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Now that I’d eaten, I was feeling loads better. My mind was clearer, and I was starting to process last night. I had a billion and one questions, but for right now I was content to wait for the answers. I was at ease with Vic nearby; I was comfortable in his clothes and eating his food. I reached for a banana, as if to stress the point to myself. I felt like Vic and I were starting fresh.
“You know, you should feel special, Lennox,” Vic said as he put away our dishes. “I don’t let just anyone into my apartment, much less upstairs.”
“Oh yeah, I feel so special. You let some random girl up there last night…” Shit. I hadn’t meant to bring it up. It had come out of my mouth like water swallowed incorrectly. Now there it was, hanging in the air like some jealous flying monkey from the Wizard of Oz.
“That wasn’t some random woman,” Vic said casually. “She’s my wife.”
I stopped eating the banana mid chew, my mouth hanging open. What the—? Wife? Did he say his wife? And did he really just drop that bomb as casually as one would have mentioned, “Oh, this is my collection of Star Wars memorabilia”?
“Oh, okay. Okay. Yeah, I see how it is, okay.” I nodded my head, not even close to absorbing what I just heard. I think a bit of banana fell out of my mouth through all of my “okays.” No, strike that, I know it did, because I’m staring at it on the floor.
“Lennox, let me explain,” Vic said, daring to take a step toward me.
I shook my head. “No, I get it. Okay, yeah, okay. It’s okay.” I did not get it.
“It’s not okay. Let me explain,” Vic implored, taking another step closer.
“Okay, yeah, no. It’s okay. I get it. I see how it is.” The entire time I was talking I still hadn’t finished chewing the bite of banana.
He had a wife. A wife. That’s why he couldn’t have a relationship—because he had a wife.
I was th
e other woman.
I was a hussy.
I unconsciously chewed the rest of the banana that was still in my mouth. I was losing my mind. I’d lost it before, but this time I wasn’t sure I was going to get it back. I couldn’t believe all of this was happening. First Dean and now this. It was literally too much for me to comprehend. My brain put a sign on the door that said “on vacation.”
I heard a low buzzing sound. I focused on it, and realized it was Vic’s voice: “Lennox? Hey, Lennox?” Vic caught my eye and pressed forward. “Lennox, I need to explain something to you. She’s not the reason we can’t be together.”
I took another bite of my banana. The fruit was beginning to feel like my crutch. “I’m not real into bigamy,” I whispered.
A joke, perfect. I’d made a joke. It’s what I did in any situation that remotely deviated from the norm. Someone’s sad? Joke. Sick? Joke. Funeral? Time to break out the standup routine.
“Neither am I,” Vic responded. He hadn’t stopped staring at me since he’d dropped the W-bomb.
“Okay.” I placed the rest of my banana on his immaculate kitchen counter. Oddly enough, I wasn’t hungry anymore.
“We’ve been separated for nearly eight years,” Vic said, shrugging like that made everything okay. Wait, fuck him, they literally just had sex. Separated for eight years? I think not!
I rubbed my hands over my face and moaned. “You have a weird definition of separation.”
“Occasionally we get together,” Vic replied. “The line of work we’re in . . . well, it’s hard to meet people.”
You met me.
I eyed my banana, sitting so neatly on his countertop, wondering if I should throw it away. He was a clean-freak, after all. No! Let that be my act of rebellion. He left out the fact that he had a wife, so I’m going to leave out my banana. That’ll teach him. “Thank you for helping me with Dean,” I muttered. “If there’s any way I can repay you, please let me know.”
I ran out the front door before he could say anything, letting the door close gently behind me. I was not going to show any more of my emotions to Vic than I had already.
I looked down. “Shit.” I was wearing Vic’s shirt, no pants, no shoes, and I didn’t have my apartment key or my smartphone.
This was indeed proving to be a banner year for me.
When I arrived at my apartment, Vic was already there waiting in the doorway.
In the short time it had taken the elevator to get from his floor to mine, I’d gone from humiliated to seriously pissed. How dare he? No, really, how dare he? How do people do terrible things to other people? This was no rhetorical question; I wanted an answer, because, lately, people were doing a lot of terrible things to me.
