The Despair of Strangers

by Heather Topham Wood

  I needed someone because I feared the solitude. The loneliness made me think stupid thoughts like maybe I should call my family. Or worse yet, maybe I should talk to Jake and hear what he had to say. I was ashamed of my spinelessness. How many years did I suspect Jake was cheating on me and did absolutely nothing? If he hadn’t taken things a step too far, then would I still be with him? Would I be married for decades, still pretending that his infidelity was just a phase?

  I appreciated Jenny wanting to set me up and her reasoning made sense. I should date. The problem was I didn’t know who I was outside of being Jake’s fiancé and a Carmichael. I wasn’t sure how to be with anyone besides Jake.

  Instead of moping, I turned on my laptop and pulled up a career test I had taken the week before. Based on the results, my top career choices were social worker, nurse, teacher, and event manager. Although I had experience managing events, I couldn’t go backward. The other three jobs sounded like solid choices and I decided to put together an application for an online college. I wasn’t sure how I would afford tuition on my waitress salary, but my credit was good enough to qualify for loans.

  As I looked over the course selections online, I warmed up to the idea of pursuing a nursing degree. Programs online were accelerated and I could be done in two years. Even though I was switching careers, my communications degree from the University of Rochester could also possibly go toward my graduation requirements.

  Nursing would suit me. My favorite part of my charity work was meeting the people that the organizations actually benefited. I read at Christmas time to pediatric cancer patients and helped organize gift drives for the disabled. I understood nursing would be a lot more challenging, but maybe I would be good at the job. I needed a future that was my own, not plotted out against my will.

  I was writing out a rough draft of my college application essay when my phone rang at seven o’clock. Surprised, I answered on the third ring.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi,” D said in greeting, his deep masculine voice giving me that contented sensation once again.

  “You called.”

  “Didn’t you get my message?”

  “I did, but I wasn’t sure if you’d actually call,” I admitted.

  “Why?” He sounded genuinely surprised

  “Because I thought it was a blow-off text.”

  “I said last night we should talk again, but I was glad you texted me first. I work weird hours, so my schedule is unpredictable. I called as soon as I wrapped up.”

  “You don’t have to explain. This is…weird. I mean, why would you want to talk to a stranger about your love life from your fiancée’s old phone number? I would imagine it’s difficult to see Emily’s number even come up on your phone.”

  “Hold on a sec.”

  He had such a nice voice; I couldn’t even imagine hanging up on him as I waited for him to come back. I felt soothed by the rasp, the easy cadence of his words. While holding for him, I received a text message. Before I could check the message, he returned to the call. “I just sent you a picture.”

  I had a mini meltdown over his confession. Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough about the anonymous part. I didn’t want to see a photo of him because then it became real. Despite my hesitation, I went ahead and opened the message. I grinned as I saw a screenshot of my number with the assigned name “A Mystery.” He had changed Emily’s name in his contact list.

  “So, I’m A Mystery. That’s very clever.”

  He laughed. “Not my best work, but thought it was a fun play on words since your first name starts with A and you decided we should remain a mystery to one another.”

  “I don’t have anything clever for D off of the top of my head. I’ll let you know when I come up with something.” I was smiling as I twirled a strand of my hair in my fingertips.

  “So, your friend wants to set you up?”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “But I don’t think I’m ready. I was with Jake forever and we only broke up a month and a half ago. I know she’s trying to be nice, but I feel like the thought of dating makes me break out in hives.”

  “But maybe she has a point?” he asked gently. “You did say your ex cheated on you, so it might be good for you to date again.”

  “Even though he cheated on me, I was still with him for a very long time. I can’t turn those feelings off instantly. Plus, after the way he hurt me, I’m not sure I could trust again.”

  “True, but not every date has to mean something. Just think of it as a distraction to help you get over your ex.”

  “But you haven’t dated since Emily, right? Did you let your friends know you’re not ready?”

  “I did,” he hedged. “But I agreed last month.”

  “You went out on a date?” I couldn’t conceal my surprise. His messages seemed to leave no room for another woman in his life. Yet, maybe the messages were only one side of him. Maybe another side of him wanted to let her go. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  His laughter sounded mirthless. “Not particularly. The date went horrible.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was perfectly nice. On paper, she sounded like the ideal first date for me. She’s beautiful and very smart. Dinner actually went wonderful and we had a shared interest in Star Wars—”

  “Star Wars?” I snorted in disbelief. “I thought you were going to say something deep like you both were into Proust or modernist paintings.”

  “Star Wars is deep, thank you very much,” he said with mock offence.

  My belly hurt from trying to hold in the laughter. “Not knocking it, I like the movies too, but not what I expected to hear about on a date.”

  “Anyway, after we debated which movie was best and whether or not Ewoks were evil species, things became weird.”

  I couldn’t keep in the laughter a second longer. “After you had these discussions things became weird?”

  He laughed with me and I was warmed to my core over the sound. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to pretend I was talking to a real friend. With the exception of Jenny and Birdie, he’d be one of my first real friends, definitely the first male friend.

  He was sort of offbeat, making me like him more. I definitely didn’t fit any mold, so I liked not knowing what I could expect to come out of his mouth. I felt like we were connected, yet I had no idea about the stuff that normally seemed important in a friendship. I didn’t know his name, his age, his job, or even where he lived.

  “Well, yes, it was more like I started to feel strange,” he explained about his date. “Her hand reached for mine across the table and I felt guilty like I was cheating on Emily. Then, she made a suggestion about coming over to my house and the idea was too revolting for words. I came up with a completely terrible excuse about an early morning meeting and went right home. I sent Emily messages that night because it seemed impossible I could ever let her go and move on.”

  “Well, you’re right. You definitely aren’t ready to date then.” I bit down on my lip, unsure if I should push him about the messages. We established I read the texts, but I wasn’t sure if he was open to talking about them. “What you wrote to Emily…I’m trying to say that obviously what you had with her was special, probably irreplaceable. But I had concerns after reading your words, like maybe you had thoughts about hurting yourself.”

  He was quiet, making me question whether I pushed too hard, too soon. Despite feeling a bond to him over the last month, he only uncovered my existence a day earlier. Finally, he said, “I’m trying to think of the right way to explain my feelings in those moments. I wrote to her during the worst nights, after hours and hours of lying awake, trying everything possible to not think about what I lost. Maybe you could understand? Do you ever feel dragged under by the sadness? But other times, you’re fine, the pain is there, but less. The words you read were the most extreme versions of my actual feelings.”

  “I actually do get it,” I said kindly. “I’m glad you’re not always feeling that way. But
even if you only feel a fraction of those feelings, the date was probably not a good idea.”

  “So, you don’t think it was an asshole move to blow her off?”

  “No. If you weren’t feeling comfortable with your date, then you did the right thing. You wouldn’t want to lead her on when you’re not there yet.”

  “Sometimes, I’m not sure if I could ever get there.”

  “Maybe not,” I agreed. “But maybe you’ll wake up one morning and feel like Emily would want you happy and to find someone else. I won’t pretend to understand, though, and I think you should rely on your gut instinct. If you’re not comfortable with dating now, then hold off and don’t force it.”

  “You should force it, though,” he said pointedly.

  “I’m disappointed, I figured you’d work a Star Wars analogy in there.”

  “I’m serious,” he said, not taking my bait to distract him from persuading me to date. “How long was Jake cheating on you for?”

  “Longer than I want to admit.”

  “You can tell me everything.” And implausibly, I really wanted to confess everything to him, but even to a stranger, the humiliation was too much. I decided on a half-truth instead.

  “Probably since we started dating. He’d cancel plans last minute or receive texts late at night when we were together. After our engagement, we shared a bank account and there would be charges that couldn’t really be explained. He was having dinners at expensive restaurants and buying gifts that were not for me from women’s boutique stores.”

  “How did he explain it away?”

  I gulped down my shame. “He never had to explain it because I never asked. I compartmentalized and pretended like the truth didn’t matter. I assumed our relationship would change once we married. He would suddenly grow up and keep his vows to me.”

  “Why did you leave then?”

  “Because he was careless and after seven years of cheating figured he could flaunt his betrayal right in my face and I wouldn’t walk.”

  “You caught him with someone?”

  I tried to curb the urge to vomit up my dinner. I couldn’t let my brain return to that night, easier to pretend it was all just a bad dream. “Yes, and it was too much.”

  “So, you left that night?”

  “Not right away. But then he sent me a text telling me not to be stupid and we should talk. I emptied my savings account, packed a suitcase, and drove until I found a town I liked enough to start over.”

  “You just picked a random town?”

  “Yup and rented the first apartment I came across. It’s tiny and over a flower shop, but I absolutely love it. And I feel strong most of the time, like I finally put myself first. But then other times I feel completely lost.”

  “Leaving was the hardest part. The rest is cake.”

  A short time later, we hung up, but his words resonated inside of me for long after. Leaving had been hard, but I had done it. I left like a thief in the night, but the point was I had gotten out. And despite my moments of weakness, I was never going back again.

  Chapter Six

  Over the next week, D and I would share funny messages by text. I liked witnessing another side to him, a lighter side not wallowing in despair. After his texts to Emily, I never imagined he’d actually have a sense of humor. One morning, he sent me a meme of evil Ewoks and I responded with a cute photo of a dog dressed up as an Ewok. He also started a game where he tried to guess my name, but sent only outrageous picks such as Aurora Borealis and Anastasia Romanov. My guesses were Dawson Leery and Dante Alighieri for him.

  I was giggling down at my phone during a lunch break at work when Jenny fell into the seat across from me. “Who’re you messaging?”

  D had sent me a ridiculous meme about Baby Yoda and I was completely on a high over my friendship with him. The circumstances were surreal, but our phone relationship mattered to me.

  “Just a friend,” I answered, sliding the phone into my apron pocket.

  “Does this friend have a name?” she teased, fluttering her eyelashes.

  “You’re super nosy.”

  “Girl, you look so damn happy there must be a dude involved.”

  “No, seriously, I was just texting with a friend.”

  “Fine, but you will let me set you up soon.”

  Earlier in the week, I had admitted the reason I left Jake was his habitual cheating. As I expected out of her, Jenny didn’t call me out on not leaving him sooner. She came up with a hundred horrible curse words to call him instead and determined dating was essential to my emotional health.

  Instead of using Jake as my reason for not dating, I said, “I’m actually starting nursing school in the fall, so I’m not sure I want to start dating yet. Zeke messaged me the other night and I let him know the timing isn’t the best to go out with anyone new right now.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes, once again exasperated over my unwillingness to date. “You don’t have to marry him or any other losers we meet at the bar. Just let them get you off and move on.”

  “That may be a problem,” I said softly.

  She scrunched up her nose in confusion. The only reason she bothered going out was for a quick fix, a few hours of casual sex that left her satisfied until the next weekend. “Why?”

  “I don’t…get off easily.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Jake, I usually faked it.” I shrugged, attempting to act unfazed, although I hated talking about my sex life.

  “Holy shit, you’re kidding.”

  “No, but I’m sure it’s a common thing.” I wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead staring at my untouched chicken sandwich.

  “Umm, my ex-husband is a complete dickwad, but he still made sure I was pleasured first.” I lifted my head as she narrowed her eyes at me. “How often did you fake?”

  “Why are we friends again? Every time I tell you anything about my life, you look at me like a science experiment.”

  She gave a sympathetic smile, then patted my hand affectionately. “Girl, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You probably knew he was cheating and couldn’t get off because of it.”

  I pretended to rack my brain, but knew the answer immediately. Finally, I said, “Never.”

  “Never? As in you never had an orgasm with your ex?” she screeched.

  “Yes.”

  “Holy fuck, if that isn’t the saddest thing I ever heard.”

  “Shut up, please.” I wanted to lay blame on Jake for my lack of orgasms, tell her how he only took and took without ever giving back. But I had issues, a brain that never shut off long enough to relax and let myself get swept away either in the moment. I was more at ease alone, getting off without the constant worry of how I looked or if I was making Jake feel good.

  Jenny’s eyes widened as she stared at me in disbelief. “You’re beyond repressed. You’re like those women in the middle ages who were forced to wear chastity belts.”

  “Thanks,” I said with bite before picking my sandwich up again. The food roiled in my belly, the nausea likely from revisiting my sex life with Jake.

  “Well, your ex is even worse than I thought. Years of faking and he never noticed? I bet my ass he didn’t care enough to make sure you were enjoying sex.”

  “I should’ve said something.”

  “Yes, but you’ll get stronger now that you’re done with him. Men mind fuck us so bad we convince ourselves they’re doing us a favor by choosing to marry us. Just make sure you record yourself when you actually have a real orgasm and send it to that ass clown.”

  I laughed at the thought. “Thanks. And although I’m not going to date yet, I’m all for a girls’ night.”

  “Absolutely. We’ll have an anti-men themed night. We won’t shave our legs, drink wine straight from the bottle, and watch movies like Pitch Perfect.” I brightened at her suggestion because she had no idea how much I always wanted a friend like her. My life would’ve maybe turned out very different if I had someone like Jenny in my corner
. Someone who hadn’t told me to stay, but to run, run far and fast.

  “Jake hates Pitch Perfect.”

  “Then, we’ll watch it and all the sequels.”

  ***

  On Saturday night, D called me again. “Hi,” I chirped happily as I set down the book I was reading on my nightstand.

  My mood was upbeat, the first weekend post-breakup I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself. Before, Jake and I normally had dinner on Saturday with my parents before meeting up with the “briefs bandits” as he called his lawyer friends and their wives. The wives were never unkind to my face, but I felt a disdain in their stares. Jake’s infidelities were likely notorious and I was the idiot in their eyes who put up with his bullshit. My money and last name forced them to accept me, but I wasn’t wanted by any of them. I held onto the elated feeling I’d never have to pretend for any of them again.

  “Fuck, I hate the weekends.” My smile slipped at D’s sour and slurring tone. His messages had been sweet during the week, making me feel better about my new life. Apparently, my messages hadn’t the same effect on him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  “I feel like the entire world is with someone on the weekends, someone they love, and I’m here alone in this fucking empty, miserable house.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I knew he had darkness inside of him. I hadn’t erased or forgotten his messages to Emily. His pain was raw and scary, probably beyond my understanding. He had helped me, but I was nursing a broken heart from a cheating scumbag, not grieving the death of the love of my life.

  “I’m not with anyone.” Saying I was alone didn’t feel as bad anymore. What was so wonderful about being surrounded by the empty people I had in my life before? Curling up in my own bed with a good novel sounded a thousand times better than being in Jake’s company.