by Sarah Tork
“Making new friends wherever it is you moved to, right?” Ben asks.
“Tons.”
There’s a moment of silence before Ben breaks it. “You look nice,” Ben says quietly.
“Thank you.”
“Never seen you look like this before,” Ben whispers.
“Okay…”
“What happened? You never dressed like this before, or fixed your hair this extravagantly when we dated.”
“Well, it’s been a while since I saw my family, and I wanted to look nice for Dad’s birthday party.”
Ben stands silently; his eyes seem unconvinced with my answer. “So you fixed yourself up for your dad’s party?” Ben asks slowly.
“Yeah.”
“No one else?” he prompts.
“Nope…priorities, remember?”
“I remember.”
The bartender slides my drink towards me, and I grab it and bring it to my lips. The cranberry juice’s flavor explodes across my tongue. I turn back to Ben as I suck the drink down.
“Alright, well – I’m going to sit back down with Darcy.”
Ben unfolds his arms and nods. “Okay.”
I smile timidly at him and nod a goodbye.
Walking away with my back turned to the former (I think) love of my life, it’s as if everything is in slow motion. I do my best not to stumble in these six-inch fabulous heels as I make my way around the tables, on my way back to the little kids’ table.
I’m sitting at the little kids’ table…it seems not much is going to change. Is my mindset still like that? Like the lazy, overgrown woman-child everyone saw me as when I lived here? I hope not. I hope I’ve grown and matured, becoming a responsible adult.
I feel his eyes scan the entirety of my back, and dare I say hungrily, because I’m not an idiot. I saw the look in his eyes when he saw me for the first time after so long.
Yep. I look good and he knows it.
This makes me smile. I like knowing I’m still wanted, even if it is purely sexual.
But that’s as far as it’s ever going to go; he can look, but he can’t touch.
And if he cries about that later, that’s his fault. Maybe for his next girlfriend (Gulp!) he won’t fool around with some side-piece because he claims loneliness and drunkenness are the causes.
Responsibility.
Learn it. Love it. Remember it.
Ben, are you listening right now?
I circle the last table with my head down, careful not to make eye contact with one of my parents’ friends who wants the 411 on what I am up to, and where I have been for the past five months. I make it back to Darcy’s table in one piece, put my drink down on the table with my clutch, and smooth the back of my dress as I sit down. I glance back at the bar as the bartender slides a shot of something towards Ben, who quickly picks it up and slams it back.
What? I stare confused. Why is Ben drinking a shot? At the same time as my new- found worry, the bartender slides another shot towards Ben, who downs it in record time.
Two shots…why? We aren’t at a party with our peers to be drinking like this. This is my dad’s fiftieth birthday party! Who would get drunk at a party like this? Only the older people are supposed to be getting drunk; this party is their chance to unwind and let loose, and us, their young-uns, to be appointed as their designated drivers. Why is Ben slamming back shots of Vodka like a frat boy?
He’s miserable, maybe? The thought melts the armor around my heart a tad. Is he that miserable? Did I cause him that much pain that he needs the help of alcohol to ease it enough to get through the party?
Oh my God! The bartender slides over a transparent plastic cup filled with cranberry and Vodka. I know this because that was our favorite drink; well, it’s still mine, and apparently, it is still his as well. It just isn’t our favorite drink anymore; we aren’t together to have ‘ours’ anymore. This makes me sad, surprisingly. I thought I cast all emotions involving Ben that didn’t belong in the anger-let-him-burn category to the side, awaiting cremation.
The feelings just don’t want to die. What am I going to do? If the feelings I thought were gone were not really gone, how am I going to make it through another conversation with him? That is, if we’re going to even speak again. Not unless I purposely ignore him or pretend I’m busy.
I don’t know…I’m making things complicated again.
Yeah, I do that too!
Chapter Four
*Demetria*
Upon our arrangement, my cell number was programed into Xander’s phone at once.
Here’s where the picture doesn’t make any sense, I received the news of Xander’s spontaneous arrival at around 11am; it is now 8:30 pm, and my cell has sat motionless beside me on my bed while I’ve been awaiting the phone call I knew was going to happen.
It didn’t happen.
My fingers clench automatically into tight fists, digging into the comforter as my eyes close. I try to remind myself that he is probably just busy and will call me as soon as he is done with the many charities he works free of charge while visiting Ottawa.
That’s the kind of man he is: sweet, caring, giving, generous, everything I want in a man, a potential partner, all for life.
There is no other way around it; he and I are meant to be, with or without a phone call. I snap my eyes open and unclench my fists, bringing them up and pushing my wild curly hair to the sides.
Suddenly, an idea pops into my head; a brilliant one, if I do say so myself. If he is not going to come to me, I’m going to go to him. There’s nothing better than a surprise home visit; one I am sure he will appreciate. And why wouldn’t he? I am the one for him, and he should be overjoyed upon seeing his one and only after so long. I know where he stays usually when he is in town, considering I had met him numerous times at the same hotel, in the same room in downtown Ottawa.
I fling myself off the bed with adrenaline coursing through my veins, excitedly making my way to my locked door. I unlock it and swing it open fast.
“Mother!” I yell into the dark hallway. “Mother!”
After a few seconds, the sound of her expensive Louboutin’s click against the marble staircase. “Yes, darling, I’m coming. No need to shout; Mommy’s coming!” she calls out, beginning to sound more and more out of breath as she completes the trek up the stairs. I cross my arms impatiently over my chest.
What is taking her so long? I hear her feet shuffle down our long hallway.
“Hurry up! I don’t have all day!” I command curtly as she comes to a halt in front of me. My mother is really an older version of myself. Wild, dark-brown curly hair and white alabaster skin that would rival the smoothest surfaces of the world (thanks to the best dermatologist in Canada). She isn’t as tall as I am; I’m 5’9”. And let’s not forget our eyes, which are a deep blue.
Yeah, we are pretty like that, everything a man could ever want. That’s why Daddy is always away for work; he has to work constantly to support our extravagant lifestyle. He cares for us. That’s why he works so much; and I’m sure Mother has no problem with his absence. I, on the other hand, have been in constant pain without my one and only. I yearn for his strong arms to hold me at night, and it’s been so long since I’ve been within reach of him. Honestly, it’s been dreadful; I would practically be suicidal if I didn’t love myself so much.
“Yes, darling, is everything okay?” Mother asks concerned.
I stare at her for a few seconds, and then tilt my neck to the side abruptly, creating a quick cracking sound.
“I need a ride downtown in half an hour. Do you understand?” I narrow my eyes as I make my demands.
Mother’s eyes widen for a moment; it’s nearly nine at night. It’s been so long since I’ve been out at that time, many, many months actually.
“Out now?” Mother asks, obviously confused at the sudden change of my nightly habits. Normally, about now, I’d have been preparing for bed, considering most nights I get about ten hours of beauty sleep.
Oh no, this just won’t do! I blink repeatedly at her; it could have been a few seconds or a whole minute; all I know is the next words out of her mouth had better involve an apology.
“Of course not, darling, my apologies. You know Mommy is not like those other mothers who want to get in the way of their daughter’s fun!” Mother exclaims, horrified at the mess she almost got herself into.
That’s what I thought.
“I need a ride in half an hour; do you understand?” I ask her again. This time slowly, enunciating each word so she understands with great clarity, these are instructions I don’t have time for her to dwell on and configure. I need things to get done, like now.
Mother visibly takes in a deep breath before doing the right thing and nodding her understanding.
“Very good!” I take a step back and slam the door in her face, locking it at once.
There, one obstacle completed. Now that my ride is arranged, I need to choose an amazing outfit, one that will make his jaw drop and make him never want to have me out of his sight again. This also includes what my baby loves the most, and I’d find it all in my bottom right hand dresser drawer, which I conveniently keep supplied with brand new undergarments, at least ten new pieces a week at the very least. I didn’t know when I’d get the call to be at my darling’s service, and I know that he loves certain clothing items best suited for my shape; but that doesn’t even matter, because if he loves it, then so shall I…always.
Anyone who has a problem with that would have to deal with me. I don’t like it when people who don’t understand his passions make swift ridiculous judgments. They’d never understand because they don’t know what love is…and I do.
Chapter Five
*Marisa*
I am so hungry!
For the millionth time, I’m reminded of how hungry I really am.
My stomach grumbles loud enough that my sister stops in the middle of telling me about her school year so far and she bursts out laughing.
“Marisa, what was that?” Darcy laughs loudly, showcasing her invisible braces that she got just before I left for Toronto.
I pat my stomach in response and look at her sheepishly. “I’m so hungry, Darcy,” I murmur.
“Didn’t you eat something before coming? Or what about the appetizers? Fried shrimp; I saw it earlier, and you love shrimp!” Darcy says loudly.
Thanks, sis. Now I’m back to thinking about the shrimp appetizer I passed up when I first arrived inside. And on that note, I’ve been drinking a cranberry-vodka drink on an empty stomach. This is not good. I’m beginning to sway slowly from side–to-side.
My body is feeling warm all of a sudden. I don’t want to start sweating, especially in my fab dress. Getting drunk also means my senses won’t be as strong, and I need to be strong tonight. There is no way I’m conceding, even if Ben’s eyes still did that sexy twinkle thing that made my body want to just give in.
Don’t think about Ben, especially his sweet eyes. Lovely eyes. Just don’t.
Go back to thinking about food!
I’m starving. That’s right. That’s why I’m weak right now, weak and a little bit buzzed. I should not be drinking on an empty stomach; what is wrong with me?
The smell of savory tomato sauce and meat take control of the air around me. My eyes want to roll back, but I stop them by putting them to the task of finding the food that I smell.
Oh glorious food, where art thou! My eyes stop searching as I find the location of the food. Across the dance floor, in the corner of the room, I spot long rectangular tables with steam escaping the platters spread across them. Right beside the buffet sits my biggest problem: Ben’s table. Along with the rest of the people our age, Ben sits with his empty cup in front of him. He laughs loudly and his face turns red.
This is just great; another splendid way to make things even more awkward. There is no way I can get to the buffet tables without walking past his table; and I know if I do, I will become the subject of conversation at that table.
I don’t like to be stared at, especially from behind. I know he would stare at me, or even worse, come join me in line and make small talk. Maybe even try and win me back with his schmooze talk, thinking I’m the same girl just putting on a front for him.
I mean business, and this girl did change. I changed for the better and I’m not going back, no way, no how! I glance around the room as the partygoers get up and make their way to the buffet. There’s soon a line wrapped around the room.
Just great! Either I’ll have to wait for the line to die down, or take my chances and join, in hopes that it will be faster.
I need to make a choice now. The kids at this table are getting up; I’d stick out like a sore thumb at the table all by myself while everyone is waiting in line.
I do not want to stand out. I get up and smooth my dress down in the process. From this distance, I see Ben and the rest of his table get up at the same time. I follow Darcy across the dance floor. From the corner of my eye, I keep an eye on Ben, making sure that I won’t get stuck behind him, or him behind me. I’d slow down or hurry up in either case. Thankfully, Ben and his table join the line and a few other people quickly join behind him. That means I will be far enough away from him.
Thank God! I don’t know how long the line will take. The line is moving; the DJ begins a big-band track and I lean against the wall as Darcy and the rest of the kids grumble how hungry they are. I sneak a peek at Ben and his tablemates, careful not to seem like I’m staring.
Did he get taller? Did his shoulders grow wider? Has he been pumping iron? He fills out his jacket nicely, and unfortunately, looks really good.
Too good. In fact, if I wasn’t so hungry, I’d say mouth–watering. I quickly look away from his broadened shoulders in fear of combusting.
Imagine if he turned around and looked me dead in the eye. I think I would just grab him at that point, and take him to one of the empty banquet rooms to take care of business.
Oh God! Now I’m salivating for ex-boyfriend sex. Just great; I’m horny now. I suck in some air; hopefully, the oxygen will give my brain the clarity it needs to make the right choices.
I wait. The nerves don’t die down, and now I feel restless and annoyed that I have nothing to suppress these feelings. I’m low. Ben better not come near me; I don’t know if I have it in me not to pounce. I hold onto the wall behind me for support, moving along with the line. All of a sudden, my body feels tingly, and a memory from the past takes over my thoughts.
The last time we had sex.
****
“Hey Johnny!” a familiar voice says, interrupting the aftereffects of remembering the last time I had sex. Unfortunately for me, the familiar voice belongs to the person who just gave me an orgasm in my memory.
Ben.
What the hell does he want all the way over here?
I feel heat rush every pore of my face. Careful not to look up, my eyes are melting with lust. I can literally feel every emotion from that last time. Who knows what he’d take from that expression?
Maybe hope?
That would be conceding, even if my body welcomed a quick concede to dim down some of my restless nerves. I keep looking at the floor, waiting for Ben to leave.
This is going to be torture. My body sways to the right as Ben’s voice takes presence in my space.
“Johnny, don’t forget to take your pills,” Ben says to his brother.
“Dude, I know, you don’t have to remind me!” Johnny replies, exasperated, his voice clearly embarrassed from the call out.
Yeah Ben, he knows!
Why couldn’t he just text him or do a hand signal from his spot way ahead in the line? I mean, he didn’t have to leave his spot just to remind his brother of something he clearly didn’t need reminding of.
Maybe he just wanted an excuse to make eye contact with me?
Well, if that is the case, then he’s out of luck, because my vision is not going to leave the floor. The floor and I, we have a thing going. Focus.
“Alright, alright. Just, reminding you, little bro,” Ben says. A few seconds of stalling and I sense that he has turned back and headed toward his spot.
Thank God! I glance up quickly and find Darcy and Ben’s sister are staring at me with a knowing smile.
What?!
“Why are guys staring at me like that?” I narrow my eyes and look down at them. Give them a couple of years and I know I’ll soon be looking up at them.
I got the shit genes. I quickly glance at Cameron; just a normal big sister habit of checking on my siblings. That’s my first mistake. As I glance at my brother, who is in the direct line of sight of Ben, my ex just happens to turn his head right at the moment.
Great. He’s, going to think I’m staring at him, which I am now. His beautiful eyes take control over mine in an instant, and for a moment, I think I spot sadness.
Am I dreaming? Does he look sad? I blink away the spell he’s trying to cast and look away. It’s a good thing some of that heated memory has melted away, or else I’d have some explaining to do later when he thinks there could be something that isn’t there anymore.
There is nothing there anymore! I just have to keep reminding myself of that. Please, let me have the willpower to stand against him and not surrender.
Please, I’m calling on a higher power here; if you’re out there, give this girl here some mojo to be able to swing back at her cheating ex.
And I don’t care if it was just a kiss! I don’t care that he thinks I shouldn’t have made it out to be bigger than it was. And I especially don’t care that we were fighting that week, and things hadn’t been good in a while because I wasn’t pulling my end of the deal.