No, I was just saying that to be a shit...shit.”
Also, the phrase “I’m just fucking with you.” I am always tempted to reply, “I didn’t give you permission to ‘fuck with me’. So, that’s considered rape, motherfucker!”
Mind tangents.
“Yeah, it was pretty wild,” I replied. Yes shit.
“God, that Batista guy. Can you believe him?” Andy said, head shaking emphatically. “I never can figure out what the Rays saw in that asshole?”
“Join the club,” I said without even thinking.
He laughed.
“I’d want nothing to do with him. Anyone who does is out of their mind.”
Fuck you, Andy.
I got less talkative, and his work speed quickened, and soon enough I was on the road in my new vehicle.
I inhaled deeply every few minutes, thoroughly enjoying the new car smell. I wondered when the new car smell faded away, and what I would have to do to make it last as long as possible. I was also loving the air conditioning, which meant early morning showers in the school locker room were now a thing of the past. Thank Jesus in heaven.
I still felt bad for lying to Holly to keep her away from the house while April was there.
I called Holly to see what she was doing. She sounded distracted, and a little upset. Her boss had called her in early to help clean up the mess the lunch bartender had made.
Holly hated when people left her bar a mess. Absolutely loathed it. She took pride in her work, and her work station. But, she also hated getting called in early or on the days she needed off. So, this was like a double whammy.
I decided to go see her at work. I rarely got the chance to go down there when the place wasn’t hopping. It would be later that night, but it most certainly wasn’t going to be now.
The bar was mostly empty, save two men who were hunched over their snifters of brandy. The men were older and very well dressed. I was pretty sure they were a couple.
Holly had her back turned to the patrons and was returning all the different bottles of alcohol to their rightful places. I had never watched a bartender do this, and I was impressed by how methodical she was.
“Gin and tonic, please,” I said.
Holly turned, and I could tell by her body language she hadn’t wanted to be interrupted by a customer.
But it all changed when she saw me. Her mouth opened in surprise, and she did the jazz hand thing.
“Hey you,” she said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I took a stool three down from the brandy men.
“Just wanted to see the Bay Area’s sexiest bartender do her thing.”
“Well, I’m not jumping on the bar for you, if that’s what you think is happening.”
Her hands moved quickly as she made my drink. She knew the brand of gin I liked, so she didn’t even have to ask. She slid my drink over and leaned over the bar, giving me a view of my favorite white bra.
“I’ve got something you can jump on later, if you are so inclined,” I said.
“Luke!” She threw her rag at me. “We kick perverts like you out of here all the time. Ain’t that right, guys?”
The brandy men voiced their agreement.
Holly’s smile never left and I could feel the tug of war in my heart pulling me back into her camp. God, I was a mess.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Holly’s boss walk into the room. I had never actually seen him before, but from the descriptions she gave me, I knew it was him. His monstrous, bushy eyebrows gave it away.
“Hey, Holly,” he said, pointing to one of the TVs overhead. “Turn that up.”
All of our glances went up to the television. It had been on the sports’ station, but there was a special news report breaking in.
We caught the news anchor mid-sentence.
“...has confirmed that at 4:13pm Eastern Standard Time, Flight 2133 from Dallas to Miami crashed into the Gulf of Mexico. The death toll is not currently known, but is considered to be high. We go now to Paul Barry, live in Dallas. Paul...”
“Awful,” Holly’s boss said. “Turn it off. I’m tired of all this bad news.”
Holly
obliged.
Nothing like bad news to kill the mood.
“God, that would be the worst way to die,” Holly said to me. “I think I would choose any other way but that.”
I disagreed. There were many other forms of death I considered to be worse than death by plane crash.
“If you could choose any way to die, what would it be?” she asked, running a rag over the counter.
“That’s a pretty morbid topic,” I said.
Holly’s face flushed. “I’m so sorry, Luke.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I forget sometimes about Carrie.”
“Not cancer,” I said, finishing off my drink. “I’d go with something that had to do with free falling. Sky diving accident, careening off a cliff.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Really? I didn’t take you for a daredevil.”
“I’m not,” I admitted. I reached out a finger and touched the tip of her scrunched up nose. “That’s why I’d want to die one.”
“Well, I’d like to die while having sex,” she announced loudly. The guys a few stools away raised their glasses to her. “But, not until I’ve had an orgasm. Right in the middle. That’s the way to go out.”
I laughed and ordered another drink. There was no one quite like Holly.
Pretty soon, the dinner crowds started to come in and I said my goodbye.
I still hadn’t heard from April as I drove home, and was beginning to think I wouldn’t for the rest of the day. Probably for the rest of the weekend.
I warmed up some of the soup April had made for me and turned on the baseball game. Naturally, the pre-game show consisted mostly of talking about what had transpired the night before. Marco had apparently been suspended by the team for the remainder of the season and wouldn’t be joining them for the final week of games. This was obviously good news for the team, but I imagined it would be bad news for April. Now she was stuck with him at home all the time. Good thing she had a job to escape to.
Halfway through the second inning, my phone rang. It was April.
“Hello,” I said, surprised to see her calling.