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HUDSON
Diana flings a large brown envelope at my feet the minute I step into the hotel room.
Her large blue eyes are full of tears and she’s fully clothed today in an oversized black sweater and jeans.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask reaching down for the envelope and clutching it tightly in my fist, before staring at Diana for an explanation.
“Why don’t you look inside!” She paces back and forth, biting her thumb’s fingernail.
As I rip open the flap, I find several pictures inside the envelope. More like enlarged shots of Diana naked. Shots of Diana and I fucking, of Diana and I in this very room together.
“What is this?” I ask holding the pictures up.
She did this. It won’t be a big deal if it isn’t Diana in the middle of a huge scandal. It’s like dealing with a child when it comes to Diana. She loves the attention, especially when I give it to her. I know she loves it, which is why I entertain her and she entertains me in return.
But this is taking it too far. I draw the line when it comes to evidence like this.
“What does it look like?” She stares at me, unblinking, almost as if she’s about to lose it. “It’s us fucking, Hudson. You and I in caught in broad daylight.”
I let out an incredulous laugh and shake my head before throwing the pictures down on the wooden table and sitting down at the edge of the bed.
“Right. Now we’re being stalked?” I ask, playing along with her story.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She grabs the picture and holds it in her fist before hitting me hard against my chest. “You think I did this?!”
“Jesus, Diana.” I try to grab her wrists, but she pushes me away and drops the pictures to the floor.
“What am I going to do?” she asks herself as she sits on the floor, staring out at the evening Manhattan skyline, her shoulders shaking as she cries.
“Diana, are you okay?” I stand above her and press her shoulders.
She’s silent for a few minutes, so I kneel behind her and place my lips against her neck. Her lavender scent fills my senses as I take a deep breath.
“Diana,” I say carefully. “Are you okay?”
“Can you stop being a robot for one fucking second and actually listen to me?” Her voice is shaky and far away, her words hit me hard.
It takes me back to the time she said I wasn’t normal and that I needed help. Now I am responding the way I’ve seen Matt respond to Taylor and the way other couples do when there’s an upsetting situation, yet Diana is still judging me as if the way I am is my fault.
“Are you expecting me to believe that someone is out to get you, right after I told you someone was doing weird shit to me?” I ask.
Diana stands up and grabs her bag from the bed, before drying underneath her eyes with a piece of tissue.
“It’s fine,” she says. “You only used me when you needed to. I know you don’t even fucking care about me. I’m married.” She grabs the pictures. “I can’t let this fucking ruin me.”
“Then go back to your husband and stop looking for an excuse every Goddamn time you’re in New York to let me fuck you, Diana,” I hiss. “I don’t need to fuck you. You got it wrong. It’s the other way around. I’m really tired of your dramatic games. You don’t always have to be the main character. Why don’t you go back to Seattle and be a housewife?”
The tears are running down her face and no matter how many times she tries to wipe them away, they continue to fall. I know she’s breaking inside. I can see it, but I don’t feel anything. No guilt. No sorrow. She’s just added weight off my shoulders.
“So that’s what you really think.” It’s not a question so I don’t answer.
She should know how I am. Deep down she knows and yet she still lets me exploit her because some part of her loves it. Some fucked up part of her wants me to hurt her and I love hurting her. I love watching her cry and watching her heart shatter in front of me.
It turns me on to see the pain in her beautiful blue eyes. That’s the fucked up part of me. Pain always brings out the real person.
