Dear Anna
Page 6
“Oh, much better. I found lots to do. I took myself on a walk in the fresh air. Cleared my head.” I watch him sit in his chair across from me.
“Good. It sounds like those pills are helping. Isn’t your follow-up appointment tomorrow?” John asks as he dips his spoon into the chicken noodle soup before him.
“Yes, it’s at night actually, so I won’t be home to have my evening with you.” I fake a pouty face, to not lead on that I intentionally made the appointment late so that I could have an excuse not to be cooped up in this house with John all night. It hasn’t been very long since finding out his dirty secret, but it’s been incredibly exhausting to play along, and I need a break.
“Oh, that’s all right, honey. I have a few late business meetings tomorrow. I won’t be home for dinner. I told Hannah not to worry about making our stuff tomorrow.” Thanks for making sure that I eat dinner, John.
“You work so hard, my dear.” I bite into the chicken noodle soup. Hannah has added some turnips and other odd vegetables, making the simple food tolerable to the rich. It’s nauseating.
“Well, someone has to fund our family.” He challenges.
I grip my spoon longing for it to be a knife.
Medeia’s Journal
Dear Anna,
Where does he meet you?
Eleven
I walk the hallway to my husband’s office and lean on the doorframe. The drawers on the desk are locked to the outside world unless you have the key. I paid close attention to where John put it last night. Now, it weighs a ton in my palm. We keep what’s precious but also what’s most damaging to us under lock and key. The lawyer did tell me to get proof.
I open the middle drawer and find the usual writing utensils and some highlighters. A few business cards, no one of importance, so I close it. The side drawer holds only gin and Twinkies. Funny, he’s allowed Twinkies and I can’t even eat a single cookie without a disgusted look thrown my direction. The next drawer down has a few scattered folders; I dig through and find that most are just business proposals from companies. There is one folder buried deep and not haphazardly thrown inside. I carefully extract it from underneath the pile.
It says “A” on it, the only indication of what’s inside. I feel my throat closing. I open it to find polaroid pictures of Anna straddling John’s desk in suggestive positions and barely-there lingerie.
“Yuck.” I throw the folder back in the drawer, longing to scrub my eyes with bleach.
John’s iPad sits on top of the paper in the next drawer. I know the code, so it’s easy to access the secrets inside. This is his personal one, not meant for work, so why would he lock it away. I quickly punch in the lock screen pin and open the emails. I don’t want to risk clicking on photos after what I have just seen.
A few emails to therapists asking about several mental illnesses catch my eye. Why would John feel the need to write these doctors and ask about so many illnesses in great detail? There’s nothing more in the inbox, but when I scan the folders, I find another one titled “A.” I gulp down a bit of John’s gin before I open the first one.
Dear John,
That sounds silly, doesn’t it? Because I’m not writing to break anything off with you but to invite you to a hotel later. I’d invite you to my apartment but my roommate is so nosey, and I don’t plan on being quiet. xoxo Anna
Dear John,
If I were your wife, you’d never be bored with sex positions. ;) xoxo Anna
Dear John,
Last night was amazing. Please don’t worry about the space, and the warehouse was beautiful. It is something that is only ours now. Imagine the number of people who have used those same hotel rooms. Not as romantic as having our own place. Just you and I, as it should be. See you tonight, babe. xoxo Anna
Warehouse? I throw the iPad on the desk and scratch my head. Warehouse? What warehouse?
No. No. No. No.
John Moore, you took your slut to the place you bought me as a wedding present? I punch the top of the desk and close everything up. I bolt from the seat, fetching the keys off the foyer table as I slam the front door closed. I put the car into reverse and peel out of the driveway, heading to a place I know well but don’t go to anymore because it symbolizes lost dreams to me.
On the street in an old part of town sits a gorgeous steel building set back from all the others. It has an invitation-only feel to it. Something that makes you take a second look when driving by, and long for access to see inside. It did when I first saw it. Back then I was taking classes to become a real estate agent. When I wanted John to buy the warehouse for me to open a business inside, he agreed without hesitation.
A pretty picture of a devoted fiancé doing the most for his future bride. We were already married when I went to take the final exam and graduated from my courses, and that’s when he pulled the trick that he felt I was saying he couldn’t provide for us, that I was taking away his right as a man to take care of me. I swooned like an idiot. I was raised on the streets, fighting for survival because my father didn’t think it was his job to feed us, then there was a man saying he wanted to do it for me. Swooned. I allowed the dream of having my own business be ripped out of my hands. The warehouse key consistently felt like a dead weight on my keyring from then on.
I slow the car down to pull into the parking lot and dodge the potholes. Like the haunted voices of forgotten dreams, the building brings the memories crashing around me.
“It’s perfect, John. I’ll put a receptionist area in here. A large L-shaped desk.” I point out the area near the front entrance, and John laughs. “What?”
“Nothing, you’re just so cute when you’re excited. I can’t see your vision, but I know you will do great.” He comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my middle and lays his chin on my shoulder. “So, do you like it?”
“I love it!” I squeal and lean back into him.
“Happy wedding present.” He kisses the side of my face. “To you and me, forever.” He tickles my middle, and I run off with him trailing behind.
My key turns the lock, and I walk inside, no longer seeing that imaginary L-shaped receptionist desk. In its place are boxes piled up for John’s company. This has become his storage space, and his crap is sitting in something that was mine.
The bottom floor is a section saved only for John; there isn’t a trace of me left in here. Even my certificate of completion on the wall is unseen due to the boxes stacked in front of it. There’s a second floor that only takes up half the space. Instead of a loft-like feeling, there are walls closing it off to view from down here. It was meant to be my office. I climb the stairs.
On the final step, I smell the cheap perfume and deceit. Dammit, I’m right. I bow my head. There are boxes along the windows, lining the space like a tunnel so that it isn’t viewable from the outside. And as I walk around the bend of the first wall of boxes, I see it. A mattress laid out on the floor, disheveled covers tossed about, and the fitted sheet is only on three corners. I walk closer and see condom wrappers strewn about — classy, John. There are empty bottles of wine everywhere; a forgotten bra hangs from the corner of one of the highest boxes─ classy, Anna.
A piece of paper juts out from under a cardboard box serving as a makeshift table. It's the only one that doesn’t have two others stacked on top of it, maybe because there is only a wall behind and no windows to see the lovers through here. I squat down to view the drawing on it.
A heart with the initials A.T. & J.M. Cute. I pull myself up and feel lightheaded. I want to puke. I dart down the stairs and out the front door, then to the back of the building where a small patch of woods lays before the river. I bend my body in half and take deep breaths until the feeling passes.
We were once in love, John and I, I still felt it in those rare times when we smile at each other and share a secret moment. It’s not farfetched to believe that there was once a human underneath his cold and calculating mannerisms.
“I love you, Medeia.”
“I love how moldable you are.”
“What?” I scrunch up my nose.
“No. No. It’s not a bad thing. I think it’s a strength of yours. You are willing to change and adapt for this better life. You’re better than where you came from.”
What a load of crap. He traded my strength and made it my weakness.
Love isn’t enough. I thought it when I was younger that my teenage years were filled with the notion. Love doesn’t mean you need to stay. Love doesn’t always mean it’s right. If love is without respect, if you are trading in parts of yourself to fit in alongside the person that you’re in love with, then it isn’t true love. It’s merely an affection of the heart, not a love for the soul.
I lock the front door and gaze upon the building that once held such a promising future. It contains the part of my old life’s demise now. I put the car in drive and head to my job, my new life, and drive away from the past that holds nothing for me.
Twelve
“And they’re completely wireless?” I ask the man behind the counter. He looks so unkept and much like the kind of creeper who would install these cameras inside a lady’s shower.
“Yeah. You need to make sure they’re either charged or have batteries; then they’re good to go.” He holds a box up to double check and does an overindulgent head-bob when he is satisfied that the information that he gave me is correct.
“I’ll take them, and I’m going to need some batteries, too.” I stopped on my way home and bought some wireless cameras that I found in one of the books I was stocking today. They should work perfectly for catching my husband’s show, and proof of the affair for the lawyer. I was going to come with substantial evidence next time.
I head straight to the warehouse to install them. I can’t wait until tomorrow, even if this is cutting it close to the time that John leaves work. I want to see them tonight. I need to see this with my own two eyes. There are so many ways that John could talk himself out of the restaurant scene, but naked on top of his secretary is a hard corner to get out of.
Parking my car a street away, I use the walk to the warehouse to settle my nerves. I come around the back of the building and come in through the back-door entrance. Boxes are stacked everywhere, and it’s a tight squeeze to shuffle past, but these boxes are going to make excellent hiding spaces for my cameras. I dart up the stairs and start unpackaging the cameras and putting the batteries in. I place the first one near their love nest, prime number one spot.
I use my phone to sync the camera with the app. Perfect. I throw the trash back into the shopping bag and take out the next camera, pointing it toward the staircase. I want to be able to see them coming and going. I find a stack of boxes near the small railing, and I sneak the penny-sized camera in the cracks.
After syncing it up, I throw the trash into the bag. I’m on the third step when I hear the front door opening.
“Shit.” I hiss. I dart back to the top of the stairs and squeeze my body between the boxes surrounding their love nest and the windows outside. I push myself back into the corner and out of sight.
Anna’s giggling echoes up the stairs and floods the landing.
“John. Stop.”
“You know you don’t want me to stop.” He growls, and I hear them fumbling up the steps in between sloppy, slurpy kisses. Gross.
The heat escalates up my neck, and I yank at the collar of my shirt threatening to strangle my breath. Fuck. How did I get myself stuck here? What am I going to do? I click my cell phone to silent because I can’t afford to make any noises. I hit the camera app open and choose the one facing the mattress.
They’re stripping their clothes off in front of each other and smiling. I screenshot the picture. That should be enough. Except, I don’t close the app ─ I can’t look away. Anna moans loudly and begs for John to open the wine. He pops the cork on the wine bottle between them, pouring the contents into glasses he brought, and they drink while laughing.
“I wanted to fuck you all day. What did I tell you about that lacy underwear of yours?”
“Hmm, I don’t recall.” She’s playing coy and willing him to come to her.
“When you wear them, you’re going to get fucked.” He dominates over her, pushing his forehead against hers. “Hard.” My throat closes, and the room starts growing small around me. Oh god. I’m going to have a panic attack right now, next to my husband and his mistress screwing. No. No.
The anxiety does nothing to stop the attack, and I squeeze myself tight, wrapping my arms around my body as hard as I can. I need to try and calm my central nervous system down. Tight pressure. Tight pressure.
“Oh, Anna. You’re so tight.” A tear rolls down my cheek as I squeeze my body tight in an embrace. No. Make it stop.
Someone hears my prayers because the grunts end in a climax to rival the worst porno movies. John and Anna lay together cuddling for another half hour before they leave and I’m free to do the same. I stumble out of the back of the building and hit my knees.
How could he do this to me?
Thirteen
Maggie has me searching for a few titles that are new clearance today; it feels like a bogus mission. They’re nowhere to be found. Still, I welcome the distraction from the hell that was my evening yesterday playing over in my mind. I texted John and told him I wouldn’t be home for dinner because I needed to get a manicure. He bought it. I strolled along the shops aimlessly not wanting to go home and face the liar that shares my bed.
The store is dead quiet today and not having to deal with customers is a welcome blessing: nothing but a low alternative rock song playing over the speakers drowning out my thoughts.
“Tommy, I don’t want to be here.” I hear the whining of a girl as soon as the front door opens.
“Okay, Annie.” The man has an edge to his voice, and I wonder if they’ll be choosing the store for their fight today. I hear their feet around the L-shaped aisleway that I’m in. I’m stuck in the corner, and I keep my back to them, hoping to hear someone else’s drama for once.
“I hate that name.” She bites back and stomps out of the aisle.
“I hate being called Tommy.” He quips back.
“Fine.” She pouts from the next aisle. “I still don’t want to be here.”
“We’ll be quick. I promise, Anna.” He leaves the aisle as the hairs on my neck rise at the name he mentioned. It can’t be. I made sure that this job was an hour away so that John couldn’t find me. And Anna at a bookstore? Impossible.
I move closer to the end of the aisle and wait until the exit the aisle they’re in before I risk a look at her.
Shit.
Another day of hiding from Anna and her ─ wait a second. Does Anna have a boyfriend? That slut! They’re in the middle of the floor ducking through the middle aisles and looking intently for something.
“Jesus, Thomas. Just ask someone.” I watch through the endcap display as Anna points my way. Shit. He doesn’t listen to her and heads off for another aisle. She trails behind reluctantly.
I beat it across the sales floor as fast as I can to the cookbooks where I can easily make my exit to the bathrooms and come out when the coast is clear.
“Oh Medeia, I need your help.”
“Shh. Shh. Carol, don’t say my name?” I hold my finger to my mouth and grab Carol’s shoulder with the other.
“What? Why?” I’ll give her points for knowing to keep her voice low.
“There’s someone who works here over there, Thomas. I heard them say her name.” Anna shouts.
“Just switch me nametags. Quick.” I tell Carol as I yank my lanyard up over my hand and shove it at her.
“What?” She’s confused.
“I’ll buy you whatever you want; just take my name tag.”
“Uhh ─ okay.” Carol glides her lanyard up around her head as I motion with my hands
for her to hurry up. I put it on over my head and take off behind Carol to the little nook of books near the bathroom.
“Be me,” I whisper back at her baffled reflection before I duck behind the books for safety.
“I swear I heard someone’s name I know.” The volume in Anna’s voice grows as she moves in on Carol. Please, don’t fail me, Carol.
“Hello, may I help you?”
“What’s your name?” Anna demands.
“Medeia.” A sigh of relief leaves my body when my ears hear Carol’s sweet lie past her lips.
“Medeia? That’s a unique name.” Anna is grilling her.
“Not really. You’d be surprised. Is there something I can help you find today?”
“My boyfriend is looking for a Julia something cookbook. It’s supposed to be famous or something.”
“Julia Child.” Thomas and Carol both correct her at the same time.
“Whatever.” Anna sounds annoyed.
“It’s right back this way on the back shelf I believe.” Carol is raising her voice a slight octave, signaling to me that she is walking my way. I move around to the next aisle.
“Perfect. Thank you so much.” Thomas exclaims.
“No problem. Is there anything else that I can help you find today?”
“No. This book is what I wanted. Thank you.” Thomas sounds polite. What is he doing with Anna?
“Let’s go, Thomas.” Anna stomps off toward the registers.
“Thanks for your help. I’m sorry about her mood. She’s upset today.”
“Understood.” Carol waves him off.
I hear Maggie greeting Anna at the registers so I know I’m almost in the clear. Carol rounds the bend looking for me.
“Boy, that blonde had a hard-on looking for you. She wouldn’t keep her head still.” Carol chuckles as she pulls my lanyard off her neck to give back to me. I mirror the same movement.