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Who am I joking? I still love her and probably will for some time. But I can’t think of anything but her kissing that man across the street. It wasn’t a friendly kiss. Not like the kisses she gave me weeks ago. No, that was a thanks for rocking my world, can’t wait to see you tonight kiss. I know those kisses. I’ve lived with them for many, many years.
Now, I live with nothing but painful memories that my mind keeps telling me have been filled with lies and deceit. How has she moved on already? I find it impossible, unless he’s the reason she’s moved us here.
No, she didn’t moveus.Shemoved here and demanded her children come with her, because no matter what, at the end of the day, she’s a mother, and a damn good one.
I moved here out of my own selfish need. I wanted her to want me, to see that she needed me, but she didn’t. Aubrey placated me until she’d had enough.
But then . . . why make love to me? Why tell me she wanted to try and fix things?
None of it makes sense, and I don’t think I’ll get an answer out of her any time soon. She knows cheating is a hard limit for me.
Nope.
Just like now.
“Ugh,” I push my hands into my hair and tug on the ends, pulling until my scalp screams and burns. Honestly, that feels better than the giant hole in my chest does. I look down, expecting to see a red spot or blood oozing from the gaping wound left by Aubrey.
Another flash of her and the man across the street.
They’d definitely been together, I surmise. The way he tilted her head back with the lift of her chin. The way he brushed her hair out of her face, curling the loose strands behind her ear. Her breasts, full and voluptuous, pressing into his chest while her fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants. I can only imagine her smile. The same one she’d given to me for years she now gave to someone else.
I take my phone from my pocket and dial the director of my program. He begged me to come back, to be on staff, and I reluctantly agreed knowing I needed an out when things went south. They are as far south as they’re going to get in my opinion.
“Nick, what can I do for you,” Kirk says when our call connects.
“I need to get out of my contract,” I tell him, only to realize I should’ve started off with some elaborate excuse, like my mom’s sick or my house flooded. Neither of which are true, and ideas I don’t want to put out in the universe. Mostly because I hate lying about situations that could come true. Honesty is the best and only policy. Deep down, this is something Aubrey and I should’ve practiced a year ago when she began to turn my advances away. Instead, I retreated to the office and slept on the couch. That was my mistake.
There’s a long pause, followed by a sigh. “I can’t do that, Nick.”
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my mind, I knew this. “I don’t need the money,” I tell him. “I’ll pay back what you’ve given me.”
“Nick, it’s not that. We need you. Now that you’re signed on until November, others are heading home to see their families. I can’t tell them they can’t go.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing full well I should’ve never agreed to this. “Things aren’t good for me here,” I tell him. “Aubrey and I?—”
“I heard,” he says. “Honestly, I was a bit surprised by the whole thing.”
“Yeah.” I was but wasn’t. It’s not like she didn’t tell me she wanted this months ago.
“I guess I didn’t realize you weren’t together when you moved here.”
“I didn’t move here . . .” His words give me pause. It wasn’t necessarily what he said, but how he said it. “What do you mean?”
“Just that I’m surprised she’s engaged. She came into the office the other day, flashing a ring around. From what Jokoba says, they’ve been together for a year now.”
Everything in me dies. Every. Single. Part.
“Nick?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t know she was engaged?”
I clear my throat. “Kirk, up until a few weeks ago, we were still fucking. Hell, technically, we’re still married until the divorce papers are finalized. So no, I didn’t know my wife was having an affair.” I hang up. Talking to him isn’t going to get me anywhere. Only after, do I realize I should’ve left my dirty laundry in the hamper and not shared it on the clothesline.
I’m pretty certain I pace a hole into the floor of my apartment. The downstairs neighbor probably wonders what I’m doing to make the floor creak. I know I’d be fearful that the ceiling was going to fall in with how rickety everything feels.
The alarm on my phone sounds, it’s time to pick Amelie up from school. On the days I have her, I like to give Talisa time off. She’s still paid, but I want to be more hands on. On my drive, I think about how life is going to be when I leave here, how things are going to be for Amelie. Will she solely depend on Talisa or will Aubrey be as present as she was back in Beaumont. I really want to know what she’s thinking or if she thought I’d find out.
