Chapter 69
I thought I was over Mr. Korgy, and yet, here I am, lying on the fluffy comforter in this Captain Cook top-floor hotel room, wearing a slinky red lingerie slip and waiting for his arrival.
I was icy at first. Numb and disconnected.
Then he started to clamor, and grovel, and scramble, and the iciness from the breakup began to thaw, making way for a brand-new, bright and shiny feeling.
Power. Young power, just a sprout, the kind with a giddiness to it.
A tickled sense of amusement. I’d thumb through his strings of frantic texts on my breaks at work, or play his stuttery voicemails while I forked a TV dinner into my mouth, and I’d smirk at the irony.
All it took for him to want to be with me was me no longer wanting to be with him.
But then the text came through. The one where he said he’d leave his wife for me.
And he seemed so convicted. And I bent. I didn’t want to.
I told myself not to believe it. That it was, at best, bait to rope me back into the dynamic that would return to its usual form as soon as I took it, and at worst, something he’d say he didn’t mean come morning.
But the morning came and he was still so sure.
And I couldn’t help it. I wanted to believe him.
And even if that wasn’t the same as believing him, it was good enough to get me to the hotel.
“I did it,” he says, stunned. “It’s over.”
He lets the door shut behind him. And then it all comes pouring out like soda out of a shaken can, tears and snot and sweat flying out of him, leaking down his cheeks and onto his shirt as his chest convulses in violent contractions.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I say, pulling him into a hug.
“She was so confused,” he hiccups. “She just kept saying ‘I don’t understand, I don’t understand.’ ” Hiccup. “I said this would be better for both of us and for Gregory too. And I know it will be. I know it will be. But it’s still the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
He sobs into me and onto me and all over me. His whole body shudders and jerks with the trauma of what he just went through. I pat him on the back while his bodily fluids—albeit not the ones I expected—pour all over my lingerie until, finally, he grows quiet as he softly falls asleep.