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I planned to take this woman home and tell her she was the mother of my daughter. Again, I felt like I was about to lose my breakfast into a barf bag.
I booked the honeymoon suite at the Whitehall in Chicago, close to Michigan Ave. I thought the room fit the occasion, and I wanted to give her a relaxing night.
For the first time, I took a moment to look at her in detail. Rita was an exquisite woman; her skin was sun-kissed and untouched by any flaws except a few freckles on her face that only added to her beauty. Her hair was lush and dark as the night sky as it fell in waves down her back. It made her face so beautiful, it almost made me forget to look at the rest. Almost. But it was hard for a man to dismiss her generous bust and those round hips. She had a perfect hourglass figure.
All that beauty was covered by a simple dress that I made her grab in the Boston airport. It was unworthy of someone so tantalizing. A bitter thought crossed my mind, reminding me that my wife would have never been seen wearing such an ordinary item. The remains of Avery's presence in my life made me wish to be able to lose some memories.
"Why don’t you take a bath? Meanwhile, I’ll go and bring you some clothes. We can have dinner at the restaurant downstairs."
My suggestion took her by surprise. It took me by surprise too.
"This sounds an awful lot like a date."
"It can be if you want it to be."
"You're gonna go to our house to pick out the clothes?"
"Don't worry about this." Of course, I was not going home because there were no clothes for her there. Only a few things Avery left behind that couldn't fit Rita's generous curves.
"Bring me a dress, please. I want to look nice when my husband takes me on our firs... well, on a date."
I smiled at her enthusiasm.
"I'll put on a suit for you."
"I can only imagine how dazzling you'll look." She sounded playful and intimate, and it scared the hell out of me to hear that. The more comfortable she was, the more I realized the seriousness of my actions.
What was worse was that I knew I could stop. I could tell her what I did and put her on the next plane back to Boston, make her the problem of the authorities there.
...But I didn’t. I stepped close to her, weighed my actions for a second and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She still had that distinct hospital smell on her, but also, her hair had a feminine aroma, sweet and spicy.
"I'm only a complimentary accessory to you, Rita." And I didn’t feel bad for my words because I was not lying. Anyone who'd see us would only see a beautiful woman with something - me - hanging on her arm.
"Could you also bring my makeup, please?"
Fuck, where was I supposed to find that?
"Sure. Go set yourself for that bath. I'll be back in couple of hours, ok?"
"Ok."
I watched her hips as she sashayed to the bathroom, and this simple act made my groin burn. I found myself lusting after Rita and gaping at the door she closed in my face.
I needed to get out of here and think very hard about my life and what the hell I was doing with it.
There were so many wrong elements in this equation. I found a woman passed out in the street, and I took her home. I took her away from her city, maybe away from some people. I felt my heart shrinking when I remembered the simple wedding band wrapped around her ring finger. In an act of divine irony, hers matched mine, and that was what tricked her into looking up at me and asking if we were married. I checked her ID and her chart; she was not married and no birth was registered in her medical history, but this gave me no real reassurance that I hadn’t ripped her out of someone's arms.
I walked out of the hotel and cursed under my breath. I was so pathetic. I couldn’t bear to look at my reflection in the glass wall of the lobby. In my desperation, I got out into the street and sat down on the frozen pavement, looking like a dog that stopped to lick his wounds in the middle of the Windy City.
My thoughts flew to Avery, and in an ultimate act of pity I prayed my curse found her, wherever the hell she was. We met in college. I was in med school; she was studying journalism and was taking massage courses. Her older sister owned a so-called relaxation clinic, and her side interest was acupuncture, yoga and massage shit. I was on the baseball team, and she cheered for me. We fell in love in the dusty rooms of the library. After graduation, we got married right away. It seemed like my dreams were coming true; the family I always wanted was starting to take shape. If I had to point to a moment when we started to drift apart, it had to be Avery’s first - and only - job. We were married for only eleven months when she started in a writer position for Chicago Style Magazine; that was when the taste of fashion and glam hit Avery with the force of Hurricane Maria. Lucky for us, I had a position secured at Chicago Mercy General before finishing med school. I was not ashamed to say that my father had worked here for years as a plastic surgeon before moving into private practice. Money started to come in, and Avery was happy to stay home and do her own "entrepreneurial " activity. Shopping. To my horror, she turned into the type of person that scared me all my life - my parents’ type - cold, indifferent, and self-centered like my mother. Quickly, our marriage began to resemble that of my parents. Dull. Boredom overtook her so she indulged my wish to have a baby.
My angel, my will to live. I'd give my left arm if that would bring just one smile on my baby's face. Avery left us almost seven months ago, on Chelsea's second month anniversary, and to this day, I don't know how she could walk out on our family. Me? Forget about me, but our daughter? What could be more important than staying with that beautiful child? God himself couldn't keep me away from Chelsea.
Avery's leaving fucked up my balance. I was left alone with sleepless nights to raise a daughter and pick up the pieces of my shattered life. All I ever wanted since that day was my dream back. My little corner of heaven.
Rita.
When the woman I'd seen fainting on the Bostonian sidewalk woke up and talked about our marriage, I felt that destiny had finally intervened. I had a wife, a mother for Chelsea. I just couldn't say no.
