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“Hell yeah, bro. Right. Fucking. Now.” I raised my glass to his, and we clanged them together.
“I just feel like, there’s so much more out there, ya know?” He stared at the cute black toes of the brunette sitting next to him. My parents were never around as a kid, and when you had no supervision, you learned things the hard way. A little sooner than most.
The key to fucking happiness was freedom. When you had freedom, you had it all. The world was at your fingertips.
No boundaries, no limitations.
I imagined marriage was the exact opposite of that. Some people think if you have love, you have it all. Because true love is rare these days. I also heard love makes people do crazy things. It sounded exciting.
“You need to just live your life. Tell your wife you want to move away somewhere. The other side of the country.” My own words reminding me of exactly what my mother did.
“No man, that’s the thing. She never wants to leave here. She says this is where she’ll die.” He stared into his drink like the answers he was looking for were at the bottom of that glass. I watched him, feeling a little bad for the guy. Married, stuck. I wondered when he’d last gotten any. He looked at me.
“Heavy.” I sighed, shaking my head for effect.
Shot after shot, Nate and I shared our woes. They were different, very different. His problems involved vows and conflicting religions, while mine were about loneliness and misdirection; but no one my age even thought about the shit I did. Maybe I needed another trip to back to Greece, the only place where I felt at home. Yia-Yia was gone now, so it wouldn’t be the same.
I lost track of how many shots and how many spilled drinks it took for us to get drunk. We made it to the door together, and I stumbled. We laughed as he quoted cartoons and sitcoms until I was crying. Nate called an Uber, but I walked. I figured that would be the best way to sober up before I got back. If I was lucky, maybe Alyssa would stand naked and sudsy in the kitchen again.
The thought made me grin.
After the nightin the kitchen, I made myself scarce around the house.
I kept myself busy with women’s luncheons and chamber meetings. I floated through the Marina and Augustine’s with a smile and curtesy offered to everyone I passed. Bankers and lawyers thanked me and bragged about their newest boats, cars, or houses. Keeping up with appearances in the community was a small fortune. Cars, clothes, and regular salon visits. But I grew up around expensive clothes and jewellery, an endless amount of whatever I wanted. So, acting like this came easy.
Materialistic made me happy when I was younger. As I got older though, and yes- wiser, I saw things differently. Since my father was not of sound mind or body to decide, some season holders pulled their slips. Some remained, but I wasn’t the responsible type. It just wasn’t my nature. And they knew. After my brother’s car accident, my sister married and never looked back. The Marina was left to me.
I wasn’t making money. This month I barely made rent, and panic set in. I checked the buttons on the choker of my Prada blouse. Clicking my heels along the dock slats, I smiled at everyone I passed. I reached the docking station, where we kept most of the surveillance tapes and slips. It was also where Jeno worked.
I opened the door, the smell of musk hitting me as I stepped inside. I grabbed an envelope from a shelf next to the desk and reached over to open the smallest drawer in the middle. A small stack of personal check still inside, neatly stacked next to a pile of invoices. The new season meant new season slips. Now was the time to make some money. I grabbed them up, sliding them into the envelope.
“Alyssa! I’ve been trying to track you down. Can we chit-chat, doll?” It was Richard Davenport, my favourite customer.
“Of course, I’ll be right there.” I jotted my name on the envelope and slammed the drawer shut, ushering Richard out of the small cabin.
“I’d like you to call and set up a meeting with my assistant. Ya’ll are all so great here, and I think we can keep the entire staff. Are you sure your groom can take this on?” Richard stood with a gold and cherry wood cane. It was topped with an eagle. He looked like the inventor from Jurassic Park.
“Absolutely, Richard. He could use the work, love the challenge. I’ll call on Monday.” Richard pulled me into a hug, lingering a little too long. He stepped back and smiled.
“Looking forward to it, my dear. Take care.” He hobbled off toward his massive yacht, that dwarfed the rest.
I was pleased with myself. Networking was my strongest business strategy, and it may just get me out from under this burden. Someone abruptly yanked my head back, and at first, I thought I had caught my shirt on a post.
“What the fuck was that?” Kostas hissed into my ear, pulling my hair back so far, I couldn’t move. “Did you fuck him? On his fancy yacht?” He pushed my head away, sending me forward and tripping over my heels. I fell to the dock, looking up at him in disbelief.
I grabbed my scalp, still burning from where he’d pulled. “What is wrong with you, Kostas?!”
“Shit, shit. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to knock you over.” He looked shocked and reached out a hand to help me up. I looked at it, confused. I stood and straightened by skirt.
“That’s Richard, don’t you recognise him? He’s a potential business associate. Remember?” I snorted in disgust, turning my back on him and hurrying away in the other direction. Still in shock, I looked around the Marina’s top decks to see how many people just witnessed us. Kostas’ heavy footsteps sounded behind me and he grabbed my shoulder. We were almost to the stairs, hidden just under the top deck. I stopped, heart pounding. His fingers sunk into my skin, pinching and stinging. I elbowed him as hard as I could, his grip releasing. I sprinted up the stairs as fast as I could.
He remained at the bottom but yelled, “Come on! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Alyssa, please.”
I didn’t look back.
I knew what an abuser’s cycle looked like. My friend Kirsten was divorced and an abuse survivor. It was the reason I felt so protective of her, the reason we never lost touch. It was an endless circle of gas lighting, contempt placing blame and abuse. Followed by apologies and the ‘I’ll never do it again’ speech.
And the women who love these men, like Kirsten, believe them. Make excuses for them. But when the love runs out, so do the excuses.
