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A hand waving frantically catches my eye at the back of the restaurant. There’s a young girl with deep red hair and freckles bouncing in her seat. As I get near to the booth she’s sitting in, she shakes her head.
“How could you forget where I’m sitting? We always sit here. It even has your name on it.”
I think she’s joking, but when I slink into the seat next to her, sure enough, my name’s on it, like I own this particular seat.
“I’ve already ordered the cosmos.”
I shake my head. “Oh, I’m not drinking.”
The laughter that spills out of her is so loud, everyone in the restaurant looks our way. The room is huge, and it’s also packed. I’m guessing this Alessandro is a very popular chef.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
She’s laughing so much that she’s hyperventilating. When she eventually catches her breath, she responds, “You, not drinking. It’s about the funniest joke I’ve heard in ages.”
“Sounds like you don’t get out much, then,” I quip back. “I’m being deadly serious. I’m not touching any drink at all. I’m in a bad place with Eli right now and I want to be a better wife.”
Completely silent, Alyson slinks back in her chair, a serious expression on her face. “Wow,” she eventually says. “You really are being serious, aren’t you? I never thought I’d see the day.”
Her words hit more than they should. I don’t understand it. In my heart, I would rather stick pins in my eyes than hurt Eli. And yet, here I am being told by everyone what an asshole I am. From being so stuck up in turning down would-be musicians, to being accosted by the pool boy in my bed and sent messages from another would-be lover, I sound like the devil incarnate.
“I don’t like who I am,” I say, being completely honest. “I think my behavior last night has set something off inside me. Eli can barely look at me lately, and I don’t want to live like that. No marriage should be like that.”
Alyson cocks her head, intently listening. “If that’s what you want.”
I narrow my eyes at her, wondering why she said only that. I’m guessing it’s because she somehow doesn’t believe me. Or maybe it’s that she thinks this is some phase that’ll pass in a couple of days. I sigh. I’m not going to justify myself to her. The only person I can do that for is myself.
And Eli. I want to be a better person for him.
Needing a minute or two to myself, I get up, excusing myself. “I need the restroom. Can you order me a beef lasagna if the waiter comes?” My mouth waters at the thought. I just really fancy a lasagna.
“You mean a salad, right? You always order the Waldorf salad.”
I purse my lips slightly. I’m not letting anyone tell me what to eat. Not my agent, not my friend… nobody. “Not today,” I sing, heading to the restroom.
I’m in the hallway and about to enter the ladies’ when I’m approached by a tall, olive-skinned man in a white chef coat, the name Alessandro embroidered in lavender across his chest.
“Kendra,” he purrs, in a rich Italian accent. His eyes scan from top to bottom, drinking me in. “Bellissima, as always.” I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move at first. He approaches me like a lion about to pounce, slinking his arm around my waist and pulling me towards the hard bulge between his legs. “I have a spare five minutes, if you do,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows and motioning his head towards the disabled restroom. I’m still in shock, still rooted to the floor, unable to move. That is until his hand slides down from my waist and onto my bottom, giving it a pat.
I yelp, pushing him away before surprising him with a slap. “How dare you touch me like that!” I shout, shocking the hell out of him as he covers the area of his face where I’ve slapped him.
I don’t give him time to respond. I rush into the ladies’ room, approaching the sinks and leaning on them to catch my breath a little. I glance up, taking in a good look at myself. I’m stunningly beautiful, but if I look closely enough, I can see it. See the monstrosity that lives inside of me. It’s then I realize something about myself.
“Oh my God, I’m a slut!”
I thought I was alone. The sound of a flushing toilet makes my eyes go wide, catching my breath. I stay stock still as this little old lady who looks well into her eighties approaches the sink without a word or a glance my way and starts to wash her hands. I sigh my relief. Maybe she didn’t hear me.
I watch as she washes her hands and then walks behind me to get some towels. She throws them in the bin and starts to walk towards the door, but when she’s behind me again, she hesitates.
“The first step is admitting it, dear.”
With that, she pats my back gently, and walks out of the door without a care in the world.
I shake my head rapidly, wondering if I’ll wake up from this television show I must be starring in. Surely this isn’t real? Surely I’m stuck in some sort of warped time zone, or maybe it’s that I’m dead and my soul has entered into this body. Yes, that would be a better explanation as to what’s happening, because all of this seems completely surreal.
I take stock for a couple of seconds, inhaling in some much-needed deep breaths. I glance at the door. I have to go out there in a second and face my life. A life that’s alien. A life that’s full of lies and secrets. A life I feel I’m spiraling out of control in.
And I’m unsure as to whether I can face it.
