"I gave you an opportunity to back out," he argued.
It was true. That night, after literal y sweeping me off of my feet kissing me and whispering sweet things in my ear, he asked while we were
having sex on the kitchen table.
"I've been pretty pushy about this," he had said. "If you want to back out, I'l respect that."
Now at the aquarium, I said "You presented that opportunity while we were sexing on the kitchen table! You can't ask me that during an orgasm!"
A mother with three smal children gave me a look so dirty I felt like I should wash my mouth out with soap. I apologized and led Kyle away from
the cluster fuck of families we were in.
"What do you want me to say, Em?" He threw his hands up.
"If you are going to just propose, why are we doing this?"
"I love you. You love me. We want to be together, and I didn't say I was going to propose."
"What we have isn't
togetherness
. It's
sneakiness,"
I hissed.
"Wel , if you break up with Luke, that wil be one less person to worry about."
"Why should I break up with him?" I put my hands on my hips. "Am I supposed to just sit at home alone on the nights you're fucking Jessyca?"
"You have nothing to lose by breaking up with him." He said, and I could hear Kyle the Dick under his tone.
"I would actual y lose a lot. He's a good man and cares about me, which is another reason this is so fucked up. He doesn't deserve this."
"Then let him go."
"You're so selfish, Kyle. Maybe I should let
you
go."
His eyes flashed with anger and he crossed his arms, looking like a real tough guy, but said nothing. He only glared at me.
"And I'm tired of coming to you after being with him, staying up so late. My work - your work - is suffering."
"What do you mean
being with him
? You're sleeping with him? You told me you weren't."
I bit my bottom lip and watched a young couple a few yards away, holding hands and total y carefree.
"Emmy." He said my name in a way that made me take a startled step back. He was seething with anger and I had not said anything yet.
"I never said I wasn't," I said quietly. "For some stupid reason, you assumed I wasn't sleeping with him and I didn't correct you."
"So if you love me, why would you sleep with him?" That tone again. It was low, but firm, strong, and so
infuriated
.
"He doesn't know that I have another boyfriend, Kyle. So I can see why he thinks it's okay to sleep with his
girlfriend.
"
"But
you
know differently." He opened and closed his fists.
I never thought that he was going to hit me, but his anger was unsettling nonetheless. My own anger was about to boil over, though.
"You don't have to make me feel any dirtier than I already feel." Tears threatened to spil out of my eyes.
Stupid tears
.
"You're stil sleeping with Jessyca, I know you are, and I know you love her. I know it's more than 'just business' like you say. Until you are ready
to
choose
, don't you dare judge me or tel me who I can and cannot see."
I walked away from him.
"Where are you going?" He said from a few feet behind me.
"I'm going home." I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Alone."
"I'm not ready to leave." He said it as if that gave him some kind of control, which made me angrier.
"Stop fol owing me."
"How are you going to get home?" He didn't ask out of concern. He was taunting me.
I stopped and turned around. He almost ran into me.
"I know you think I'm inferior, Kyle, but I'm not incompetent. Dick."
He looked surprised, started to speak, but I walked away. This time he didn't fol ow.
It was wel over an hour before my phone started blowing up. I sent each of his cal s straight to voicemail. He texted several times, too, but I
didn't answer them either.
I was lucky enough to find a train to Phil y. I didn't care if Kyle was angry or worried. We have had disagreements in the past, and once at work
when he was in a sour mood, I told him off in front of Eliza. It was a work related situation, but it's not something I would have done before we started
our affair.
I refused to cry, even though I had a strong urge to do so. I intended to stay angry so that I could break this shit off. I real y did have strong
feelings for Kyle but I couldn't continue down this path. It wasn't going to end wel for me.
In a cab back in Jersey, I final y answered one of
thirty-three
of Kyle's text messages (he cal ed
forty-seven
times, I shit you not. Who
does
that!
).
I'm in Jerze for now. I don't want to see you or talk to you right now.
Whether or not he answered, I don't know. I turned my phone off. When I got home, I quickly packed a bag and left before Kyle could show up. I
couldn't just lock him out since I was stupid enough to give him a key.
Stupid Emmy.
***
I decided that I needed to get a lot of stuff off of my chest. I turned my phone on long enough to again lie to Luke.
Having phone issues. Will call you soon. Xoxo
"I need to stay here for a night, maybe two." I said, walking past her into her house.
"Is your crazy mom in town already? There should be posters up across the county to warn people she's coming."
"It's not my mom, but if it helps you and the rest of the county to know, she wil be here the first week of June."
"That's good to know. What are you doing here?" She wasn't being mean. Donya was always straight forward.
"I have proverbial skeletons in my proverbial closet." I said with a heavy sigh.
We sat down on her couch. I propped my feet up on her coffee table and sighed again.
"I'm sleeping with Kyle."
"Your boss? The dick?" She gaped at me. "Shut up!"
"Okay. Reactions like that...not helping."
"I'm sorry, but...damn, Emmy!"
"Not helping!"
"Okay, okay. I wil try to contain myself through your story." She stared at me expectantly.
"Okay. It al started the Thursday night before that big storm, in December."
"That far back? Shut up!"
I glared at her. She quickly apologized.
"It started that Thursday, at the bar..."
It took me awhile to sort through the sordid details aloud, and even though D didn't yel "shut up" anymore, she stil asked a lot of questions.
"Wow." She said, when I had finished.
"I feel like such a dirty whore," I said, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice. I didn't stop myself from crying this time.
D rubbed my back for a few minutes, letting me cry.
"Emmy, you're not a whore," she said softly. "Whores get paid."
"Kyle's my boss. Technical y, he's paying me."
She looked thoughtful. "You're right. You
are
a dirty whore."
"I love how Lafayette is always cal ing someone a bitch." I said, with a mouthful of ice-cream.
Donya was doing homework on the living room floor while I had myself a
True Blood
marathon.
"Bitch, shut up. I'm doing my homework."
"Sookie's a pussy though. She's always screaming. Stop screaming, bitch!"
Donya gave me a death stare, so I didn't say anymore. She was in her final semester of school, majoring in business. Before starting col ege
three years before, she was a model. Not a smal time model, but a world class model. She's modeled for Versace, Oscar De Lorenta, Dior, Dolce
and Gabanna, Marc Jacobs, and more. She's been in al of the top magazines and even graced the cover of a few. D has been in movies and on
various television shows. She's been al over the world, has met and befriended al sorts of influential people and celebrities. She was the most
beautiful person I knew with her long legs, perfect, yet unusual face and chocolate brown skin.
An agent had found her on the boardwalk as she walked beside her ordinary, plain friend (me), eating cotton candy when we were only 15. The
agent said she even ate her cotton candy like a model.
I was lucky enough to go with her to Paris, London, or meet her in Italy or Australia, and of course at a few locations in the U.S like Hawaii or
L.A. She didn't always have time to actual y hang with me, and she was often overwhelmed, stressed out and frazzled or even down right
depressed. The designers were hel a picky and obnoxious a lot of the time, although they deserve to be. Their fashion was their art and it should be
displayed how they wanted it. One time a designer not to be named told her she looked bloated and fat and sent her off of the set. I had felt so bad
for her, but she shrugged it off and said it wasn't the worse thing that's been said to her.
On her 28th birthday, Donya stopped taking work. She finished any contracts and fol owed through on prior commitments, but hung up her
runway shoes when al was done.
"I want to quit while I'm stil good at what I do. I don't want to be a washed up has been." She explained on the phone to me from Japan.
"You lead such a fabulous life, though," I said.
"I lead a lonely life, E. I want to have a somewhat normal life. I want a family, a permanent home and a minivan."
I gasped. "Now you're going too far. A minivan? Unbelievable."
"I knew that would hit you hard. Anyway, I gotta go, but in a few months I wil be free and I get to spend more time with you and my family. Girl, I
even miss your nutty mama."
"Now I know that job is making you crazy. Cal me when you get to India."
That was three years ago. D had earned enough money to take care of herself for a very long time, but she was frugal with it, and stil worked
part time. She found the man of her dreams, Jerry who happened to be a major league basebal player. They lived wel below their means, stayed
under the radar, which was admirable. They agreed that when they started having kids, they would buy the big house and big cars. They lived a fairy
tale life, like my parents and siblings.
There was a knock at the door. Donya looked at the door as if just by looking at it the person on the other side would go away. When the knock
came again, I said "I don't think they can feel your death stare through the door."
She threw down her pencil and got up to open the door. "Get your boots off my table," she told me before opening the door.
I was wearing a black skirt and a pair of Louis Vuitton boots, taken from D's closet. So technical y, she wanted
her
boots off of her table. I
wanted to live another day, so I didn't argue the particulars.
"Hi, Donya?" I heard Kyle's voice. I froze with the spoon in my mouth. "I'm Kyle. Is Em here?" He sounded real y hopeful.
I was hoping that she would say no and slam the door in his face. Instead she said "How did you get my address?"
"Samantha Grayne."
"Son of a bitch." Donya stomped away from the door, but left it wide open. She snatched her cel off of the coffee table and quickly found the
number she was looking for. "Sam! Why are you giving my address out to complete strangers?" She yel ed at my mom. "I don't care if he's the
pope!
I
don't know him!"
She walked out of the living room, arguing with my mom like I would. Donya was an extension of my family, so there was nothing disturbing
about her behavior towards my mom. If circumstances were different I would have laughed, but as it was, Kyle was standing before me. I stil had
the stupid spoon in my mouth.
He didn't say anything, but he sat down on the couch next to me. He took the spoon from my mouth, put it in the bowl I was holding and put them
on the coffee table. Before I could object, he kissed me. I jerked away before I could fal under his spel .
"You can't hurt me like that and then make it up by kissing me." I said bitterly.
"I'm sorry." He whispered and kissed me again. I pul ed away again.
"No, Kyle! Go home. Go back to Jess."
He winced, but didn't back away.
"Fine.
I'll
leave." I jumped off of the couch before he could stop me. "D I'm leaving!" I cal ed out.
She came out of her room, stil holding the phone. She and Kyle both watched me as I cursed trying to get into my jacket and dug out my keys.
"I'l get my stuff later." I told her.
As I opened the door, I heard her ask Kyle "Where the hel is she going?"
"I don't know."
I slammed the door and ran to my car. As I pul ed away, I was surprised that Kyle had not come out behind me. I sped through Cherry Hil , intent
on going home but reconsidered and took a detour.
I was feeling so angry and the pain from our argument also felt fresh. I was feeling such a broad range of emotions, I thought I was losing my
sanity.
How dare he think he can make up with me so easily! What made him think that I would just let it go and fal back into his arms? And to track
me down and come to Donya's door - what bal s!
Life would be so much easier if I just let him go.
I didn't have to wait for him as long as I thought I would. He must have known that I wouldn't go home, because he walked through the door of his
apartment only a few minutes after me.
I had parked in the visitor's area, not far from his parking space, but he would never think to look for my car here. I have had a key to his
apartment since soon after I started working for him. He had left his briefcase at home and was in an important meeting. I had to go get it for him.
After that, he made sure I had a key and every now and then I would have to use it.
He didn't notice me right away. He put his keys down on the table by the door and took his coat off. I came out of the dark kitchen and into the