Cheater

3. Chloe

“He’s right,” Alannah says, after flashing a smile at the bartender who hands us each another drink. “Thanks, Alex.”

“My pleasure, Alannah,” he replies, flirtation clear. He instantly strikes me as the type that would flirt with anyone and everyone to boost his chances of getting a better tip.

Her eyes bounce back to me. “Best to find out now if you can live with life as it is before you put on the one and only white dress.”

I give her a pointed look as I stir my drink with the plastic stir stick.

“You said you only wanted to wear the dress once. No, not said it, swore it.”

She’s right about that.

“Besides,” she continues, “You were worried about a boring-ever-after with Adam. This solves that problem. You’ve got a free pass to get all the kinky sex you want. Bright side?”

I just about choke on my tongue as I shoot her my best effort at an evil eye.

The fact that I bitched about our sex life being repetitive and vanilla one time, not long after we got engaged, feels like forever ago. Things were so much simpler then.

“I certainly did not refer to my relationship as a boring ever after.”

“It’s what you meant, though,” she says, then takes a long sip.

I’ve just spewed a long monologue at her with all my feelings about Adam’s hall pass idea, including telling her about the vibrator incident and the crying myself to sleep, and him turning his head away when I tried to slip him the tongue. How I can’t even make a dirty joke around him these days. How I feel like a sexual deviant. How he barely even looks at me and when he does, I know he doesn’t see me. I told her I look at him sometimes and get a big burst of affection, but I’m afraid to show it to him and get rejected. I’m feeling like the maid more than the fiancée.

As mortifying as it was to spill all that, I feel a little lighter, like I needed to get it out. Alannah has always been here for me, but I’ve been clammed up about life in general since the last several months have been so overwhelming.

“And it’ll let him know if he can handle it, too,” she adds.

“Yep. If I actually did go through with it, which I’m still not sure I could ever… it might be okay with me, but it might not actually be okay with him after all.”

“Mm,” she agrees, taking a sip.

“I mean… I don’t even think I can,” I whisper. “That’s not me. A hall pass. An unemotional hookup. Like… what?” I laugh.

She doesn’t laugh. “This could be a good place to sample your potential future,” she jerks her chin toward the space at large.

I scrunch up my nose.

She wiggles her blonde eyebrows.

“Not tonight,” I say.

“Tonight,” she corrects. “It’s perfect. He’s not expecting you home tonight, so…”

I scoff. “As if I can go from planning a lifetime of commitment to one man, a man who had his whole life blown apart, to fucking a stranger I meet in a bar just like that?” I snap my fingers. “I know it’s too much to ask that he factor intimacy into our relationship with all he’s gone through, but I can’t help but wish–”

“That he’d still wanna rock your world? Of course. And it’s not too much to ask, Chlo. This didn’t just happen. It’s been over half a year.”

“I don’t just need mind-blowing orgasms, Lan. I can get by for now with hand-holding and cuddling. Forehead kisses and for him to look at me like… like I’m more than his caregiver. He’s needed my help so much that I know it’s changed the way he looks at me.”

“You poor thing. Hate to say this, but Chloe… maybe it’s better if you do this and he decides he can’t live with it. Or if you do this and you decide it’s time to move on. On your own.”

“Don’t say that,” I breathe. “I love him. He didn’t deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve me abandoning him. Seven months isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things.”

“Babe.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “No, he didn’t deserve to lose the use of his legs. But, you’re loyal to a fault. Not a lot of girls would even hesitate before taking him up on his offer. In fact, a lot of girls might not have stuck around. I don’t know if I could’ve.”

“He’s Adam,” I say, feeling protective over him. “Everyone loves him.”

He’s a good guy. He’s the first person to help someone in a crisis. He’s funny and fun to be around. He’s competitive in a sporty way and the type to encourage others to do their best. A cheerleader and motivator. He was a good boyfriend before all this pulled the rug out from under him. He didn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of it. I’m about to choke up. I push it away.

“And,” I add, “His penis isn’t a sex organ anymore. He has to catheterize multiple times a day. He doesn’t have any sensation in it, doesn’t have any urges whatsoever. He does a daily routine to train his bowels to empty at the same time every day, but he has to wear an adult diaper, Alannah, just in case.”

She winces. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Everything below the waist is a chore for him. Moving his body without controlling his lower extremities. He even had to deal with colostomy bags in the early days of recovery.

“I’ve been feeling so guilty for the past three weeks about pulling out that vibrator. I’m such an asshole.”

“You’re not,” she tells me, jiggling my hand. “It’s been hundreds of days, Chlo. Your life has been on hold. You’ve lived and breathed for him for all this time. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting handholding and forehead kisses and to be told your ass looks great today, which it does.”

I roll my eyes.

“We both know you, though. You really want him to kiss your forehead just ahead of giving you a hand necklace while railing you against a wall. Or… what was that fantasy you told everyone about that night at the campground? The 24/7 total power dynamic for a weekend thing? And he never did any of that. He looked like he wanted to clutch his pearls when you suggested it. He’s Mister Vanilla. No, more like Mister baked potato without butter, salt, or pepper. Now’s your chance to get yourself a loaded baked potato. Sour cream. Cheese. Bacon and chives. All kinds of butter. The works. I know… join that hookup app for kinky people.”

I snicker derisively. Adam talking about being unable to keep up with me was sobering. And I know he was embarrassed when we went on that group camping trip last summer and played drunken truth or dare around the fire. He muttered, “Grow up, Chloe” instead of getting a hard-on and whisking me to our tent to dominate me. The next day he acted like nothing had happened but from then on, he seemed to get bitchy if I went beyond one or two drinks at a party, occasionally even asking me to remember to have some decorum.

“Imagine what’ll happen to you in ten years when you hit forty and your sexual peak? Imagine having no ability to do anything about it other than dream about it, fantasize about it while being afraid to even do something about it because you don’t want him to hear the buzzing?” Alannah raises her eyebrows pointedly.

I shake my head. “It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I was a little tipsy and I’d been reading something sexy that I wrote years ago on an old fantasy blog of mine, and it was an asshole move. Thinking he’d reach over and want anything to do with helping me come when his parts don’t work anymore? It was selfish. And probably insulting.”

“Stop it,” she hisses. “Don’t do that. You’re not an asshole and it’s not selfish to try to move forward with life after half a year, Chlo.”

I sigh.

“You are not an asshole,” she repeats firmly. “His fingers aren’t paralyzed. His tongue still works, right? He’s working again. He’s working out. He’s hanging with his boys. Playing fantasy football and telling jokes and dropping F-bombs on their Discord chat while playing video games with his buddies.”

“How do you know that?” Adam almost never drops F-bombs around me. He thinks it’s rude to swear around women. I asked him to dirty-talk when we first got together, and he told me it would be demeaning to me.

She shrugs. “I crashed at Craig’s the other night. Woke up at three in the morning and heard them talking on chat in the other room. He sounded like old Adam.”

I gasp. And she knows it’s because she spent another night with Craig, Adam’s best friend.

“Just a booty call.” She waves her hand.

Yeah. Booty call number five if I haven’t lost count.

“Could it be? Is my breast friend in danger of finding herself in a situationship?”

“Hush; this is about you. Adam is living life in his new life. It’s absolutely fair to expect forehead kisses and clit kisses and whatever else he can give you to make sure you’re fulfilled.”

I palm my face in exasperation. “Inside voice!”

“Sister, you’ve been his live-in nursemaid and chauffeur for months. Asking for more than a peck on the cheek from the man you’re planning to marry doesn’t make you an asshole. He’s given you permission to get your freak on, so now… let’s get this show on the road. You’re getting laid tonight.”

“No way. Shush.”

“Yes way,” she declares. “I can see you shaved your legs today. But what about your pits? Your hoo-ha?”

“I’ve kept up on the lady-scaping. Out of pure hope. All along. Nothing to do with the hall pass.”

“So, no baby unicorns need to die today. It’s been a genocide lately thanks to your dry spell. Let’s save some lives.”

“Stop it. You’re not the boss of my vagina,” I say, too loud, too.

She tries to fight off laughter while she sips her drink. I take a gulp of mine, followed by another gulp.

And now we’re exchanging looks loaded with feelings.

I look away so we don’t dissolve into puddles of emotion. If I shed a tear, she’ll bawl. If she does, I’ll bawl. It’s better we avoid eye contact for a minute.

“Seriously,” I go on, staring at my nails. “I just wanna celebrate with you tonight. Enjoy having my hair down for the first time in months. Have a girls’ weekend with zero stress. I’ll think on that hall pass stuff later. I just wanted to vent about it a bit; not act on it.”

“Well, I’m here any time. Sounds like you’ve been holding back on the venting, and you know that’s my job as your breast friend to be that ear, right?”

“Right. Ditto,” I say and give her a look, which she immediately reads.

“Craig’s just a booty call. He has a big dick and he doesn’t have any expectations, so it works.”

I raise my hands. “Fine, I’ll drop it.”

“And I’ll drop it about the hall pass too. But before I do… if you meet a hall pass contender tonight you could use it, couldn’t you?”

I massage my temples and sigh with exasperation.

She gets right up in my face. “Answer?”

“Technically, yes. And he wants me to. He gave me a list of guidelines. But I won’t. It’s too soon. I’m still processing. Personal bubble, sister.”

She takes a step back and smiles. “And what are these guidelines?”

“He doesn’t wanna know about it. Other than knowing I’m going to accept the offer, so it takes the pressure off him.”

“Which puts pressure on you. Man, he pisses me off sometimes.”

I freeze.

“Forget it,” she waves her hand. “Tell me the rest.”

“Um… he doesn’t want it to be anyone he knows. I also can’t use the hall pass on the same person twice.”

“He doesn’t want emotional attachments to happen,” Alannah surmises. “Makes sense.”

“And he doesn’t want it happening in our house, either.”

“Reasonable.”

“Can we drop it? I wanna have fun tonight and celebrate with you. I didn’t mean to hijack your celebration. I’d like to forget about all my drama for the night. Let’s let the rest of the night be about Alannah who just got well-deserved recognition in a male-dominated environment. Alannah, who I’m so, so proud of.”

“No problem.” She waves her hand. “I’m more than happy to be the center of the universe. But just sayin’… if you do happen to meet someone with Hall Pass potential tonight, even better.”

I roll my eyes. “Not happening tonight.”

She aims a big, beaming smile at me and then puts her hand on mine with affection. “Ready to dance?”

“So ready.”

“One more thing.” She leans in closer.

“What?” I ask.

She smiles, looking me right in the eyes, not blinking as I feel her grip my engagement ring and pull it off my finger.

“Alannah,” I mumble.

“Just in case,” she says, and then she puts my engagement ring onto her finger and extends her hand, admiring it.

My eyes roll.

“You never know. You might at least collect a phone number or two. Right? So, let’s go dance and see if there’s any filet mignon on offer.”

This place does feel like a meat market.

She and I slipped away from our group to the quieter section at the long, sleek, sparsely populated bar ten or fifteen minutes ago, but the place is filling up, the lighting has gone dimmer, and the thump of the bass is rising in volume and intensity.

I’m ready to succumb to that bass, realizing just how much I need a carefree night. To laugh with my friends, getting lost in a world of fun instead of feeling trapped by a bleak reality ridden with guilt and uncertainty. I down the rest of my drink before I hop off the bar stool.

I’m gonna have fun tonight. Celebrate life with my friends. Tonight, I’m just Chloe.

Not Adam’s caregiver.

Alannah reads my smile, gives me one back, and tugs on my hand, shaking her ass all the way to the dance floor. Our three friends are already there, dancing together.

Alannah, though perpetually single, is the default person I would talk to about this. She adores Adam. She’s proven again tonight that she’s a great sounding board. Though I’ve been clammed up about all of it until now, she’s been here for me throughout this ordeal. Making me go to mani-pedi appointments so that I have some self-care time, too. Calling me or showing up when she hasn’t heard from me. Bringing me a fancy coffee. Dropping a care package on the doorstep when she knows I’m overwhelmed.

And another good thing about Alannah – she tells it like it is.

She won’t hold back the truth if you get a bad haircut. She’ll commiserate with you, fake-plotting the demise of the bitch that cut your hair. She’ll then buy you hair clips and headbands or help you find a style for it so you can live with it while it grows out.

If you ask her if your jeans make your ass look big, she won’t lie about that either. Be ready for the truth when you ask Alannah Fisher for an opinion.

But her friendship is loving and supportive, too. If she can’t stand the guy you’re dating, she’ll tell you the truth in a gentle way you can stomach.

If you’re being a whiny bitch for too long, you’ll know it. Everyone needs a friend like Alannah. She’s ambitious, caring, motivating, and honest. She’s excelling in her field as a professional arbitrator as well as a social media influencer on the side with her “single, successful, and sultry” makeup tutorials channel. She’s great at motivating people to go after what they want in life.

I’m stoked that her career is accelerating. She’s worked her butt off for it and I’m glad I came out with her to celebrate her achievements tonight. To reciprocate friendship and be here for her.

Also, to let my hair down a little. Move my body a lot. Let myself feel a little sexy with my extra effort on my makeup, taking down my dark, shoulder-length hair that’s been in a ponytail or messy bun pretty much every day since Adam’s accident. Dusting off my curling iron and using it. Wearing a cute little black dress that I bought just before the accident and hadn’t had a chance to wear.

Of course Alannah thinks I should take Adam up on his offer. He had to know she would when he suggested I talk to her about it. She’s not the type to turn down a license for some fun.

I don’t know if I will do it. I don’t know if I can. If it’d be fun for me or if I’d feel like a cheating whore. If I did use it, how could I stand at an altar making promises to Adam in front of everyone we love knowing I’m lying my face off about promising fidelity?

I am the monogamous type. I don’t know if I can have sex with someone without feelings involved; I’ve never tried. I’m thirty years old and I’ve had sex with a grand total of six men in my life, including Adam. Feelings were involved each time.

All I know tonight is that the cocktails are tasting good, I don’t have to drive home, and I don’t have to even go home. I don’t have to let Adam see me get sloshed. I don’t have to hold back so that he doesn’t see me get what he calls “sloppy drunk”.

Tonight is a night with no decorum required.

I learned the hard way in our early days of dating that instead of thinking it’s adorable, looking after me, taking the opportunity for extra-dirty sex like his predecessor did, he gets disappointed in me. Embarrassed. I get lectures about it. My own dad never lectured me about booze the way Adam does. My parents don’t really lecture me period. They’ve always let me go my own way. That’s a nice way of saying I was always pretty invisible to them.

But Adam is Mister Responsible. Mister Decorum. He messaged me after I left to suggest I stay at Alannah’s all weekend. And I suspect it’s because he hopes she’ll talk me into things tonight and then I’ll do something about it tomorrow night. Since he won’t even see me until Sunday, I can get as loopy as I want tonight.

And I’ve decided I will.

No, it’s definitely not in me to just have sex with a stranger tonight, to switch gears from being in a committed relationship, spending eighteen months with one man, almost a year engaged to him, and seven months caring for him after his whole life got swept up into a tornado to simply falling onto a stranger’s dick my first time on a girls’ night out. Not who I am.

But having a bit of freedom, having no responsibility for the next forty-eight hours? Having the option to just be me? It sounds pretty damn good.