The Redemption(15)

With three quick nods, I leave the room. The heavy door shuts behind me and I remain leaning against it for support while I right my senses. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes. “Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.” Then I push off the wood and head down the hall to my room.

Once inside, I lock the bolt and flip the safety slider over. Now I’m pissed. I can’t compete with a supermodel. These are the women he’s dated… dates. Not a five-foot-three mom of two young sons who eats salad for lunch six days a week to keep most of the cellulite at bay. I flip on the bathroom light and lean forward. My brown hair is in disarray, the colors of summer not yet affecting it. My skin is more pale than olive these days and my eyeliner is smeared from the gropes in the dark. The alcohol sloshes around in my stomach, rattling my thoughts and self-esteem, or maybe it was the glamazon lying across his bed in nothing but lingerie like a gift being presented to Dex that has me shaken.

There’s a soft knock on the door and I look down, trying to collect my thoughts back together. With a deep breath, I turn and go to open it. I unlock the bolt but leave the slider in place. Three inches of visual is all I’m allowing in the state I’m in. The offense is caught in his expression. The subtle message that he knows this is going nowhere is now obvious.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

“I’m gonna go to bed.”

“What about we try this again?”

I shake my head, looking away from him. “I’m tired.” My heart pounds but I know what’s best for me.

“Roch—”

“No, it’s too much. It’s… it’s just not meant to be.”

“Bullshit. You’re scared.”

I don’t deny that. I can’t. I am scared. Looking at him, I try to hold the eye contact that will tell him I’m strong, not weak, how I really feel inside. “I had a good time, but I’m tired. I think it’s best if we both just go to bed. Goodnight, Dex.”

I start to shut the door, but his palm goes flat against the thick wood, causing a loud thud. “No, don’t do this. I don’t know how she got in. But she wasn’t there because I wanted her there. Don’t let this ruin something good,” he says, his free hand signaling between us.

After a deep sigh, all reality hits, and I respond, “She can’t ruin what’s not there. We’re an illusion that’s never supposed to be real.”

“Don’t do this, Rochelle. Please.” I see the desperation in his eyes, a panic and sadness. Maybe disappointment in me. “You’re convincing yourself that I’m the bad guy, that I don’t care, and you know that’s lies, lies you’re telling yourself to avoid anything that might actually be real.”

Wanting this door closed. Wanting the emotions welled up like a fist lingering in my chest to subside. Wanting the tears to stay at bay, I say what I shouldn’t to make it all go away. “I don’t have to convince myself that you’re the bad guy. You do a fine job of that all on your own.” With my weight behind me, I slam the door shut, knowing what I said is wrong and unwarranted, knowing that all the good strides he’s made over the years to clean up his life—I just took that away in that one line, in a sad attempt to protect my heart. Because no matter what he says to me today, he’ll break my heart tomorrow. That I do know.





My head is pounding from dehydration and not enough food. I break into the mini-bar to get a bottle of water. After fishing two ibuprofen from my purse, I swallow them and lay back down. With my forearm draped over my eyes, I try to sleep again. It’s not working. Tonight was so good… then it wasn’t. Damn supermodel in matching lingerie exes. There is nothing wrong with a little cotton every now and again.

Rolling to my side, I try my hardest to block out my confrontation with Dex and what almost was. When that doesn’t work, I turn on the TV and watch infomercials until the sun starts to rise. Then I get up and get dressed. After washing my face, I pull my hair back before heading downstairs and outside. Two blocks down and one street over, I find a Starbucks.

I retrieve my coffee when my name is called and find a chair in the corner near the window. With my back to the line that’s forming, I drop my head into my hands. What am I doing here? I don’t have the luxury of being irresponsible. I have children who rely on me to be the exact opposite.

“Stop beating yourself up.”

With my back to him, I sigh, not sure how I feel about the intrusion into my head.

“Can I join you?” Dex asks.

Per usual, my heart reacts to the sound of his voice. I slowly look up and nod, giving in. “Why are you up so early?”

He sits across from me, our knees bumping under the tiny round table. “I don’t think I actually went to sleep.” Disappointment settles on my face, but he’s quick to correct my assumption. “I was alone all night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If I couldn’t be with you, I didn’t want to be with anyone else.” He leans forward, pushing his coffee to the side, and whispers, “We weren’t doing anything wrong. Rochelle, you’re a widow, but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re young, you have needs. I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of your life alone.”