9. Kat
KAT
I don’t know what I’m more ashamed about as I carelessly toss the throw blanket over one arm of the sofa and force myself get up, still feeling the ache between my thighs.
The fact that I fucked my husband.
Or the fact that I then refused to go to bed with him.
Not that I told him so much. I hid behind work and then snuck out here to the living room. I didn’t sleep on the sofa for more than a few hours. Maybe that’s all I’m entitled to for being so weak and falling right into his arms the moment he pulled me in.
It’s like our union is a spiraling dark hole and I’m falling deeper and deeper, to the point where what I want and what I’m feeling don’t make sense and nothing adds up. Not that I could hold on to anything anyway; I’ve lost all control.
I couldn’t possibly feel more pathetic at this point.
Because I love him and hate myself for it.
I glance at my phone on the dining room table as I make my way to the kitchen, the charging cord is in a tangled heap on the floor.
I already know what Sue would say. She’d feel sorry for me for going back to the man who cheated on me. Her lips would purse in that way where it’s obvious she’s holding back some snarky remark.
Pity and sorrow for the pathetic girl, clinging to an unfaithful man. Even the bitter thought echoes what I already know she’d say.
The thing about love though is that it’s not a light switch. You can’t just turn it off. No matter how much you may want to, you can’t erase the memories and move on. Sue knows that much, she just chooses to forget that it’s not so easy.
My head throbs and I’m not sure if it’s from the lack of sleep or the absence of caffeine.
Even the faint sounds of city life from stories down are enough to make my temples pulse.
I’ve felt more put together with a hangover than I do now.
This is not the unfortunate side effect of too much cabernet last night. I wish it was only that.
I groan as I rest against the wall of the living room and try to calm the headache. I close my eyes and feel the weight of all the stress from the last two weeks.
I need aspirin or coffee. Or both. My heart sputters as I slowly walk up the stairs, knowing Evan’s lying in bed alone and that it was my choice.
As I pass the office I remember last night and my thighs clench; I can still feel him inside of me.
His warm lips on my neck, his rough hands on my body …
it’s more than a memory, the act still lingers on my skin.
He took from me. Relentlessly, possessively.
Each step brings my body temperature higher and higher, yet my heart hurts more and more.
Why won’t the pain just go away? Why can’t my head just shut the fuck up so I can pretend I’m okay for a single moment? Jules told me once I overthink everything. She was referring to some edits I gave her but still, the woman had a point.
The bedroom door is open and as I walk through the door, I can’t take my eyes off the perfectly made bed.
The cream and white comforter printed with black dahlias is pulled tight, looking pristine.
A crease forms in the center of my forehead as I walk to the bathroom, listening to my heart beat with each step, but finding the bathroom empty.
Evan wasn’t downstairs , I think as I open the medicine cabinet and silently grab a bottle of aspirin.
He wasn’t downstairs, and he’s not up here.
I swallow the pills without water, staring into the mirror as my heart clenches, the dark bags under my eyes looking significantly worse than yesterday morning. Did he even stay last night? Did he find me asleep on the sofa and decide to leave? It’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?
The cabinet door slams shut; I give the push more force than I meant to, but I ignore it, striding quickly down to the kitchen, the baggy T-shirt flowing around my thighs as one sleeve slips down my shoulder.
I just need coffee. Coffee will wake me, rid me of this headache and give me the energy I need to deal with this mess.
It is such a chaotic mess; I’m not sure how it possibly got worse than it was. A mix of emotions and desires that thrashes me side to side like an unforgiving earthquake. The only thing certain is that I can’t stand on my own two feet. At least not without a cup of coffee.
A sarcastic huff of a humorless laugh leaves me as I round the bottom of the stairs and head to the kitchen, a pitiful smile adorning my lips. Ask and you shall receive; I’m a spiteful self-fulfilling prophecy.
All the plans I had are threatening to blow away like the stubborn seeds of a dandelion. Marriage, traveling, success and recognition. Then what? A small bump at my stomach cradled by his hand on top of mine.
Using the wineglass from last night I left next to the sink, I fill it with water and pour it into the back of the coffee maker, remembering the days when having a child was on my mind.
Back when my career was only a long shot of a dream, when my time was monopolized by Evan and we owned the world together. We could be and do anything we wanted.
I slip a fresh coffee pod into the machine and turn it on as I remember how he’d hold my belly and plant a kiss there, just below my belly button, telling me what a wonderful mother I would be one day to his son.
With my throat tight I admit one thing: we were fools . I knew this would never last. I knew it back then. Just like I know it now.
I bite the inside of my cheek and take in a heavy breath, slipping the ceramic mug with Rise and Shine scrolled on the side under the spigot to the coffee machine.
My bare feet pad on the tiled kitchen floor as I open the fridge and search for the creamer, ignoring the old dreams and memories being dredged up.
I stare longer than I should at the empty spot on the shelf.
I can’t even remember to get creamer. My teeth grind back and forth and the throbbing comes back with a vengeance to my temples.
I slam the fridge door shut as the coffee maker sputters to life. It’s quite something when you’ve fallen so hard that a mundane task like going to the grocery store is enough to push you over the edge. Maybe I’ve truly gone crazy.
The creak of the front door opening is the last thing I need right now. The door closes softly, as if Evan didn’t want to wake me. I wipe under my eyes and push my hair out of my face as I lean against the wall with my arms crossed, waiting for him to make his way in here.
I can’t explain why I feel guilty. It’s all I feel, like everything I’ve done is wrong and I’m the one to blame.
Is this normal? I feel like this is what I deserve.
Like somehow I’ve orchestrated all of this just so I could feel lonely and miserable.
Maybe I had it too good and I decided I needed to go right back to the mental space where I used to feel like I was drowning.
“Morning.” I hear Evan’s voice and the sound of a plastic bag crinkling before I see him.
My lips part to tell him good morning, but then I catch sight of him.
He looks tired, his scruff a little too grown out, his dark hair a little too long and a bit of darkness under his eyes. For the first time I’ve laid eyes on him, he looks older, more mature but still as handsome as ever.
It all brings me to an abrupt halt. His jaw tenses as he rests the bag on the counter and then looks over his shoulder at me. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, barely looking at me before turning his attention to the corner cabinet and grabbing a mug for himself.
“No,” I say, forcing out the word. “Evan …” I try to keep talking but my heart slams at the same time that Evan shuts the cabinet and turns around to face me. He leaves the stark white mug on the granite countertop where it clinks in protest, and I stare at it, rather than at him.
I have to spend time away from him. That’s what I need. To get used to being alone again and stopping this back and forth.
“I need you to leave,” I tell Evan evenly and then peek up at him. It hurts to say the words after last night. I should have said them before, but I was so tired and felt so alone. It was selfish to need him then. I used him in a way, but I won’t do it again. I won’t keep pretending.
He shakes his head, not once or twice but continuously as if he’s in disbelief. Like I didn’t actually tell him that. He had to know it was going to come to this.
“Last night?—”
“Was a mistake,” I say, cutting him off forcefully and my voice cracks. My chest feels tight and it’s harder to breathe, but I stand my ground.
“We’re different people, Evan.” I try to say more but my words are stuck in my throat, threatening to choke me.
“We’ve always been different, Kat. Always,” Evan says and his words come out hard. I can already hear him convincing me. I can already see myself falling right back into his arms because that’s where I feel so safe and so loved. But he can’t hold me forever.
“I can’t do this, Evan,” I tell him honestly, feeling my heart break as I voice the words. It’s a slow break, one meant to be torturous.
“Do what?” he asks me cautiously and it pisses me off. The plastic bag rustles as he reaches behind him, brushing against it and bracing himself against the counter.
“This. I can’t.” I look him in the eyes even as mine water. I let the tears fall as my blood turns to ice, yet my skin heats.
Evan takes a step toward me, my name falling from his lips as his arms open and spread wide.
“If you won’t tell me the truth about what happened, you need to get out.”
With his eyes still widening, he shakes his head, an apology from his subconscious before he has the chance to say the words himself.
“Get out!” I yell at him, feeling the weakness threatening to consume me. Threatening to bring me right back to him. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you here.”
“It’s going to be all right,” he says, attempting to calm me, that placating tone in his voice making me even angrier.
“Well, it’s not now, and you need to get the fuck out,” I say and seethe.
I fold my arms across my chest as I look him in the eyes and tell him again.
“I need space, and that means you’re leaving.
” This townhouse is in both our names, I’m more than aware of that and he could easily bring that up.
He has a right to be here and part of me wishes he would fight me on that, but he doesn’t.
He stares at the ground for a moment, his broad shoulders rising slowly with each heavy breath.
My body shakes as he snatches his keys off the counter and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
I try to convince myself as I move to the counter, bracing my hot palms on the cold granite and focusing on breathing. This is the worst it’s ever been between us. I know it’s the end of us. I can feel it deep down in my bones. Shattering my core.
Out of the need to move, to do something and just go through the motions, I reach for the bag on the counter.
It’s a mistake. Inside is a bottle of coffee creamer.
It’s so stupid that something like this could shred me. That it can make me fall to the floor. That it can make me feel like I’ve made the worst decision of my life.
That it makes me feel like I’m alone. And that it’s my fault for pushing Evan away.