One Week

by Roya Carmen

  “These things can be worked out,” Kayla says. “My friend’s sister is a counsellor, and does couples therapy—”

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t want therapy.” Sitting on an uncomfortable chair in front of a stranger, and telling her all our problems is not going to make me less angry. If anything, it’ll make me more upset.

  “But…” Kayla says, at a loss for words.

  “I have another plan,” I tell them. The girls and I share everything, and I don’t see why I should hide this from them. They’ll wonder why I’m flying off to Denmark out of the blue. I might as well tell them.

  They’re all wide-eyed, waiting for me to elaborate.

  “What?!” Corrie asks. “What plan?”

  “Remember the guy I met on the Internet, the one I told you about?”

  Corrie sits up straighter. “The hot one with the scooter?!”

  I nod. “Well, he and I have become friends—”

  Maeve leans in. “I thought you were staying away from that guy.”

  “Well, I was, but now everything’s changed.”

  “So what, are you going to fuck him?” Corrie says, asking the question on everyone’s mind.

  Maeve and Kayla’s jaws drop to the floor.

  I bite my bottom lip. “Well, I’m planning to go see him for a week, and we’ll see what happens.”

  Corrie laughs out loud. “A revenge fuck,” she says a little too loudly. “I fucking love it!”

  Kayla shakes her head. “It sounds crazy, Gabs. Do you even know this guy? He could be a serial killer.”

  She sounds exactly like John. “I do. I do know him.”

  “Does John know about this?” she asks.

  “Yes, he doesn’t like it, but he has no say in the matter. I told him that he needs to let me do this, or I’m leaving him.”

  Maeve is still wide-eyed. If she doesn’t blink soon, her eyes will shrivel up like raisins. “You gave him an ultimatum?”

  I shrug. “I guess.” I know it sounds childish, and a little crazy.

  “Well, he got to have some fun, why shouldn’t she?” Corrie points out. “I love it!”

  Corrie is enjoying this a little too much.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “THIS SEEMS LIKE A REALLY BAD PLAN to me, Gabs,” Kayla says, determined to rain on my fucked-up parade. “These kind of arrangements never work out for the best.”

  Maeve’s eyes are still bulging out of her head, and I’m not surprised. But I’m shocked by Kayla’s reaction. She’s a free-spirit, a believer in free love and all that. She doesn’t really believe in monogamy, and is always in casual and friends-with-benefits relationships. She doesn’t usually take sex too seriously.

  “What’s the big deal?!” I ask. “It’s just sex. I’ll have some fun, and then when I come back, I won’t be so angry, and John and I can pick up the pieces.”

  “But that’s not you,” Kayla points out. “It’s never just sex for you.”

  “How do you know?” I scoff. “You don’t know me that well.”

  “So this hottie’s going to screw the angry out of her,” Corrie says. “And then she’ll be able to stand John again, and not want to tear his balls out. And she’ll get to see Copenhagen, which is an amazing city. What’s the big deal?”

  Kayla puffs out a breath and makes a ‘tsk’ sound.

  “I think you’re a little jealous,” Corrie taunts.

  Kayla rolls her eyes.

  Maeve finally blinks.

  And Corrie laughs.

  When the one week is up, John asks me if I still want to do this, and I tell him yes. “I can’t believe you’re willing to destroy our marriage for a quick meaningless fuck,” he says.

  “Says the man who’s had a five month affair,” I reply, and the conversation is over.

  I still have Eli’s e-mail address in my contacts. My heart beats frantically against my ribcage as I type the few words that might change my life.

  Hi Eli,

  I know I’ve ended it between us, and thank you for respecting my wishes and not contacting me.

  I feel nauseous. Maybe he never really cared. Maybe that’s the reason he gave up on me so easily. What if he thinks I’m a crazy bitch who likes playing games, and never replies? That would completely destroy me.

  But something’s happened, and I would really love to talk to you. Please reply when you can. :)

  Gabriella

  The next two days are pure torture. I obsessively check my phone, and every single time, there’s nothing. I start to wonder if I’ve really gone crazy. Maybe I should talk to someone, a professional. I don’t cry in my pillow, but I do cry in the bath, on the floor of my en-suite, and my walk-in closet. What was I thinking? The man does think I’m a crazy bitch. I picture him with some young hot blonde. I picture John with his pretty brunette. I pull at my hair, trying to erase the images. I can’t go on like this.

  Theo finds me kneeling on the plush carpet of my closet. I’m crying into my pink bathrobe, the one with little rainbows all over it.

  “Mommy?” he says. I never usually cry in front of the kids — this must be a shock for him. “What happened?” he asks. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  Did I hurt myself? Yes, I did. I made my own bed when I willingly embarked on this relationship with a seductive stranger. And John has hurt me too, so much.

  I smile up at him, and in that small precious moment, I remember that I still have my wonderful children, no matter what. John can’t take that from me. “I did,” I tell him. “I knocked my head on the corner of that dresser. It hurts a lot.” I press the palm of my hand on my forehead.

  He pouts and inches closer. “Can I kiss it better?”

  His words make me cry even harder. “Yes.” I pull my hand away, and he presses his soft tiny fingers in my hair and kisses my forehead.

  I grab him in my arms tightly, and never want to let go.

  Sorry, I haven’t checked my e-mail for a while. Very busy in the studio. I was surprised to hear from you. What’s up, Gabriella?

  His message catches me by surprise – I’d almost given up on him. I’d almost given up on John too. I’ve been angry and miserable. I just want to do this, and get all this over with.

  I want my old life back.

  Can we video chat?

  About an hour later, he replies.

  Sure. When?

  I check my watch — it’s two in the afternoon. The kids are at school, and John is at the gym.

  Now?

  I anxiously check my phone, and about fifteen minutes later, he replies.

  Sure.

  A few minutes later, we’re on Skype, and I’m looking right at his beautiful face. It’s exactly like I remembered. His hair is a scruffy mess, he has five-day stubble, and wears a worn grey t-shirt. He looks like a bum, yet he’s still gorgeous. His eyes are as amazing as ever, and laced with concern.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Yes, you could say that.”

  He cocks a brow, very curious.

  My gaze shifts to the vase of flowers on my desk — I can’t look at him. “I found out about two weeks ago that John has been having an affair.”

  A venture a look up at the screen — he’s shocked. And speechless.

  “Anyway, it’s been tough.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gabriella,” he finally manages. “You don’t deserve that.”

  “I know. I haven’t been completely innocent myself, I know, but I ended things between us when I thought it was going too far.” I can barely look at him — every time I do, I’m filled with want. I still want him.

  He nods. “I know. You were good. You did the right thing.”

  “I always do the right thing.”

  “I know,” he says quietly, and his gaze is fixed to mine — his eyes seem darker, and his voice softer. A long silence threatens to make the conversation uncomfortable.

  “I want to see you,” I blurt out. My heart is pounding, and I can barely breathe. “I wa
nt to come and see you in Copenhagen. For a week, maybe.”

  His eyes darken. “Oh…”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry. You’ve probably got a lot going on. You don’t wanna see me—”

  “It’s not that… it’s just, I don’t want to be in the middle of…” He inches closer, and his flawless face fills my screen. “You’re hurt, and you’re not thinking straight.”

  My chest caves in. He doesn’t want me. This was just a fun on-line flirtation. He thinks I’m a bored crazy housewife. I’ve been such a fool.

  “I know, I’m stupid,” I say. “Sorry I bothered you—”

  “No, no. Don’t you dare,” he snaps. “Don’t you dare end this call. We need to talk.”

  I let out a sigh. “About what?!”

  A slow smile curves his lips, and I completely melt. “Well, first off, I’d love to have you visit,” he says. “We could have so much fun.”

  I smile like a kid at an amusement park.

  “But I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. I don’t want to be a pawn in your marriage games, Gabriella. I like you too much for that. And I don’t want you to do this just because you’re mad at your husband.”

  I nod. “I know…”

  “I want you to think this over for a few weeks, and then if you still want to visit, I’ll be glad to have you. I love having people over. My sister comes to visit about once a year.”

  I’m so excited, I feel like I might burst, but I desperately try to contain my excitement. I clear my throat. “That sounds like a good plan. My friend, Corrie, says that Copenhagen is an amazing city, and it’s one of the few places in the world I haven’t had a chance to see.”

  He smiles. “I think you would love it.”

  “Yes, I think I will,” I say, and catch myself. “I mean, I think I would.”

  “And if you decide to come, I’ll be the perfect host, and gentleman.”

  Darn.

  “Sounds great.”

  Chapter Twenty

  THE VIEW OUTSIDE THE WINDOW is grey and drab, kind of like my thoughts. Although, the restaurant is quite nice and cozy; an old renovated Victorian home with brick covered walls and stain glass windows, dark flooring and antique chairs, crisp white table linens. It’s very quiet since it’s a Tuesday night — there’s just us two out in the sunroom. John and I need to talk, and a quiet restaurant is the perfect place. We’ve specifically requested a secluded spot.

  The server is friendly but doesn’t hover too much. We’ve selected our appetizers and entrées. And we’re both nursing glasses of wine. White for me and red for him.

  “You’re good with Italian,” he asks.

  “Yes,” I reply. My gaze darts across the space. “I like this place.”

  “So…” he says.

  “So…” I bite my lip. “My plan is still in motion.”

  He’s hurt, and he tries to put on a brave face, but I know him too well. “That’s fine, but just so you know, I’ve been good on my end. I want us to work this out, Gabbie.”

  “I know,” I tell him. “We’ve decided to give it a few weeks. This should give me plenty of time to make sure this is what I want to do, and Copenhagen gets a little warmer in April. We’re thinking the third week of April.”

  He nods and reaches for a bun from the bread basket. He butters his bun, and doesn’t say a word.

  “You know, there’s a big chance that nothing will even happen between us,” I point out, and his gaze lifts to mine, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Eli is not keen to get in the middle of this, and you know, if he wants sex, I’m sure there are plenty of gorgeous Dane women who are willing.”

  “I bet. I’ve seen the guy,” John says.

  “He seems pretty excited about showing me the city, and I’m excited too. I don’t think I’ve ever been on an overseas trip without you before. This will be good for me.”

  It’s true. Although, John’s been on quite a few trips for work; events and signings across the world, even Australia. I’ve never been anywhere far without him. Just a few business trips in the states.

  “Well, I hope you have a good time, Gabbie,” he says. “And I hope you don’t forget about me and the kids.”

  “Here are your appetizers, folks,” our server cheers, completely oblivious as she sets down our salad and Bruschetta. “Enjoy!”

  John is in his den, the kids are at school, and I’m in my loft, laughing my head off.

  “Wait until you see this one,” Eli says.

  I bite my lip, and wait patiently as he works the towels, his arms busy. I can’t wait to see. I’m like a little kid in front of a magician. What will he show me next?

  “Ta-dah!” he says, and shows me his towel monkey.

  “That’s impressive,” I cheer. “The skills you acquire working as a cruise ship cabin maid… who knew?”

  “Cabin steward,” he corrects me. “And I also have excellent cleaning skills. You’ll see when you come over. My place is spotless.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I say. “I’m kind of a clean-freak too, so we have that in common.”

  “Yeah, I’m freakishly clean for a creative type. Usually, artists are messy.”

  “Me too,” I say. Yes, my house is clean and tidy, but my life is a complete mess. “Do me another one,” I ask. I just can’t get enough — can’t get enough of him — I don’t want him to go. I want to hold on to this feeling forever.

  “This one is special just for you,” he says. “I’ve actually just learned this one,” he tells me as his arms move unbelievably fast. “Swans, monkeys, butterflies, those are easy but this…”

  I wait eagerly. How can a person crash into your life, and make you feel like a kid again? What happens after Copenhagen? I promised John that I would end things with Eli after, but I can’t bear the thought of ever saying goodbye to him. How can I say goodbye to this?

  “Ta-dah!”

  I squint a little and study the towel animal, not quite sure… but the long curling trunk gives it away. “You made me an elephant!”

  “Yeah, learned that one just for you.”

  Fuck.

  “You like it?”

  Fuck. I think I’m falling in love.

  “Yeah. It’s great,” I reply. “I love it.” This is about more than sex, this is about how he makes me feel, how he makes me laugh, how he makes me look forward to every day. I won’t be able to let him go.

  “What is it, Gabriella?”

  I can’t fool him. He knows something’s up, but I haven’t actually mentioned the bit about goodbyes yet. And I don’t feel like getting into it tonight — I’m such a coward. “I just… I’m still just so upset about John.”

  His face darkens. “I know…” He clearly doesn’t know what to say.

  “I still can’t believe he did this to me, to us. I know I’ve not been completely innocent either, but I’ve never seriously contemplated infidelity. Ever.”

  I understand temptation. Infidelity is something I’d thought about, but would never have gone through with. Like a teenage girl trying on a glitzy skirt she knows she could never afford, infidelity was always a fantasy. But he made it real, and now everything has changed.

  “I think about her a lot,” I tell him. “I picture them together—”

  “You can’t… you need to stop doing that.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” I tell him.

  “Believe me, I know where you’re coming from.”

  I’ve been so self-involved that I’ve completely forgotten that he’s been through the exact same thing. “I’m sorry, Eli. Here I am bitching about all my problems, and I know you’ve been through this too.”

  “Well, it was a while ago, but I know you’ll drive yourself crazy if you don’t let go.”

  “I just can’t stop thinking about her,” I confess. It’s something I haven’t even admitted to my friends. “I wonder if her skin is softer than mine, if her hair is silkier, if her pussy is sweeter…”


  Eli’s eyes visibly darken. “God… Gabriella, just stop it. Promise me you’ll stop.”

  “I can’t.” I try to make him understand. “I start thinking about it, and I can’t stop.”

  “Okay, let’s try this,” he says. He scratches his scruffy chin. “Every time you think about her, or about them, I want you to stop, and Google Copenhagen. I’ll give you a list of attractions to research. I want to fill your brain with this trip, and I want you to forget all about them.”

  “Okay… I can try.”

  “I’ll get you a list by the end of the day.”

  “Sorry, I’m such a downer,” I say. “I’m sure this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night. You should be out with your buddies at a club.”

  He laughs. “No, I’m perfectly happy chatting with you.”

  “Hey, you want to see something goofy,” I ask.

  He smiles. “Yes, always.”

  I angle the phone toward my feet, and stretch my toes. The ears on my dog slippers stand up straight, and my feet look pretty funny. He laughs, and it erases all the pain, but just for a second or two.

  “Don’t look too close,” I warn. “I’ve got some stubbly legs going.”

  “Show me,” he says. “Go closer.”

  I laugh. “No way.” I turn the screen around to face me again.

  “So you’re not into shaving your legs…” he teases.

  “Well, usually I am,” I tell him. “But it’s still winter, and I haven’t had sex in ages, so you know…”

  “John is still in the guest room?”

  “Yep,” I say, “but I’m planning to shave my legs before my trip to Copenhagen.”

  He grins. “Well, you know… it’s just as cold here. You won’t be wearing shorts or summer dresses.”