Fuck!!!" I screamed as I shot out of bed. When I opened my blurry eyes, it took approximately 45 seconds for my sleep-addled brain to process the fact that it was 11:15 and my shift started at 10:45. I had an ungodly amount of missed calls from my coworkers and my manager.
I knew this time there would be consequences. I've done this a handful of times, and I'm frequently running five to ten minutes behind. But I've been talked to already and I had promised to get it together.
Things got worse when I finally got there at noon and I realized the owner, Denise, was there.
"Fuck." I muttered to myself as I switched my car into park and made my way inside.
Sarah was her normally cheery self, I noticed as I shoved my bag into the locker and started frantically tying my apron around my waist. I apologized profusely despite her calm energy. She had a few tables and half the rail was full, but she assured me that she was fine and luckily it wasn't a super busy morning.
I began working, business as usual, despite my anxiety. I really didn't want to lose this job. My coworkers, and even my managers, have adopted me into their beautiful little family. I've never met a group of people so similar and different from me at the same time. We all worked together, and shared our life struggles amongst each other, seamlessly. I felt blessed to have been brought into such a tight knit circle. My feelings of being an outsider left long ago.
Almost as long as it had been since I spent time with…him.
I was punching in a food order into one of the tablets when Patricespoke to me from behind the bar as she was filling a couple pounders with Mac & Jacks.
"Hey, I have a question for you." She said as she made quick work of filling the beer.
"Yes?" I ask sheepishly.
"Do you like your job?" She asked directly.
Oh fuck, here it comes. "I do. Very much. I'm really sorry about this morning. I just moved and I can't find my wall alarm clock, but I'm going to buy a new one after work today. It will not happen again." I rattled off quickly. My tone revealed my mounting anxiety.
She ignored my rambling. "Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were happy. I'd be really sad if you were gone."
"Oh believe me, so would I." I said back to her and we both went our separate ways. It seemed genuine, but it also seemed like an underlying threat. I wasn't sure what to make of the interaction, it stressed me out to near tears.
A little while later I got a call from my manager.
"Hey." She said.
"Hey." I responded back, my normally cheerful way of speaking to her was as monotoned as it gets.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
My voice cracked a little. "Nothing."
"I can hear it in your voice." She declared.
See how close we've gotten? "It's nothing. I'm good" I lied.
"Are you just upset you were late when Patrice was there?" She nailed it, but it was the conversation that had me feeling worse.
"Yes." Was all I said.
"I get it. As long as Miley is on board with opening, we are going to switch you to nights on Monday, Kym. This isn't a punishment, it just needs to look like we are taking action since this isn't the first time this has happened." She explained.
There was no anger in her voice. Gia is the most understanding manager in the world. Shes become way more than a manager to me in many ways. I love, care and respect this woman immensely. She's aware of all of her employees' shortcomings. She knows my tardiness is really the only negative thing about me, at least from a professional standpoint. I work my ass off with a smile on my face. I pick up shifts, I stay late, I am thorough, and customers seem to like me. My coworkers respect my work ethic. I've made my name, paid my metaphorical dues.
"Okay." I said in response. "I understand."
"Okay. Don't worry dude. Everything is okay. I'll let you know when I hear back from Miley." She promised.
"Sounds good." I said.
"Alright, talk to you later." She said with a hint of concern remaining in her voice, and clicked off after I said goodbye.
I carried on with my day in dread. Until I realized…maybe the only reason Mazen and I haven't reconnected is because the opportunity has not existed. Only reason it was there before was because we were short staffed and I had to work doubles every Monday. Eventually, Miley got pulled from pull tabs because she made too many mistakes (at least that's what the rumor mill was saying), and took over serving Monday nights. Our only crossing of paths occurred on Monday mornings. I still avoided him, and many times I was too busy to even think about striking up a conversation. I was reduced to occasionally, longingly watching him set up the stage from afar.
He sporadically came on Tuesday mornings as well, but that was to have breakfast with his mom. Most of the time in the office, out of sight from my hungry eyes.
One time he came in on a Saturday night and sat in my section, but he also had two tables worth of people with him. He ordered a steak and one guiness (or was it Irish death?). I asked him three times if he wanted anything else before I felt like I was being annoying and stopped asking.
He showed up after most of his friends, and left before they did. When he asked for his tab, which was a little more than $30, he gave me a $50 bill and told me to keep the change. I was grateful for the tip, as serving his friends wasn't the easiest experience. Most of the time they didn't hear or notice me when I checked on them, leading them to go to the bar for more than one round. I'm pretty soft spoken for the most part, especially when I am nervous or intimidated. If I ask a table if they're doing okay and stand there for longer than 15 seconds without being acknowledged, I assume they're doing fine and unwilling to stop conversations to make me aware of that fact. So I just walk away and take a mental note to check back sooner than I would for tables that I gave a refill or another drink to.
I was scolded the next day for charging him.
"Mazen does not pay for food, anytime you serve him you need to grab a manager to comp his meals for you." Ms. Debbie, the queen of nit picking herself, informed me. She was the biggest thorn in my side when I first started, but she grew to love and accept me the same as everyone else. She even told me she called me her 'superstar' to Denise. It warmed my heart, I didn't realize how much I was dying for her approval until I finally got it.
I already knew he didn't pay for food, but I was busy that night and he didn't say anything about it when I gave him his tab…so I let it ride. What's $50 to the prince of the bar?
This was the first time in months her voice took on that disapproving tone it once always held when she spoke to me. It made me sad, I felt like I fucked up in a big way. But the next day she resumed giving me loving hugs and speaking kindly, like my little lapse of protocol never happened. Thank god, I loved Ms. Debbie.
Other than these brief interactions, the opportunity to actually hang out like we did that beautiful Monday night never again presented itself.
The idea of a beautiful Monday reminded me of my 28th birthday, it was May 21st, a Monday. I already felt special due to a couple coworkers coming in on their day off to give me gifts, but the best gift I received came in the form of two words from the prince himself.
I was heading back to the bar after dropping some drinks at games 5. Looking him up and down as he sat at games 3 (the pull tab table), I was surprised he was looking at me too when my eyes finally met his.
"Happy birthday," he said with the sexiest smile, in the most alluring deep voice I could imagine.
It made me wonder if someone told him or if he saw it on Facebook. He friended me online long before we ever played darts together. It blew my mind when it happened, but my coworkers assured me this was normal. Mazen liked to keep an eye on the people working for his parents, so he eventually requested every new employee, I was told. I was not special.
Anyways, back to my earlier thoughts, I was also so wrapped up in the walking disaster that was my boyfriend—yes we got back together—that I didn't have the urge to hang out at the bar after working all morning to get close to him.
But with Miley on days, and me back on nights…maybe this abrupt schedule change didn't need to fill me with self disappointment and shame. At least, not solely. I'd miss working solo with Lo, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this was my "in."
That this was my way back to getting close to…him.
A happy accident.
An accidental opportunity.
The rest of the week flew by, and although Hunter and I had established a routine in our new place that I was comfortable with and strongly attached to, I mused over the idea of fate, exciting chances, and change most of all.
Hunter had stopped cheating on me when I officially took him back. I did not take his word on his new found monogamy, as trust between us did not exist. I knew he was faithful because I had his spare phone that kept me updated with what should have been his personal world, in real time. Sometimes you have to lose something to realize how much it means to you, and he was willing to do whatever means necessary to get me back. This was a way for me to hold the power, and to know without a doubt he was keeping his insatiable dick where it belongs. You can't delete messages on a phone you don't have. Well, you actually can, but I switched off that setting.
However, he was still a blaring narcissist with substance abuse issues. We still fought almost everyday. Sometimes physical fights ensued, but I suffered mind breaking verbal abuse every time. It's like his goal when he's angry is to tear down everything about me, while playing on my biggest fears and insecurities.
The more drugs he did, the more unstable he became. And the more he lost himself to drugs, the more I wanted to follow suit. Why should I have to feel all the abuse he inflicted on me? I wanted to not care as much as he did. I wanted to turn my emotions off and focus on something else.
Eventually he discovered his liking for adderall was about the same as his liking for cocaine, and the combination was the worst thing that could have happened to our relationship. To our lives in general. Shit became a daily thing versus bi-weekly. If he didn't pop an addy, he'd do an entire gram and a half to himself. Every night he drank to come down. He became paranoid, lifeless, and boring. A tiny echo of the man I initially fell for. Albeit, the man I fell for was a lie…he was a tiny echo of that too.
After we were forced to move from the place I had called home since 2016 and got into a new one, it became glaringly unavoidable to see that I was not happy with life and our relationship. The desire to have sex with him left me long before this point, but now it was an actual hassle for me. An obstacle to hurdle before bed, when in the past it was the only thing we were good at.
"Good In Bed," by Dua Lipa was officially our anthem of the past.
Now, our relationship spurred no music to my mind.
I usually could always summon a song from the past to reflect my current feelings and events within my connections, but all I could hear in my head was a loud echo of white noise.
Music was special to me. Always has been. My brain had a knack for memorizing lyrics and deconstructing or twisting their meaning in order to relate them to my life. Listening helped me feel understood. So when my mind drew a blank for a song to score our relationship with, that's when I knew he was no longer "the one." He was just the current one, and I prayed that I'd fall in love with another one day. Or that I'd love myself again, and leave him for the peace of solitude.
The passion I once felt towards him was lost along with our anthem.
My mind ended it long ago, but my body remained by his side.
It was a bleak realization when only a year ago I was willing to destroy every moral and relationship I held sacred just to keep him. I effectively allowed him to become the center of my universe, like the sun. Only to discover I preferred nights. I lived by the moon.
I was in my 28th year of life, fully entering a premature existential crisis.
Why did this trauma bond keep me in chains?
Why did I remain content in comfort, resistant to life saving change?
What happened to the feelings of greatness I used to feel I was destined for?
Did they pass away along with my mother?
Did they wilt away like the leaves on my houseplants, through the seasons?
Did they slowly cool and die out, like the coals in a campfire?
I tried creating a family of my own and my body failed me. The thought made me briefly ponder if it was my body, or fate preventing me from procreation with the wrong mate.
I tried furthering my education, but it seems I was not meant for grad school as I was met with rejection.
I could have tried again, or picked a different grad program, but the only options were far away and I was not ready to leave everything I've ever known.
Over time, going back to school became more of a negative notion than a positive one. I already used up my dependent VA benefit allowance and I already racked up over 20,000 worth of student loans.
Besides, without my mother here to help me with the process of getting into school, I didn't feel like I could do it. I didn't even want to do it. I realized too late that she was the biggest factor in my motivation and educational drive. I wish I learned more from her while I still could.
So what am I meant to do?
Who am I meant to be?
Will I always lead this life of pointlessness?
Will I remain in a passionless relationship, because as humans we are supposed to have a person?
Will my legacy be a child, or a business?
Will I leave a legacy at all?
I wasn't sure. But tomorrow was Monday, and unlike the monotony that were the days prior, I was looking forward to my shift. In all honesty, I was giddy with excitement.
Interesting, I thought to myself. The mere thought of having the opportunity to converse with him again made me feel alive, when dead inside is all I've felt for months.
I had a lot on my mind (save existentialism, thank something for that) when I clocked out that evening. It was a slow shift so I had a lot of space for thinking. The fight I got into with Hunter before I left for work was replaying in my head.
Not because I truly cared about the fact that we were fighting, but due to the fact he called me a cunt before I started my work day.
How can someone that claims to love you say that before you leave them?
What if something happened and that was the last word he spoke to me?
How could he live with himself?
I bet he'd be upset for a few days, and then fully emerge himself in some of the worst things that exist in the world to feel better. My thoughts towards him took on a new level of disgust and resentment.
I also had some unwanted, suggestive interactions with regulars and ill feelings towards Ashley for not cutting off her tattoo artist. I told her he was fucked up, making a fool out of himself, using the girls' bathroom which lead to regulars getting pissy, but she didn't care. She supplied him with a fresh Rainier while I had to clean what I suspected was his cocaine induced nosebleed off of the girls bathroom sink.
Not the best of nights.
However, my goal of getting close to him again was still in full effect. My good friend Shawnia, girlfriend of a former security guard at TG, Terryl, had been working at TG for a while now. I couldn't help but think it was fate that Terryl and Mazen happened to be close friends, and Terryl began performing at open mic nights a few weeks prior. Shawnia always stayed after her shift to support her man. They were both very good people. Terryl and I had a good friendship and he offered me tons of advice when he was on shift with me in the past. Shawnia and I instantly connected while she was still just a customer. Her and her friend always flirted with me when I served them and I thought it was amusing. They were a table of opportunity to be myself versus on point and professional. Terryl and Shawnia both helped Hunter and I with the move a couple months prior. In fact, they were the only people that showed up to help us.
Because of them, I now had an excuse to continually be near Mazen. As each weird event of the night unfolded, I reported to Shawnia. Simultaneously, I stole glances and proximity, hoping I was leaving an opening for him to join the conversation.
Don't mistake my reporting to Shawnia as using her like a tool to build a bridge to Mazen. I would have reported to her with or without the presence of him there. That's just what girls who were friends did. Him being there was merely a bonus. I truly loved her, and we were fastly becoming close.
So close, in fact, that I confessed some of my indecent thoughts about our boss's son to her.
Like any other amazing best friend I've had in my life would do, she surprisingly planted naughty thoughts about me into his head while I was still working. Of her own accord.
"I told them that you showed me a titty earlier." She informed me with a devious look. We were out back, I was smoking a cigarette.
I started cracking up. Mostly amused, a little embarrassed. "No you didn't!"
"Yup, Mazen was definitely interested in this. Him and Terryl wanted to know what they were like. I said they were nice and that your nipples were pierced. You could totally tell Mazen was trying to imagine them after that because he got all quiet and stared into space for a minute." She grinned at me.
She reminded me of, well, me when I was younger. Always trying to please my friends in any way I could. With or without them asking me to. It was just something I've always done. I loved my people and I wanted to make them happy.
The idea of him thinking about me naked excited me so much I had to squeeze my legs together to get some relief from the sudden pulsing of my…lady parts.
"You just blurted it out?" I questioned. Doing that didn't seem subtle. He's smart and would probably suspect what Shania was doing.
"No. Terryl had asked me how my shift was, and I said it was slow. So slow that Kym showed me her titty." She explained with a triumphant smile. Wow. I am shocked. She really was just like me. Smart, loyal, subserving and even a little manipulative for the right cause. I loved her. I knew right then that without a doubt, she was someone I could trust.
"I fucking love you dude." I laughed and hugged her. We went back inside and I grabbed a drink before joining her at games 10. The same table Mazen had been hanging out at all night. I took the spot Terryl was in because he was on stage. The spot was closest to where Mazen stood, leaning against games 11. I was facing the stage, trying to give Terryl my total attention.
I couldn't see Mazen, but knowing he was mere feet behind me drew my mind away from the Jelly Roll song Terryl was singing. Divided attention was all I was capable of in that moment.
His presence demanded my focus. It called to me in a way I was unaccustomed to. I could almost hear his voice in my head saying, "turn around, look at me, gaze upon the being capable of making you ache in ways you've never known."
Of course he never said any of that.
No man even talks like that.
I knew he was smart and deep based on our one conversation, but I was imagining him like he was a character from a romance novel.
I was aware of it but there I continued to sit, way too still, building him up impossibly big in my mind.
I knew a character like Edward Cullen, or Christian Grey, didn't exist in real life.
Although, he nailed unintentionally, and irrevocably, attracting me like a moth to a flame.
Soon enough, Terryl's performance was over, which concluded this week's open mic night. Shania was leaving, and I should have left too, but I wasn't ready yet. I honestly wasn't going to try to get Mazen to hang out with me, I figured that I had reached my quota of being near the mouth watering man for the night. However, I couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to continue to be near him. Moth and flame, remember?
I knew it was self sabotaging, but I could not resist the allure of light…and hot, burning heat.
So while everyone left, I got up and had a smoke outside. After that, I grabbed another drink from the bar and headed over to pull tabs to try my luck. I contemplated where to sit. I felt that returning to the table directly in front of the stage would be weird. I didn't want him to feel forced to talk to me. So what did my genius mind come up with? Games 8. Directly on the side of the stage. I figured it wasn't as much pressure, and it tended to be the table a lot of us employees enjoyed sitting at because it was secluded from the rest of the dining room and out of sight from the pull tab bar. I determined it was the best course of action as I settled into a stool facing him. If he doesn't talk to me, at least I can watch his body move and muscles flex as he packs up his equipment. Yeah, the lack of subtlety was definitely worth it.
A somewhat older asian gal with a boy haircut who performed that night was hesitating near games 9, her focus set on Mazen. She almost seemed nervous to approach him. Was she another me? Hopeless and pining for the unattainable? I felt connected to her at that moment, and I knew she was a sweet lady, so I spoke. "You did a great job tonight." My compliment and accompanying smile was genuine. She didn't have years of experience built up in her vocal chords, so it wasn't a flawless performance. Regardless, she had a unique voice and the balls it takes to sing in front of people is all it takes to gain my admiration.
Her face lit up. "Really? Thank you so much! I feel like I messed up a lot, and I really need to learn more songs." Her face fell as she spoke.
"I didn't notice anything." I lied. "You were amazing, and any performance takes guts, so you earned my vote." I told the truth.
She said something else I didn't catch because I realized our conversation gained Mazen's attention.
My body responded but I tried to remain invested in the dialogue.
"I always thought you had a great voice when you used to sing karaoke every weekend, so I find it really cool that you've taken the next step up." I voiced. I felt like regardless of what she said, another compliment would be a safe response.
She seemed genuinely touched, and came over to the table. "Thank you so much. You've always been so nice to me, I really appreciate you saying that."
I smiled at her in return. "Of course. You've always been a pleasure to serve."
She smiled big and Mazen said something to her I didn't catch. I really needed to pull my head out of the gutter.
They talked about something for a minute and then Mazen spoke to me, "what about you? How are you doing?"
I felt my heart skip a beat. I took a sip of my drink before I responded. Thank something for liquid courage. "I'm okay." I sighed and looked to the ceiling. I didn't mean to sound like I was lying, but I was. I wasn't okay. My life, and consequently my mind, were a mess. One I did not know where to start cleaning.
"Really?" He challenged. "You seem stressed." He wasn't wrong.
"Yeah, I kind of have some shit going on but what's new?" I felt a little awkward. Not from nerves, but from him always seeming to see what was brewing under the surface.
How'd he do that?
He had begun coming closer to me, and I think the conversation made the girl (never got her name) feel even more awkward than me.
She let out a small goodbye and started in the direction of the door.
"Hey girl, keep doing what you're doing because what you're doing is awesome." I called after her.
She stopped and came up to give me a quick hug goodbye, and said, "thank you."
"No need to thank me, I'll see you soon I'm sure." I smiled at her as she started towards the door again.
"For sure!" She smiled and waved.
It dawned on me that now we were alone, and he had taken the seat across from me.
"So what's going on? Do you want to talk about it?" He seemed genuinely interested.
"Oh, I'm just going through it with my dude." I didn't want to talk about him, so I quickly added, "how are things with you and Miley?" Perhaps too quickly. I didn't mean for it to come across as hopeful that they were struggling too.
Of course they weren't though. "We're doing really well." He answered my question.
"By the way, I'm sorry, she was forced to switch me shifts…you probably would prefer your girl being here during open mic." I looked down from his intense stare as the words came out.
"Oh, I don't care about that. I see more than enough of her." He assured me.
This made my eyes find his again. Was that a bit of annoyance I heard in his tone or am I just making things up?
I let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But seriously, I'm pretty disappointed in myself that she had to do that for me."
"Disappointed because you can't get up in the morning?" He said with certainty.
"How do you know that?" I was shocked. Miley didn't even know the reason behind the switch I didn't think. If she did, I didn't think she'd find it necessary to tell him that. Who cared about my fuck ups?
"I know everything that happens around here." He arched a cute eyebrow. His look said he disapproved of my shortcomings.
"Oh…well, yeah. I struggle to get out of bed sometimes. It's not even laziness, I tend to turn off my alarms on my phone in my sleep. The only thing that gets me up is my wall alarm clock, which got lost in the move." I explained, I'm not sure why I felt the need to defend myself.
"That means you aren't getting enough sleep." He pointed out.
"You're right. I have a lot of trouble falling asleep at night." I said.
"Why?" He was giving me those soul penetrating eyes again.
It wasn't long before I had to look away so I could speak. "Because I can't turn my brain off and I end up tossing and turning for hours. Sometimes it's just random things replaying over and over again. Other times it's a never ending to do list, and with each task I get more and more stressed." I hesitated before adding, "Sometimes it's because I am fixated on some…thing." Someone is what I really meant, but I returned his eye contact as I spoke and the intimidation made me lose my nerve.
He shook his head in understanding. I briefly wondered what he would have said if I said what I really meant, and followed it up with a pointed look.
I didn't think the risk was worth it.
I seemed to lose time whenever I was with him. Before I knew it we had already been talking for an hour, and the booze made me crave a cigarette.
When we walked outside, the topic of conversation switched to one of danger. His current philosophical debate encompassed whether he wanted to be married at all, and if he thought he was meant to have more than one wife.
Before we arrived here, he spoke notions that angered the semi-feminist within me. His opinion of women was not very high, and he was very much cemented to the 1950's traditional gender roles. At one point, he actually said, "I think women these days are out of control."
It wasn't in line with the image I fabricated of him. But he was still extremely hot and easy to talk to…and nobody is perfect. My mind was also very wide open, and I placed value in being a stay at home mother myself. I just could have done without the idea that my independence and rights were somewhat undeserving, for lack of a better word. I could have done without the feeling of him wanting society to oppress me further. And I could have done without knowing he wanted a virgin and found the idea of a woman remaining abstinent for her one true love extremely desirable. "Hoe phases" made no sense to him, and was not comparable to a man sleeping around by any means.
"A man could sleep with 100 women, and if pregnancy occurs there's no doubt who the father is." He proclaimed. "But if a woman sleeps with 100 guys, there's 100 different possibilities of who the father could be. Women should not be promiscuous for this very fact."
Either way both the man and the woman are slutty. I kept the thought to myself.
I didn't want to come off as a person that felt the need to argue against every conflicting viewpoint a person holds.
Plus, he didn't seem like the type of man who changed his mind about shit he feels passionate about very often.
Though I took a mental note to bring up this topic of conversation again, at a later date, when I felt more comfortable challenging him.
Again I found myself lost in my mind while I watched his lips move, I didn't realize another subject shift.
"Never once have I thought pulling out and busting on a girl's chest would feel better than just coming inside of her. That was created for other reasons." I was stunned by his words. Is he trying to turn me on or was it just a coincidental side effect of his line of thinking?
He added, "not to be too graphic…" with an apologetic look when he caught the look on my face.
"…is the innate instinct to procreate. Wouldn't you rather your daughter choose one mate you know can take care of her and the baby to reproduce with; versus sleep with a bunch of random pieces of shit?" I tuned into his question late but I caught the jist of what he was saying.
"Of course I would. But the issue arises when a girl thinks she's found her mate, but turns out he was playing with her feelings the entire time." I explained, momentarily flashing through every heartbreak I've experienced.
We continued on this topic for a while, before speaking on the notion of having multiple wives. I didn't take it seriously, but I imagined Miley and I sworn to the same man anyway. I had to shake off the uncomfortable thoughts before we headed back inside.
"Miley would deal with whatever I want." He declared after I asked him how she would react to him wanting to keep more than one woman. "Find somebody better." He shrugged.
It was hard to find him egotistical. Hard to see the grandiosity laced into his words when…well when he's right. He said he is loyal to her, helps her through her trauma, takes care of her, and that no one has ever treated her as well as he has. If all that is true, she'd have a very rough time finding something better than all Mazen has to offer.
For a second I pitied her. I felt bad for thinking of her man the way that I do. The feelings disappeared, however, when Zack joined our conversation at the table.
"I'd let Jordan call me whatever she wanted to. She could call me her bitch and I wouldn't get upset." Zack said with pride.
Mazen chuckled. "Miley and I don't have that. She'd get bent over real quick."
"Lucky girl." I breathed, fully intending on him not hearing me.
I was embarrassed when he repeated the sentiment to me in amusing curiosity, "lucky girl?" He chuckled again.
I'm glad my comment amused him but I was serious. She is lucky. So very fucking lucky.
Why did I pity her only moments ago? She had him…there was nothing to pity. Besides, even if she didn't, she was beautiful and athletic. She'd have no problem finding another man. He may not be better than Mazen, but most men weren't. Shit, we could swap…? I remember that day Hunter came in for pull tabs and I picked up on Miley's flirtatious vibe towards him. It was so strong, in fact, I felt the need to introduce him as mine.
Zack changed the subject and at some point left the conversation. We were both surprised when we heard the yell for last call.
"Jesus, we have been sitting here and talking forever." I said, checking my phone.
"Yeah we have," looking around at the chairs quickly being stacked on top of the tables.
"So what happened with your boyfriend?" He asked me.
"He called me a cunt before I left for work." I admitted.
He looked genuinely disgusted by the revelation.
I began to explain how verbally abusive he was and eventually I admitted things sometimes got physical too.
This made his eyebrows rise in surprise.
I had started to tear up when I was explaining the abuse. Tears were now rolling down my face and were impossible to hide.
"Please don't tell anyone about this." I didn't mean to tell him, it just came out. It's like he draws the truth out of me, even the truth I didn't want him to know.
He nodded his head in allegiance, and I knew I could trust him.
I groaned. "Fuck I cry every single time we talk! It's so annoying." I wiped my tears.
I checked the time, 1:20 am.
"I should…go." I said.
"Okay." He looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle in my eyes.
I stood up, and he followed suit.
"Thanks for chatting." I leaned in for another one of those hugs, but my emotions dampened the exchanging of sparks. I felt embarrassed by my emotions. The urge to lighten the mood overwhelmed me. "And hey, let me know about the sister wives thing. Maybe I'll submit an application." I resisted the urge to make my fingers into a gun pointed at him, wink, and make that clicking noise with my mouth.
I think my comment was not what he was expecting. I saw his eyebrows shoot up. But he quickly recovered with a small chuckle, and said "okay," amusement alight in his voice.
I shook my head as I walked away. What the fuck was I thinking saying that? How could he possibly ignore that blatant pass?
Whatever. He seemed to take it pretty well. Maybe he would actually entertain the idea of me as another wife. I was pretty attractive, so why not?
I debated the entire way home, but finally I got the nerve to type out a message to him. I was in the middle of a "thank you for hanging out/sorry I got weird and emotional" sort of message…but I accidentally hit send before I was ready. I sent another message explaining I didn't mean to hit send yet. I was typing a third--an ending to the first--when I lost all my nerve. How did this man make me so unsmooth even through the goddamn phone?
I held down on each message and hit unsend for everyone. I hoped when he saw I unsent something, he'd pretend like it didn't happen. Our second conversation brought us close enough to where I didn't think he'd think I was weirdly harassing him or anything…would he?
Oh god, what did I do? The question tortured me all night until thoughts of him turned from anxious…to sexual.
I drifted off to sleep in our make believe post-cotial bliss.