Acts of Desperation(4)

“Look…I didn’t think you’d be home this early,” he said.

I took a deep breath and gathered my composure. “You didn’t think I’d be home this early? Did you just say that? I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong.” I waited for a response while he threw on his crumpled clothes, but he said nothing. “How about I’m sorry? That’s where I’d start if I were you.”

He sat on the couch and groaned. “It didn’t mean anything. She works for the account we’re trying to win. I had to do it.”

“You had to have sex with another woman?” I stared in disbelief.

“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” he said, shaking his head.

Any words I could have said, planted themselves firmly in my throat. I felt like I was in a trance, watching someone else’s life. My feelings were all over the place: rage, regret, fury, and despair. Each one simultaneously meshed together then separated; it was overwhelming. I silently turned and walked to our bedroom with him following closely behind.

“Leave me alone,” I said. “You should go.”

“What?” he said.

I walked past him and reached into the closet. “Here. Take your suitcase, put some of your stuff in here, and get out. I’m going to pack up all my things. I don’t need you hovering over me.” I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I envisioned breaking into a full sprint, running for my car, escaping the madness and misery, but once I was gone, I never wanted to come back to this place. So, I kept my cool. I said, “This is your condo, not mine. You live here, and I don’t anymore.”

He only crossed his arms and stood motionless. I threw his suitcase on the bed and started grabbing random things off the floor. Tears filled my eyes as he watched, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I grabbed his laundry basket, dumped it into his suitcase, zipped it up and thrust it at him.

“Here! Call your girlfriend. Maybe you can stay with her for a while.”

“Sember, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little. Come on,” he said with a sigh.

“I have absolutely nothing to say to you. Get. Out!”

“You know what—fine! You obviously need some time to cool off, but this isn’t over,” he said, arrogantly tossing his head back. He casually slipped on his shoes and walked out the door. As soon as the door clicked, I fell to my knees and began sobbing.





Chapter Three


I stayed on my knees until I caught my breath, but I didn’t want to linger any longer than necessary and risk John coming back. I needed to call my rock, and the one person I could count on no matter what. We’d known each other since we were fifteen, and she’d know the right things to say. I dialed her number, and thankfully she picked up after the first ring.

“Liz,” I said.

“Who else would it be dawling?” She laughed.

“Can I come over?” I asked.

“Of course you can,” she said. “What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

“I just caught John having sex with some blubbery slut in my living room.”

“What!” She gasped. “Ok. Wait. What happened now?” she asked then I told her everything that had happened. Without hesitating, she told me to grab my things and move in with her. She’d inherited an old house from her aunt years ago in the Hyde Park area just east of the city and had plenty of room. “I can go back later and get more of your stuff if you can’t fit it all in your car. Ugh, what a prick,” she mumbled under her breath. “You get out of there as quick as you can, and we’ll talk more when you get here,” she said.

“Ok,” I said, and I thanked God that she offered to let me move in with her. My parents are great people, but there are two things you need to know about them. One, they loved girl’s names that began with S’s—my sister being named after our grandmother and me being named after my mother’s favorite month. And two, they are the most loving and generous people you’ll ever meet. That being said, I really didn’t want to have to move back in with them at my age. I crammed all my things into my car, and an hour later, I shut the door to John’s condo and broke my key off in the lock.

I drove along as “Good Life” by ONEREPUBLIC played on the radio. I grunted under my breath. “Good life my ass.” The February sky was gray and filled with thick rolling clouds. The weathermen warned of an impending winter storm, but they never seem to get it right anyway. All of us locals called it “white death”. You’d think it was the apocalypse the way people rushed to the stores and emptied the shelves. “Just perfect,” I said as tears leaked from my eyes. “Doom and gloom are all around me.”

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into Liz’s driveway. She ran out and greeted me with a hug. “Let’s get this stuff inside then I’ll pour us drink. Sound good?" she asked.

“Yeah, I think getting drunk is my only option right now,” I said.

We dropped my things on the kitchen floor then Liz filled two very large glasses with red wine. We sat on the couch, and I wrapped myself in my favorite red velvet throw. The wind howled outside as I relived each painful detail, and Liz’s mouth hung open in shock.

“I want to go punch that little weasel. You want me to call Michael? He’s got friends that can rearrange his face if you want. Just say the word.” Liz came from a big Irish Catholic family. She’s petite, blonde, and has the bluest eyes you’ll ever see. She has five siblings, and her oldest big brother Michael is her protector. I considered Liz’s brothers and sisters my second family, and I knew Michael would gladly rearrange John’s face if I asked him. But, the last thing I needed was for him to get thrown in jail over someone who wasn’t worth my time.