Authors: Tessa Saks
A scalding heat and
hot liquid ran down her arm, interrupting her pleasurable thoughts. “What the
fuck?” Sam cried out.
“Sorry,” said the
man who burned Sam with his clumsiness. He dabbed her arm with small paper
towels that stuck to her wet skin, the pain heightened by his insistent
rubbing. She took her sunglasses off and tried to pick off the soggy remnants.
“Stop it!” she screamed, as she pushed the stupid idiot’s hands out of her way.
“Are you burned?” he
asked as Sam pressed her hand to arm.
“Yes! Thank you very
much!” she barked. “It’s sore, but I’ll live,” she said as she turned to leave,
bumping against the caffeinated mob on her way out.
“What are you doing
here? Following us?”
Sam tried to ignore
the familiar voice trailing her, but she felt a firm hand grab her tender arm.
“Owww!” she cried, pulling her arm free.
Rory looked at her.
“You know you’re not allowed near—”
“I don’t know what
you’re talking about. I came here for a latte, before some moron burned my
arm—the one you are now hurting, asshole.”
Rory’s eyes searched
hers for a moment before letting go of her arm.
She tried a softer
tone. “Rory, I do want to talk to you sometime. I just need—”
“That’s not a good
idea.”
“Are you happy?” Sam
asked, unable to refrain herself.
“Wha
…
yes, yes I’m happy.”
“How is Rufus
Maximus?”
He looked puzzled.
“Good,” he said in a slow, cautious tone.
“I still remember
the day you found him and brought him home, so small and afraid of everything—a
little wet ragamuffin, remember?”
“Your private eye is
very thorough.” He smiled at her. His sexy inviting smile.
“Can I call you
sometime? I miss you.”
Big mistake
. Sam covered her mouth, instantly
regretting her words and wanting to take them back.
Rory’s eyes darkened
as the smile vanished from his face. “I’m going to ignore that.”
Sam felt the salty
sting of tears filling her eyes. She tried holding them back. “I—if I could
just explain. If you would just let me
…”
Rory shook his head
and turned away. He stopped, then turned back to face Sam. “I’m sorry that you
feel this way. Honestly, I am—but I have nothing I want to talk to you about.”
“She’s still seeing Johnny.
She’s taking him from me.” Sam wiped her eyes. “She’s the one who’s crazy. She
lost him and now she’d do anything—can’t you see, she is not me.” Sam’s voice
cracked as she yelled. “She’s an impostor!”
Rory put his hands
up, blocking himself in case she lunged at him. He stepped back. “Listen, you’d
better leave and calm down. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”
Sam grabbed a
serviette from a table, dabbing her cheeks and eyes. “She’ll never be me. Watch
her. She can’t. You should notice—of all the people in the world—you should
know the difference. You should know she’s not me!” Sam cried out to his back
as he walked away. “She’ll never be me
…”
she whispered to herself as she turned to leave. “Never.”
She was about to
leave when live jazz music began to play. She looked in the direction of where
the music was coming from and noticed the small group of musicians creating the
funky rhythm. Above their heads were large paintings. Sam scanned the room,
spotting many similar-styled large paintings. She walked up to one and touched
the textured canvas. The signature, a sloppy looped R blending into a C. She
knew the artist’s work and wasn’t surprised by the name posted on the tags.
Rory Chasen. Her heart beat fast with excitement.
Rory finally has a solo
show.
She wanted to run up
to him, throw her arms around him and squeeze him with pride. He finally did
it. She wasn’t sure what was better, seeing his incredible talent or knowing
that he completed his pieces and was finally satisfied enough with them to
show, to share them with the world. This was a big step, an important step for
his confidence. She imagined the pride he must have felt seeing his work
completed, all the pieces lined up inside his tiny studio.
She looked around,
for one last glimpse of his work, when she caught his eye. She gave him a
double thumbs-up flick, something they always did to each other to signal, “Way
to go.”
Suddenly aware of
her instinctive error, she turned and quickly ran outside, afraid of any
further consequences and pain. As she walked down the street, she had mixed
feelings. She wished she could be celebrating his success with him; instead,
she was heading home to an empty house, filled with servants and pretty things,
but devoid of any love or life.
***
Ellen stood outside
of Horvath Industries waiting for Jonathan’s car and reflecting on her
experience with Rory. She blushed every time she remembered her rapture. Now
that she felt more comfortable in her sexuality, more alive, she had called
Jonathan, wanting to see him, to try to seduce him. She wanted a chance to show
him how much he was missing by spending all his time with his wife. Ellen had
picked up the phone and ordered a box of his favorite cookies, and inside the
box, a simple message: “I miss you.”
Later that morning,
Jonathan phoned her. “Let’s meet for lunch,” he said. “My car will pick you up
on the corner at ten after twelve.”
Ellen stood waiting,
hoping no one would spot her getting into his car. She could feel her heart
beating stronger with nervous energy. His car pulled around the corner, slowing
to the curb. Ellen ran to the car as the door opened slightly and climbed
inside, adrenaline pulsing through her. She enjoyed being discreet. Jonathan
closed the door and sat back with a wide grin.
“I feel like a spy,”
she said, as she shimmied closer to him.
He laughed. She
enjoyed seeing him relaxed and smiling again. He reached for her hand and
kissed it. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
“Me too.” She leaned
over to kiss him and show her appreciation.
“I’m sorry about
ruining our weekend,” Ellen said, after finally coming up for air.
“Never mind. I
forgive you.” He leaned over and kissed her again. They kissed all the way to
the restaurant until the car stopped.
“A fast-food
drive-through?” She stared out in disbelief.
“Yes, more private.
I still have to be careful. Not quite what you had in mind?”
“No. I expected
linen tablecloths and fine dining.”
“Sorry princess,
next time.” He pulled her close again, kissing her with deep passionate kisses.
After several minutes, they stopped to give Weston their lunch order. Ellen
looked at the choices, unable to find anything to eat. “I can’t believe they
can’t make anything that isn’t dripping in fat. They must want to make me fat.”
“I don’t think you
need to worry, my dear,” Jonathan said, pinching her thigh.
Ellen realized how
it sounded. “Will I get to see you soon?” she asked, pulling away.
Jonathan sat back,
now serious. He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know. God, she’s just
so—” He pounded the door with his fist. “Damn this!”
Ellen put her hand
on his thigh and tried to appear sympathetic. “What is it?”
A tap at the window
interrupted them, with Weston holding their lunch order. Jonathan opened the
window. “Thanks, Weston.” As the window closed, Weston went into the restaurant
and Jonathan continued. “It’s Ellen. She’s driving me insane. She watches my
every move. She mopes around and then goes into fits of madness. She stopped
doing everything she used to love—no more church or gardening, no more charity
work. She’s a completely different person.”
“I bet you miss the
old Ellen, huh?”
“And she’s shopping
like I’ve never seen—I’ve never seen the likes of it—she’s out of control, as
if she’s lost her mind. And the children are embarrassed by her crazy antics.
They can’t understand what’s gotten into her.”
“What does the
doctor say?”
Jonathan laughed,
shaking his head. “That I should humor her, indulge her. She’s spending a
bloody fortune, the bills are just starting to arrive—I think he’s in on it
with her. She’s had every kind of cosmetic surgery she could get—if he hadn’t
stopped her due to her medications, she’d probably look like a circus freak.”
Ellen choked on her
burger. She coughed several times until Jonathan handed her a drink and patted
her back. “You okay? Here take another sip.”
“Y
…
Yes. Surgery? What exactly? I’m
surprised—at her age.”
“New breasts,
liposuction. Hell, I don’t know.”
“Breasts!” Ellen
cried out.
“Yes, horrible
things. It’s all wrong, as if someone put the wrong parts on her body. Some
parts are old and other parts are new—I can’t explain, but it’s weird, to say
the least.”
“I just
…
I can’t imagine. I can’t believe
…”
Ellen tried to calm herself. It
wasn’t her body anymore, not actually—but still! How could she do that? It
wasn’t right, not for a woman her age. “Does she—does she look good?”
“Good?” Jonathan
pinched her arm. “Are you jealous?”
Ellen pulled away. “Of
course not. It’s just
…
you see
so much of her and I never see you, I wondered
…”
Jonathan touched her
cheek. “Hey, listen, I miss you. I still want to be with you. It’s just that
she can’t be pushed back into another state like before, I have to be extra
kind to her and indulge her. I’m asking you to still be patient—for me.”
Ellen gazed at his
pleading eyes and melted. She touched his cheek. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Forever, my love?”
he asked.
“It better not take
forever!” She slapped his face gently. “There
are
other men out there.”
His smile faded.
“Have you been dating?”
Ellen flushed. “No.”
She looked away, her face burning. “How can you say that?”
“I don’t want to
share you,” he confessed.
“Then see me. Take a
chance and be naughty.” Ellen rested her hand on his thigh again. “There must
be a way. You’ve always been good at being sneaky
…”
Jonathan smiled and
lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll come up with something—maybe
another business trip. She’s having more work done to the house and she’ll have
to stay and supervise while they are doing all the construction.”
“The house! What is
she doing to our
…
the house?”
Jonathan laughed.
“What isn’t she doing to the house? That’s more the question. She’s gotten rid
of most of the furniture, replaced with some god-awful junk. Contemporary—no,
postmodern is what she calls it. I call it crap. It’s awful.”
“No! Not the
…”
Ellen bit her lip. “Not the
antiques you loved so much.”
“Yes, most of them.
I never actually thought she would change everything. The doctor said that I
should encourage her. I should have cut her off financially is what I should
have done. The changes are costing a bloody fortune.”
Ellen thought of her
home, of all the beautiful pieces, chosen over years—no—decades. Just imagining
any changes was heartbreaking. “What’s left—I mean, what’s still the same?”
Jonathan shook his
head. “Not much really.”
“Everything
changed?” Ellen cried out. “ Just like that?”
“You should see it.
It’s hideous. She said she hired a decorator—I don’t know, it looks awful. I
can’t imagine they get paid for making such a mess.”
“She is crazy, isn’t
she?” She shook her head, imagining what damage the idiot had done.
Jonathan laughed.
“You don’t know the half of it. She hosted a dinner party two weeks ago. What a
complete disaster. I don’t think the Rosenthals or the Zieglers will ever
accept another one of our invitations—or even want to be seen with us, for that
matter.”
“Oh, God no!” The
blood drained from her face and her stomach cramped, as she imagined the
reaction of her friends. She pushed her unappetizing food aside. “You had the
Zieglers over? And with her so crazy—oh no. You have to fix it.” She couldn’t
hide her anxiety.
“Too late. She has
alienated herself from most of society with her bizarre behavior.”
“But your
reputation, she’s destroying all that we—that you built.” She folded her arms
over her chest, holding herself together from shock. Her limbs felt numb, her
stomach nauseous and churning. “All that prestige; you can’t get it back.”
Jonathan shook his
head. “No. She’s destroying everything she built up for herself. I think she’s
hurting herself far worse than me. She was the one so consumed by all these
people. Frankly, I never cared about any of them. I went along—it was fun at first,
but then I got tired of all of it. I wanted to be free from it. That’s what I
love about you.” He ran his fingers along her shoulder. “You don’t need all of
that. You are happy just like this, here. I could never eat here with Ellen.
She’s too good for a place like this, and she’d find fifty reasons not to enjoy
it.”
Ellen’s skin
tightened. “Isn’t there some way to stop her? She sounds unstable. If she’s
destroying the very things that matter, can’t you stop her before she ruins
everything?”
Jonathan was about
to take a bite but stopped and put his burger down. “I could have her
committed, get an assessment.”
“Yes, why don’t you?
Then we could be—”
He laughed. “I was
kidding. I would never do that to her,” he said and bit into his burger.
“Besides, as long as she doesn’t show signs of hurting anyone, there isn’t much
I can do.”
“There must be
something. She’s out of control. You said it yourself—spending money, plastic
surgery, crazy decorating—”
Jonathan laughed.
“If that’s all it takes to lock up your wife, half of the women in New York
would be locked up by now.”