One Week Hating You

by Roya Carmen

“Well, she’s made him suffer, made him pay for his mistake, and got to have a little fun with the high school hottie,” Corrie argues. “Now she can settle down and get what she’s always wanted. She can get back to her life.”

  Corrie knows me well. She knows that all I’ve ever wanted was a house, a faithful husband and cute kids. It seems simple, but I’ve never been a very complicated girl. I’m pretty easy to please.

  “I don’t know,” Kayla says. “I’m on the fence. Does Peter love her enough? I mean, the man ran away on their wedding day… that’s pretty telling. Is he ready for commitment? If he’s not, he’ll be miserable, and so will she.”

  “Love…” Corrie sighs. “I think you’ve read too many romance novels, Kayla. Love is overrated.”

  I feel bad for Corrie. She’s so jaded and lost. First there was her separation, and then Jacob’s accident. Her life has become so complicated. These past months, she’s done nothing but try to find herself and figure out her life. All she wants is a simple life. And she probably sees that opportunity for me and wants me to jump at it.

  “Love is the most amazing thing in life,” Gabbie says. She’s been quiet, but she lights up when she says, “It’d be a shame to let it pass by.”

  I’m not exactly sure what she’s getting at.

  “This Blake… was it really just a fling?” she asks. “Or something more?”

  “Oh, come on. She can’t trash a long-term relationship for some player who likes to fuck woman over freezers and against doors,” Corrie scoffs. “No matter how fucking hot he is.”

  Her words sting, and that surprises me. I want to tell her that Blake is much more than that.

  “Well, if he’s the one who owns her heart, she should,” Gabbie says. “After all, I left a marriage for love, and there were two children involved. And I’ve never regretted it, not for a single second. I’m going through a divorce right now, and she’s not even married, no kids.”

  “Well, Eli is one of a kind,” Corrie argues. “And John cheated on you.”

  “Yes, but maybe John and I shouldn’t have been married in the first place,” Gabbie argues.

  “But then you wouldn’t have Emma and Theo,” Corrie points out.

  To this, Gabriella has no retort.

  “You can’t expect her to change her whole life and move back to her hometown?” Corrie goes on, determined to not let this go.

  “Why not?” she says. “Eli changed his whole life for me,” she points out. “Moved across an ocean.”

  Corrie throws her head back, and her eyes roll to the ceiling. “Yes, yes. We’ve heard it a thousand times. The whole romantic ‘he moved across an ocean to be with me,’ and he’s so damn hot and amazing in bed, and he can cook too—”

  “Enough,” Kayla scolds. “Enough quibbling, ladies.”

  Kayla, always the voice of reason. I really want to hear what she has to say.

  “What do you think, Kayla?”

  She ponders me for a second before speaking. “Well, I agree with Gabbie,” she says. “Whoever loves you the most deserves you. Does Peter really love you enough to commit? Was it just a hook-up with Blake, or does he have deeper feelings?” She traces a finger around the rim of her cup of tea. “I also agree with Corrie. What life do you want? Do you want to have a career, live in a condo, and be here with us in the city? Or do you want to live the small town life, and be with your family?”

  I don’t know. I just don’t know. I wish I knew.

  32

  “HOW’S YOUR JOB SEARCH GOING?” Kayla asks. “Any luck?”

  I beam. “Well, actually, there were two promising positions I applied for. I think I might have a shot.”

  Gabbie smiles, excited for me. “Tell us about them.”

  I reach for my mug. “Well, one is a Store Manager for a women’s clothing store, right here in Burlington.”

  “That’s perfect,” says Kayla.

  “And the other job is for a buyer for Macy’s,” I say, not quite able to rein in my excitement. “For their children’s department.”

  “Wow,” Gabbie says.

  “The only thing is… it’s in Chicago.”

  “Chicago!” Corrie exclaims. “You’re not going to leave us, are you?”

  “Well, I don’t want to, but…”

  “Well, I think you should do whatever makes you happy, what fulfills you,” Gabbie chimes in.

  Kayla reaches for a cookie. “I agree.”

  “Life is too short to be unhappy,” Gabbie says.

  Gabbie has changed so much this past year. Stuck in a loveless marriage, she was never truly content, and I don’t think she even realized that she was unhappy. Life is like that sometimes.

  Am I happy? Was I happy with Peter? Was I happy with Blake? All we did was fight. Am I happy here?

  “We all know you’re very happy with your prince charming, Gabs,” Corrie smirks. “And we’re all very jealous.”

  Gabbie laughs. “Well…” she says. “You wouldn’t have been envious of me an hour ago when I was hugging my toilet, vomiting, and you certainly won’t be jealous of me when I get really fat.”

  We all stare at her, speechless.

  “What?” Kayla finally manages. “Are you pregnant?”

  Gabbie beams, and I can tell that she’s over the moon. “Yes.”

  “Oh wow, that’s such amazing news.” Kayla gives her a big hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

  I’m too stunned to talk. I shoot a quick glance in Corrie’s direction, knowing that this might be hard for her, since she’s had such trouble conceiving. It was, in fact, one of the main reasons she and Jacob split. She’s speechless too, but she’s smiling – it looks forced, but not in that fake-ish way. It’s the smile of a woman who is truly happy for her friend, but also sad for herself. She springs from her seat and hugs Gabbie.

  I go in for a hug too, still trying to process all this. Gabbie’s been through this already – she already has two perfect kids. And now, she’s doing it all over again. Crazy. “Congrats, Gabbie,” I say because I know this is good news.

  “How far along?” Kayla asks.

  “Just six weeks,” Gabbie says, all smiles. “I’ve just found out. A few days ago.”

  “And you’ve been feeling okay?” Kayla asks.

  “Yes, except for the morning sickness,” she says. “I’m feeling really good.”

  “What does Eli think about all this?” Corrie asks.

  Gabbie fiddles with her notebook. “Well, it was a complete shock. We weren’t even trying, but he’s thrilled. We haven’t told the kids yet or anyone else. We want to wait until the twelve week mark.”

  “So you don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

  “We plan on keeping it a surprise,” she tells us. “It’s more fun that way.”

  “I wonder what John will think about all this?” Corrie says. John is Gabbie’s ex, and Corrie loves all the drama between him and Gabbie.

  “He’ll probably be cool with it,” Gabbie tells her.

  “Wow,” I chime in. “And here I thought my life was crazy.”

  “Everyone’s life is crazy, sweetie,” Corrie says. “That’s what’s so fun.”

  * * *

  I’m still reeling from Gabbie’s news as I drive back home. I can’t believe she’s pregnant. If I had to guess who would be the next one out of the four of us to pop out a kid, I would have guessed me, but a lot has changed these past weeks. Now, I wonder if I’ll ever have children. I always thought I would, but my twenty-eighth birthday is coming soon, and I don’t know if this will work out with Peter. I might be in Chicago, focusing on my career. I might not find someone else.

  I’ve always wanted kids. I was one of those girls who played with dolls. I had five of them and played with them constantly. I had all the accessories too; a stroller, a high chair, a crib, bottles, diapers, and clothing. I loved to play ‘Mommy & Baby’ while Tim played with his Hot Wheels and Marilyn played secretary with Momma’s old typewriter. She’d
dress up, slip on Momma’s heels, and sit at the typewriter with an air of superiority. Somehow, Marilyn is the one with two kids now, and I’m the one who’s single and childless, who wears fancy skirts and pumps. Well, at least, Tim is still playing with cars.

  I check my phone for the millionth time. My heart sinks every time I do. No replies to my job applications, no messages from Blake. I’m not sure which depresses me more. What did I expect? Did I expect Blake to send me sweet texts with little hearts and happy faces? I miss you. No, that’s more Peter’s style.

  So we had sex. It was fun, but now it’s over. Did it mean as much to him as it did to me? I doubt it. I’m sure he’s already moved on with someone else. He’s probably having sex right now.

  I look at all the pictures of us, yet again. In the first one we took, I’m draped over him like a cheap tablecloth, looking kind of amazing in my leather mini skirt, hooker heels and smoky eyes. I smile as I study the candid shots I’ve taken of us and the kids camping; s’mores, hiking, walking on the beach, and messing around in the camper. I also love the photos from our hike at the Inn, when we were riding the tree horse and goofing around. We look so good together, so happy. I love his smile – always have. I love the way it almost reaches his ears, a wide irresistible grin. It was just a week, an amazing week, but I’ll always have these photos. I’ll miss him forever, like I always have, but now I have even more pictures of the two of us together, more memories.

  33

  I CAN’T BELIEVE how nervous I am. It’s just Peter, for crying out loud. We’ve been on about a million dates. I touch up my lipstick; MacIntosh apple red, chosen to match my dress, the one Peter really likes. I’ve spent ages on my hair because I know he likes it styled and smooth. I don’t know why I’m trying so hard. I guess I still want him to think I’m pretty. As strong and independent as I consider myself, I’m just a girl, who wants the boy to like her.

  I peruse my closet. Some of Peter’s shirts and pants still hang on the left side. There are quite a few items of clothing missing; his favorite pieces. My shoes are lined on low shelves on my side of the closet. I debate between the Mary Jane black pumps or the tall Louboutins Peter got me. The red soles of the Louboutins would go perfectly with the dress, and they’re much sexier. I want to be sexy tonight.

  * * *

  He looks good. He has his best suit on, and the checkered shirt I love. His hair is perfectly styled, and he has just the perfect amount of five o-clock shadow. His eyes sparkle, as always.

  He still makes my heart skip a little.

  Just a little.

  “So sorry, I’m late,” I apologize as soon as I near closer.

  “It’s okay,” he says with a teasing grin. “I’m surprised though. You’re never late.”

  I bite my lip. “I got lost,” I admit.

  He laughs and touches my forearm lightly. “I’m sorry. I should have given you better directions.”

  The hostess welcomes us and leads us to our seats, by the window, in the far back. The restaurant is gorgeous. Huge light fixtures hang from the ceiling; they look like giant bubbles, the kind kids blow on lazy summer afternoons. The chairs are all sleek teak and black leather upholstery, and the tables are covered in dark red linens. The mood is dark and sexy.

  Clever boy, my Peter.

  I still think of him as mine. I can’t help it. We were together for so long.

  It’s a Wednesday night, and the place is quiet, which only adds to the dark, romantic mood. Peter and I have been out like this hundreds of times, but it feels so different tonight. It feels like a first date. I tug at the hem of my dress and I can’t quite look at him, just like ages ago, when we actually were on our first date. That was so long ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

  “How have you been?” he asks.

  “I’ve been good.” I smile at the server who pours us two glasses of water. “Thank you.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad to hear that,” he says, “After what I’ve…” His words trail off. He can’t say it out loud.

  Say it out loud, I want to scream.

  I left you at the altar and broke your heart! Smashed it into a million pieces!

  He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I’ve kind of been stalking you on Facebook,” he says. “You and Blake are friends again, I guess.”

  I smile. I’m feeling bold. “You want to know if we fucked, don’t you?” I ask. “You’re dying to know.” I slap a hand to my mouth, shocked by my own words. I think I’ve spent too much time with Corrie lately. Or it could possibly be the lingering anger.

  His mouth hangs open and when he finally manages to close it again, he smiles. “Well, yeah, to be honest, I am.”

  “Hello again.” Another server appears. “How are you two tonight?” she asks cheerfully, completely oblivious.

  Peter is not impressed with her timing, but he shoots her a tight smile. “Good, thank you.”

  “I’m Katrina, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” she goes on, a hint of a southern accent. “Do you already know what you’re all having?”

  We both stare down at our menus, both unopened.

  “That’s all right,” she says. “I’ll give you a minute.”

  And she’s gone, as quickly as she appeared.

  I reach for my menu and flip it open. “We should really pick our entrées.”

  “So did you?” he asks in a whisper. “Fuck him?”

  I don’t look at him when I nod yes. I’m staring at the list of appetizers, but I don’t take any of them in. All I can think about is Blake; his kiss, his touch, the two of us bent over the old freezer, on the swing, pressed against the old door, in the big comfy bed, and in the soaker tub – erotic images flood my brain. Yes, we fucked all right. More than once.

  When I finally glance up, Peter looks devastated. “Figures,” he says. “You two always had unfinished business. I guess you finally got to see what it would be like with him.”

  “I guess,” I say, my voice small. Now I feel bad for Peter.

  “I deserve that, I guess,” he says.

  He doesn’t ask how it was, and I’m glad. He probably suspects it was great, and doesn’t want confirmation. I could never lie to Peter. If he were to ask, I’d have to admit that it was amazing, that it blew the sex we have out of the water.

  But there’s more than amazing sex in life.

  He opens his menu quietly and gets lost in the choices. “The risotto is good,” he says. “I always have the veal and capers… it’s amazing.”

  Peter’s been here many times with colleagues – this place is close to his work. I’ve never been, and when we first talked about having dinner, I’d told him that I wanted to try something new. A new restaurant for a new start, I suppose. So far, I’m impressed with the atmosphere. We’ll have to see about the food.

  “Maybe I’ll try the veal and risotto then,” I say. Honestly, my brain is so foggy tonight, too blurred to make even the smallest decisions, like what to have for dinner.

  “Great choice,” he says. He’s still not looking at me. He’s upset. I don’t blame him at all. If he’d just told me that he’d slept with his first love, I wouldn’t be too impressed either.

  “So Gabbie is pregnant,” I tell him, shifting the conversation. “Oh… I’m not sure if I was supposed to tell. Keep it between us, okay? She’s only at six weeks.”

  His gaze darts up. “Really?” he says, a huge grin stretched across his face. “That’s awesome. I really like that Eli guy.”

  Yes, the both of them had gotten along famously when I first introduced them, both of them sharing a passion for architecture. Eli seems like one of those guys who gets along with everyone. So is Peter, in fact.

  “Yes, it’s pretty exciting,” I unfold my linen napkin and stretch it over my thighs. “I would have thought I’d be the next one to have a kid, but life has a way of surprising you, doesn’t it?” I say with just a hint of cynicism.

  “It does,” he says, clue
less. I think he’s already forgotten what he’s done to me. “Maybe you’ll be next,” he adds with a smile.

  I’m taken by surprise. “Really?”

  “Why not?” he says. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I know I freaked out a bit, and I still regret that every day, but we’re both going to be thirty soon, and kids…” his words trail off. “I love kids.”

  I know he does. I’ve seen him with his niece and nephew. My fickle heart swells at the thought of the two of us with little ones.

  Katrina is back with her notepad. “So, what will it be for the lovebirds?”

  We smile up at her, and Peter gives her both our orders, like he always does. He’s always been a take-charge type.

  We chat about my family and what everyone is up to. I don’t mention Blake. I don’t want to add salt to the wound – I’m not that vindictive. I think he’s suffered enough now, with all that silly Facebook business. It’s time for me to grow up. I tell him all about Corrie’s husband’s motorcycle accident instead.

  “Wow, I’ve missed a lot.”

  Katrina arrives with our meals and sets them down with a smile. It smells delicious, and my stomach growls in anticipation – I’ve always loved food. I limit myself a bit because I like the way my clothes fit when I’m a little thinner, and I know Peter likes me that way too. I was going to wear my favorite blue dress tonight, the one that makes me feel like a million bucks, but it was a little too tight. I blame it on Momma’s tasty home cooking. “I guess we’re not the only ones with exciting lives,” I joke.

  “Enjoy!” Katrina says, and quickly leaves us.

  My mouth waters as I lift my fork over my plate, ready to dig in.

  Something’s wrong.

  Something with the risotto. That familiar smell assaults my senses, that very specific scent that makes me sick. Mushrooms.

  “Are there mushrooms in this?” I ask, flabbergasted.

  His eyes grow wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

  “How could you? You know I’m allergic to mushrooms. How could you recommend this?” I scoff. “What?! We’ve only been together seven years! What’s wrong with you?”