by Diana W
Two days later, there was still nothing besides the "did you make it home safely?" text he sent that very same night. It was frustrating to check my phone every ten minutes for a missed call or text that wasn't there. After four days of no contact, I did something unusual. Instead of wallowing in my bed for my entire off day, the preferred choice, I got up and took a walk around the block of my parents' neighborhood. It felt...good. Rejuvenating. Not only to my body but my consciousness.
Once I made it back to the house, I continued my upbeat streak and decided to take a chance by sending Elliott a text. I played it cool by only inquiring about his day. Funny thing was that he responded back in less than five minutes. I never pressed him about why he hadn’t contacted me since our date because our conversation seemed to take off instantly. From that day forward, we stayed in touch with each other all day, every day. Slowly but surely, I was emerging from my shell and wanting to be in his presence more and more. He had a saint-like patience with my intimacy fears and often reassured me that he was here to stay in my life. He made me fall for him... hard. I trusted him with my heart. My life.
That's why this shit hurt so bad.
"Here," Denise's voice emerged, directing my attention to her while she placed the mug on the coffee table in front of me. We stared at each other briefly, and the sudden watering of my eyes made me look away first. I was trying desperately not to have a meltdown.
"Cas," her tone oozed with sadness. "What happened?" She took a seat by my feet, patting my thigh. "Talk to me."
I closed my eyes trying to prevent some of the rogue tears from falling. "Elliott cheated on me."
Denise's reaction fell somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, "Ohhh no." She placed her head on my thigh and reached her arms upward, almost bear hugging me. "Elliott? I would’ve never thought...I'm so sorry. I...I don’t know what to say."
"There's nothing to say," I quickly wiped my face.
"I just...wow...how'd you find out?"
"Saw it with my own eyes. In front of the Hilton on Airline," an image of the girl's face flashed in my mind. "She can't be any older than one of his students."
"Nooo," Denise's head flew up. Her short curly do was now smooshed on the side she was laying on. "What the fuc-, what the hell is wrong with him?" Her pointy nose wrinkled. "I know that trick ain't have something to do with that, right?" She referred to the stitches on my head.
"No," I forced myself to sit up. "That was self-inflicted," I sighed wishing I would've whooped ole girl’s ass. "Rushing from the parking lot I almost collided in the back of somebody. I broke so hard, that I hit my head on the steering wheel," I reached for the mug and held it by my mouth, savoring the perfect smell of the brew and then took a sip.
"What?! Why didn't you call me?!" She crossed her arms. Her upset facial expression looking every bit like our dad's.
"Because I knew you had that thing at Tyler's school and I honestly was so embarrassed that I didn't want anybody to know," I admitted
"But I'm not anybody," she reminded.
"You know what I mean," I took a deep breath. "I didn't want to be a burden."
Denise scooted closer to me and grabbed my free hand. "Don't do that. You know I'd never feel that way about you." She gave it a squeeze. "How many times have you come through for me when me and Gerald were at each other's necks?"
I didn’t respond because she did have a point. I became a referee numerous times for Denise and Gerald's marriage that was on a completely different planet from mine. Unlike Elliott and me, fighting with each other was their kumbaya. I would have never thought that my first time meeting Gerald though. He looked like every bit of a timid virgin with his comic book related vintage t-shirts and dusty Chuck Taylors to match ensembles. I assumed he allowed my sister, who had the tendency to act like the older sibling, to walk all over him but I learned quickly how wrong that was. For every smart remark she made, he had two. For every critique she had about his video game playing, which I discovered he made a shit ton of money from, he had one for her overzealous spending habits and lack of cooking skills.
She placed her head on my shoulder. "You know I broke one of his stupid headsets the other day?"
I shook my head and took another sip from my mug, "I don't know why you insist on terrorizing that poor man."
"Poor man?" she scoffed. "He told me he couldn't come to Tyler's open house because he had a game he needed to review before it was released. So, I told him he was a selfish asshole. And do you know what he had the nerve to say?"
"What?" I already knew it was something good. Gerald never disappointed.
"That that game was paying for Tyler's future college tuition and for food on the table, like the rice I can't boil."
I chuckled before I could catch myself. "Where was the lie Denise?"
She poked me in my side and unexpectedly made me laugh even harder.
"I knew I could make you smile."
I came down from my giggles and laid my head on top of hers. "How did I get here DeeDee? I thought he was happy. That we were happy."
"I don't know," she sighed. "You should ask him."
"If I could stomach the sight of him, I would. All I wanna do is stab him with the closest object and make him hurt like I'm hurting." The pain in my chest started again as my cheeks became wet with tears. "I haven't felt like this since...since…Shanice."
"Don’t say that," she wrapped her hands around me tightly. "I don't want you checking out on me again. I felt like I lost you too when she died."
Denise and I weren't only sisters, we were best friends. When I left for college, I still called after her school let out to see how her day was and inquire about homework and upcoming projects. She'd ask a million questions about the boys on campus, how difficult my classes were, and the latest parties. I spoke to her more than our own parents.
When Shanice died, so did my need for communication. We went from talking almost daily to weeks…to months. I stopped taking Denise’s calls period. She got to the point where she would leave long voicemails, telling me about her day on her own. Always making sure to tell me she loved me. I didn't realize how much my actions were affecting her until I heard her crying on a few of them.
"I promise I'll never do that to you again. I swear on everything," I sniffled. "It just hurts and I don't know how to make it stop."
"We'll find a way," she said abruptly and looked up at me. "I'm here. If I need to stay here with you until you're ready to talk to Elliott or until you figure out what's next, I will."
I knew she meant that too, but I wasn't sure if her staying with me was going to change anything. My issues were with one person and he owed me an explanation, whenever I was ready to hear it.
"Ok," I responded.
"Well, drink up," she kissed my cheek. "I took the day off and I assumed you did too."
"Yeah. I need to call Dan though. He won't be a happy camper," I internally cringed. He was a moody so and so when he wanted to be.
"Puhh lease," Denise rolled her eyes and got up. "Since the day you decided to take on his store his sales have been through the roof. His weird ass will be alright."
I managed a smile. It was no secret Denise loathed him. "Now why does he have to be all of that?"
She placed a hand on her narrow hip, "Because he's a fifty something year old who has a lingerie boutique but no wife. Not even a girlfriend. I bet you he's wearing thongs and stuff at home. "
"Denise," I warned trying not to laugh.
"What?" Her eyebrows hiked. "If he's a cross-dresser, that's fine with me. I ain't judging. That's between him and Jesus," she pointed upward. "Amen." She hummed and then turned on her heels towards the kitchen. She stopped and turned back around, "Before I forget, where's your car?"
I moaned holding onto my head. I completely forgot about needing to pick it up from the parking lot. "At the Hilton," I paused looking over to her, "by the airport."
Her eyes told me she'd kill me if she already didn't feel s
orry for me. "Lord, let me go get a cup of coffee too. You got some more explaining to do."
I sure did. That whole Officer Lucas situation needed to be told to somebody.
Chapter 5
My Hubby: Can we talk?
I rolled my eyes at the same text message Elliott had been sending no less than five times a day for the past week. I hadn't physically laid eyes on him since the wine bottle royale and still was in no hurry to. I was too consumed with trying to regain control over my life. Waking up almost midday, only to cry or scream or break something of his and then continue on until I drank enough wine to pass out. If it wasn't for Denise coming by before and after she had work, eating wouldn't be in that routine either.
I shoved my phone back into my purse and placed it in the bottom drawer of the lone file cabinet of the stock room. Elliott’s constant attempts at communication reminded me why I decided to come back to work today—I needed the distraction.
I smoothed my hands down the front of my form-fitted black dress and adjusted the black lace bunny ears on top of my head. A uniform element I requested all the employees wear. A touch of mine that I explained to Dan, added a little naughtiness to his “Sultry” brand.
Dan, short for Danny Sylvester, sought out my help last year after I appeared on the news for helping a local seventh ward seamstress revamp her custom dress shop. I brought her four-year decline in sales completely out of the red within two months of rebranding her entire business. It's a career I never thought I’d be in but it kind of fell in my lap during my time working at GAP. I had a knack for picking up on management and policy mishaps during my various shifts, so whenever our district manager would come to visit, I’d bring them all up to him. To my surprise, he’d have a candid conversation with me about possible solutions and even took some of my ideas up the chain of command. After his third or fourth time visiting our store, he encouraged me to get a job at GAP's headquarters in the business development or quality management departments. I knew I would never relocate to San Francisco to pursue them, but I did work out a deal to become something like a consultant for which they paid me very well to do. Unfortunately, even with the money, I quickly realized that I hated the technicalities of the corporate sector, which gave me the idea to assist smaller businesses. I wanted things to feel more personable and interactive. It’s a path I'd been on ever since.
I strutted towards the front of the store in my comfy black pumps, masking my inner turmoil with Mademoiselle colored lips. There were already three or four customers browsing around the store and we'd only been open for less than an hour. The change in the front window signage and the free chocolates must be working for the foot traffic.
Or just the chocolates.
Whatever it was, I was happy, and I knew Dan would be too.
I rounded one of the curvy mannequins and adjusted its red, laced baby doll ensemble. This was one of the “thickum bodies” I added to the lineup. In the city where food is literally on every corner, the mannequins needed to reflect that. Women should be able to visualize themselves in Sultry's negligee, as well as the men who may be purchasing it for them.
I looked up from my task and noticed an older gentleman holding up a royal blue thong like a dirty diaper. His expression every bit of confused.
"Hey, Erica," I whispered over to one of the employees who opened the store with me today.
"Already on it," she responded amused, heading in the man's direction.
This was one of the reasons I wanted to help this store. The employees welcomed me like family. It can be hard having some stranger step into your territory and try to alter your familiarity but not here. We had a store meeting, I explained my ultimate vision, and made it clear that they could come to me personally about any of the changes they had an issue with. To date, no one has ever complained and that informed me that I was on track with my progress.
I had gotten so caught up speaking with new customers, I hadn't realized that it was almost lunchtime and oddly enough, I was hungry. Who knew coming to work would help with that?
I grabbed my debit card and ID from my purse, slid my Olivia Pope inspired tan trench coat on and informed the other two workers that I'd be back in an hour or so. I walked the two blocks to my favorite taco spot and almost died when I saw the line curving from the entrance. I thought the place was one of the city's best-kept secrets, but obviously other folks had been bumping their gums about it.
I crossed my fingers and bypassed the line, hoping for a seat at the bar. When my eyes landed on the empty yellow stool, I almost broke out into a full sprint. If I had to fight somebody over this spot, so be it. I deserved this little ray of sunshine.
I clenched the back of the barstool for dear life and quickly hopped up onto the seat. In no less than five minutes, I had placed my order for my fresh guacamole and chips and a three-taco platter. I pulled out my phone to scroll through the latest fuckery on social media, but a familiar voice caught my attention. I looked over to my left and noticed Officer Lucas himself engaged in a conversation with another man. Looking all regular degular with a Corona in his hand.
Should I say something?
I mean I didn't have to, of course, but I felt like it was needed. I did half-ass thank him for the ride that night but then again, wasn't that his civil duty? My taxes paid for that unit he brought me home in anyway, so wouldn't that be more like chauffeuring? I shook my head at myself for the amount of thought I was putting into what should be a simple gesture of gratitude.
I hopped off the stool and placed my coat on the back of it. As I approached him, I saw his eyes widen followed by a subtle smile.
"Well, hey there," he nodded, making the guy he was with follow suit. I could tell they were related based on their eye shape and color but that's where it stopped. This guy’s hair was blonde, and he was clearly conceived or born on a weight bench. A steroid taking Zack Morris if you will.
"Hi," I threw up a little awkward wave. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just wanted to thank you again for the other night," my eyes rolled up towards the ceiling and back down.
"No need for that. I'm just glad you're ok," he continued grinning. "Oh," his expression dropped, and he swatted the other guy in the chest. "This is my brother Derek. Derek this is Cassie. She's..."
"A crazed woman he saved from killing her cheating husband," I interrupted with a shrug.
Derek did about three mortified blinks before doubling over with a howl. "Whoa.” He popped the cap off a fresh bottle of beer and held it towards me. "Here sweetheart. Sounds like you need this way more than we do."
Amused, I held up my hands in protest. "No can do. I'm on the clock."
"Well, you know what they say about all work and no play," Lucas interrupted, trying to lure me in.
"Yes, but I'd rather be miserable with a really nice paycheck," I smirked, making them both laugh. "You guys enjoy the rest of your meal. Thanks again," I nodded without waiting for a response and retreated back to my seat just in time to see my guacamole being delivered.
The second that heavenly green mush covered chip hit my tongue, I realized that the food gods were real. Only something supernatural could create that kind of a masterpiece with avocadoes.
I sat there inhaling the rest of my order until I was swiping my finger around the bowl for whatever was left of it. Was it shameful? Yes. Did I care? Not in the least. I had bigger problems than somebody thinking I was raised by wolves.
As the bartender removed the remains of my appetizer, I heard the sliding sound of the chair next to me.
"So how are you really?” I looked over to see Lucas now sitting adjacent to me, taking a swig from his bottle. I wanted to ask why he was so concerned about my well-being from the jump but decided against it. His past actions told me he was one of those Boy Scout types.
“I’m as good as to be expected. Whatever the hell that means,” I glanced up towards the television now showing the midday local news.
“That bad huh?” He placed
the bottle down.
“Worse,” I took a brief pause as my mind started drifting to my torment, but I quickly shook it off. “But that’s my crappy life to deal with. Trust me. You’ve done your duty and above.”
"My duty?" He sounded offended. "Is that why you think I've been involved?"
"I mean no offense," I placed my hand on my chest, "but what other reason is there? Some sort of redemption? Too much unarmed executions or something?"
Lucas' entire expression dropped. "Wow." He looked away and then stood up and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet in the process. "You know," he tugged out a few bills and placed them on the counter. "I wondered what kind of man your husband was to do what he did to a beautiful woman like you but," he put his wallet back in his jeans. His face was almost the color of the salsa sitting in front of me. "It's pretty clear to me that whatever fucked up issues you two got going on, you're probably the source of it."
"Excuse me," I snapped.
"Oh, you're more than excused," he picked up his beer and threw the rest of its contents back. "Fix your attitude and maybe, just maybe, you can get your husband to stop cheating on you," he placed the empty bottle down and walked away.
I blinked rapidly trying to subside my sudden rage and surprisingly, the sting those words caused to my eyes. I swallowed hard as I faced the bartender who was now placing my order in front of me. And just like that, my appetite was gone again.
Chapter 6
My feet felt like weights as I made my way up the walkway to the front door. Going to work was a great idea but it was evident my body hadn't caught up with my enthusiasm.
After lunch, I went back to Sultry and hid out in the backroom with my laptop. Truth be told, only thirty minutes of my post-lunch were dedicated to spreadsheets. The rest of the time, I sat there staring at the screen trying to figure out why Lucas' words affected me so much. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t believe they held any validity, simply because he knew nothing about my marriage except for the jacked-up situation he stumbled into.