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But he didn’t. He was otherwise occupied.
Which means the girl he invited over was still at his apartment. Straddling on his lap. Grinding against him. Eating his face.
Yes,eatinghis face.
They didn’t stop when I opened the door. Or closed it. I finally cleared my throat to announce my arrival and she pulled away. His entire mouth was glistening, and his lower lip looked like it had been bitten, a tiny drop of blood marring what I used to describe as perfection.
You would think she would scurry off his lap. Or that he’d jump up and try to defend himself as soon as he saw me.
Neither of those things happened.
They both froze. So did I for a second. No one said anything. It wasn’t until I turned to leave that he sprung into motion.
To say I was stunned is an understatement. Never once in our relationship had I ever worried about him cheating on me. That he wasn’t happy. Judging by what I walked in on, I was dead wrong.
ME: Gotta go. Need to prepare for my meeting with Max tomorrow. The better prepared I am, the shorter the meeting will hopefully be.
An hour later, I’ve read Cleo’s binder front to back twice. I’m fully versed in everything she’s already done and feel relatively prepared to discuss all the details with Max in the morning.
Which means it’s time to start dealing with my personal life. I’ve avoided it for as long as I can. Classes are done for the semester and my parents are expecting me home in a few days with my boyfriend in tow. The boyfriend I told them about, but they’ve never met. Because I constantly made excuses as to why he couldn’t come to Chicago with me.
I’ve always told myself I was doing it for him; so he could avoid my father’s disapproving stares and my mother’s snide comments under her breath. They would like him if they gave him a chance, but I know they won’t because he’s not from the same social circles I grew up in. It’s never bothered me, but I know it will be an issue with my parents. The simple fact he comes from Detroit, even though he grew up in a nice suburb, will matter. The lack of an expensive watch will matter. And the student loans he’s taking out to pay for his education because his parents can’t afford to help him will matter.
It’s all about appearance with them.
I’m expected to date someone whose status is equal to mine. In both their bank account and reputation.
I always thought that one day when I introduced them to the man in my life, they would love him as much as I do. For the simple fact that he made me happy. Happiness is the one thing in life you can’t buy.
Of all people, they should know this.
I just don’t see that happening. Ever.
ME: We need to talk.
His reply is instant, which surprises me. Especially since I’ve been avoiding his texts. I wasn’t even sure he would answer my message. That he would want to talk to me after I’ve ignored him for so long. And he’s texted me almost daily since I walked in on him.
TIMMY: Dinner tonight?
I need more time to mentally prepare before I see him. I’m not ready to hear his version of what happened. And that’s what it will be. A version. As if I didn’t see the scene play out before my eyes before slamming his door behind me.
The main reason I ran is because I refused to let him see me cry. I wanted to appear strong and in control. And in not answering his messages, I was trying to reinforce that perception. But was I? Or was I appearing as weak as I feel? Scared? Hurt?
Was I taking the cowards way out by cutting off all communication?
ME: Tomorrow night?
TIMMY: Pick you up around six o’clock? We can go to that Italian place you like so much.
ME: That sounds good.
TIMMY: I’m excited to see you.
How do I even respond to that? I should be excited to see him too, but I’m not. I still can’t shake the image of him with another woman. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive him, or that I want to.
And if I can’t move past this … what’s the point of trying to work things out?
What I do know is that I need closure and that’s not something I’ll get until we talk. In person. So I can say everything that’s on my mind.
