AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Finally, I turned toward the road, intent on calling an Uber. Tears blurred my vision as I methodically unlocked my phone, searched for the app, and called for a car. I felt the tears finally fall, but I did nothing to stop their descent. What was the point in stopping it when more would just take their place?
As if that weren’t enough, Mother called me as I was walking into to my apartment. I closed my eyes and sighed before I picked it up.
“Hi, Mother. I take it that you want to discuss what happened today.”
“You haven’t been married for more than a month and already things are imploding.”
I paused, staring at the phone in disbelief. “Mother, it just wasn’t working out. I couldn’t keep up the ruse. I’m a different woman than I was when he proposed. Granted, I shouldn’t have cheated on him—”
“Did you know you two were being filmed?” Mother interrupted.
My heart stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Search for Michael Smith and Alicia Jones online,” she said.
With shaking fingers, I opened my laptop computer, opening up a web browser and typing in our names. The first video clip had over 200,000 views in the last two hours, and was titled Michael Smith and Alicia Jones Go Nuclear. With lead fingers, I clicked on it.
As I watched with mounting horror, I heard my conversation with Michael repeated back to me as if from a distance. The person filming had some damn good audio equipment, because even though they seemed to be several yards away, the audio quality was pristine.
When I heard Michael’s final words to me, I exited out of the browser and sighed. Putting the phone to my ear, I said to Mother, “What do you suggest I do?”
“Alicia, this is a disaster that I knew was coming. I told you to keep him happy so that this wouldn’t happen and instead, you go and screw up everything.”
Resignation set into my bones, as weary and endless as time. “Well, at least he didn’t have a chance to go to the press.”
“And that’s a good thing? At least if he went to the press, we could have some control of the narrative. Now your infidelity is out there and on tape for the whole world to see—with you readily admitting to it!” Mother sighed, exasperated. “Alicia, how could you be so careless? You knew what this venture meant to your father. And he can’t afford any additional stress. For goodness sakes, he just had a heart attack!”
I paused as the implications of what my mother was suggesting caught up to me. “Are you really saying this is solely my fault?” I asked. “Are you actually telling me that you’d rather I spend my life in a miserable marriage to help out Father’s business? You’d rather see me in pain than see me be free? Mother, your loyalty, your support, should be for your own flesh and blood, not someone you wanted to go into business with. And yes, admittedly, I made some mistakes along the way, but so did Michael! With this alone, he made a mistake. He was the one that wanted to talk outside in the first place!” I growled in frustration. “Have you ever thought that maybe this was the way it’s supposed to turn out? I couldn’t do it anymore. Michael is not The One. I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t meant for me or whom I wasn’t meant for. And if it weren’t for you two walking in on me and Andrew, maybe we would have never known before it was too late.”
“Meant for him? The One?” Mother scoffed. “Alicia, come back to reality. Sometimes, you must make small sacrifices to get the thing that you ultimately want. Security. A loving husband. You were going to gain all of that, but instead, you decided that you’d rather follow a pipe dream. That romantic notion, while cute, fades quickly after you say, ‘I do.’ It’s the willingness to be another’s partner that gets you through the hard times, not romance.”
“I’d much rather forsake security and follow, as you so lovingly called it, a ‘pipe dream’ than stay in a marriage where ultimately, I’d have to give up my dreams for my husband’s. Michael wanted a trophy, Mother, not a wife. He wanted to restrict me, to control me, the way he does his employees. I’m supposed to be his actual partner, not some bauble on a shelf.”
It was my mother’s turn to sigh. “Alicia, I’ll call you later. When you’re not so irrational.”
I felt the tears fall down my cheeks, felt the scream building in my throat. “Then don’t bother calling. Because I’ll never be reasonable enough to understand how a mother could choose business over her own daughter.”
I hung up, feeling of sting of my mother’s betrayal in my tears. I knew my mother was ruthless, but deep down, I thought that our recent shared moments meant something more to her. I thought it meant that her love was unconditional, but instead, I found that the saying was true: when someone tells you who they are, believe them.
All my life, my mother had told me that I had to be worthy of her love, to prove myself to garner her favor. Time and time again, I leaned on everyone else—Catalina, Dante, Andrew—to fill the void that my parents never filled. Before, when Dante was alive, I had come to expect it. But in these last couple of weeks, I started to believe that maybe I was wrong about my parents. Maybe they could love me.
My hope made the fall to reality that much more painful.
I don’t know how long I sat in my living room before I heard a pounding on the door. “Alicia, I know you’re in there. Open up.”
Without knowing how I got there, I opened the door to Catalina’s startled face. I grimaced. “How did you hear?”
“I saw the video,” she said. She watched me with sad doe eyes. “Oh, Alicia.” She shut the door and opened her arms.
Usually, I hesitate to give anyone a hug, even Catalina, whom I’ve known pretty much my whole life. This time, I didn’t hesitate. As her arms wrapped around me firmly, everything I had been holding in—fear of my feelings for Andrew, panic at how it made me look, anger for not being able to overcome it, sorrow for what I lost, betrayal by way of my parents—came rushing to the surface in a maelstrom of tears and snot. I wailed against Catalina’s shoulder while she made comforting humming noises. “I know,” was all she said. “I know.”
“It hurts,” I sobbed. “Why does it hurt?”
She rubbed circles on my back as I hiccuped and finally trailed off in a pitiful-sounding sniffle. She led me to the couch, had me put my head in her lap as she stroked my hair.
“This is gonna sound absolutely ridiculous,” she said. “But you’re gonna get through this.”
“How?” I wiped my nose with my sleeve. “I have no money and no steady income; my husband wants a divorce; my infidelity is all over the internet; and I’m practically homeless. Where do I go from here?”
