Chapter 11 #3
“Have you already had a coffee?” She looks at my empty cup.
I nod. “Yes, I’m trying to keep myself busy.”
She rubs my leg in a sympathetic gesture. “So, he still hasn’t called?”
I shake my head. “No, and I don’t think he will.”
“Mmm,” she answers. “I totally get lesbianism, you know. Imagine not having to deal with all this shit we cop from men.”
“I know, right?” I answer.
Bridget breezes in, oh no, she’s back on the love boat. Abbie and I roll our eyes at each other.
“Hi, sorry I’m late. Jim and I just had Thai together,” she gushes.
“Don’t you mean Jeremy?” Abbie asks flatly.
“Oh yes.” She smiles. “I just like to call him Jim.” She looks around to the counter and Abbie sticks her fingers down her throat, simulating ‘I’m going to be sick.’ I stifle a giggle.
“So, Tash, did he call?” She puts her hand on my knee and I shake my head.
“That’s it, dump the stupid ass.”
I smile. “I don’t need to. It seems I have already been dumped, by him.”
“What an idiot.” She rolls her eyes. “So, what happened on Sunday? I want all the details.” She sits forward.
“Well, we went shopping and then we had a fight and then we made up and then we pretty much had sex for the next six or eight hours.”
“Eight hours?” Abbie spits. I smile as I take a sip of my coffee. “Hell, is he on Viagra?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I’m not sure what’s normal for him.” “I’m lucky if I get forty minutes,” Bridget snaps.
“So, how was it? Is he as good as he looks?”
“Abbie,” I snap. “It’s not like that.” Though I smile, unable to hide my glee at being able to report back.
Bridget points her teaspoon at me. “Don’t you dare hold out on us. We need details.”
“Let’s just say, I felt well and thoroughly used on Monday and my throat was sore.”
“Sore throat. Oh god, were you giving head all night?” Bridget winces.
I laugh. “No, my throat was sore from screaming. I think he was trying to kill me with orgasms.”
Abbie simulates melting down the lounge, while wiping her forehead. “Kill me now. I knew he’d be amazing in the sack. How did you get so lucky, bitch?” she snaps.
I giggle. “Though to be honest, I think I would have rather gone without. Now I know what I’m missing out on and, trust me girls, there is nowhere to go after Mr. Stanton.
He’s the whole package.” I rub my forehead as I contemplate meeting a very mediocre version of man and how disheartening that day will be.
“So, did he say he would call you?”
“No, he told me we could just have one night together.”
“So, why are you waiting for him to call?” Abbie frowns.
I shrug. “Wishful thinking probably. I’m telling you he felt it too. He told me he adores me. Actually, no, he said he fucking adores me.”
I place my hand under my chin and blow out a deep breath as I swoon at the memory.
“Oh, I forgot, what did he say about the ink?”
“Um, this sounds weird but if you were me it wouldn’t.” I don’t know why but I feel embarrassed to elaborate. “He…he got it on my twenty-first birthday as a birthday present to me.”
“Fuck off,” Bridget snaps.
“I know, right,” I nod.
“He’s hot and sentimental,” Abbie sighs. “I think I’m in love with him myself.”
“Me too,” Bridget chimes in.
“Well, that makes three of us,” I groan as I lean my head back onto the lounge. “What the hell am I going to do?”
“What drives him mad?” Abbie chimes in. I shrug my shoulders. “You know, was there a point when he lost control?”
“He likes dirty talk,” I whisper, a little embarrassed.
Both their eyes light up. “What? What did you say?”
“I’m not going there.” I giggle. “But I dropped the C-bomb.”
“You’re kidding,” Bridget laughs. “You hate that word.”
“I know.” I rub my eyes as I remember how he loved it. “It amped him right up, actually. He totally lost control. He took me to the dark side…and I need to get on a fast train back.”
“Well, use your head, Tash, if he loses it over dirty talk.” Abbie’s phone texts a message, which she reads.
“You are kidding,” she snaps, “I’ve had enough.”
“What’s wrong?”
“James hooked up with that Tunnel Cunt and now he’s asking me not to come home tonight so he can make lots of noise. He can forget it.”
“Why do you hate this girl again?”
“Because she’s after his money.”
“How do you know that?”
“The brother of a girl at work hooked up with her a couple of years ago and apparently she gave him six months of terror after the event. She used to be a stripper in an upper-class strip club. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s a high-end hooker or something now, and I just don’t trust her.”
“What does she look like again?” Bridget asks.
“Caramel blond, beautiful. A killer body, but I’m telling you the girl is evil. If she hurts him, I’m going to disembowel the bitch with a hairbrush.”
We all laugh. I knew if I spent a couple of hours with my friends I could forget about the dread that is creeping over me, the sick ball in my stomach that is telling me I’m just another notch on his bedpost, one that he went back to simply for old times’ sake.
Wednesday, 12:00 a.m.—I lie in bed on my back while the hot tears run into my ears.
I have been lying here since 10:00 p.m. and still I can’t sleep.
I haven’t eaten all day, and I have a thumping headache.
My mind is constantly assessing the situation.
Is he in someone else’s arms now? Does he have someone in his bed?
Maybe he was already seeing someone when he promised me he wouldn’t be with anyone else.
Of course, he’s with someone else, who am I kidding? My chest is physically hurting.
Thursday, 9.00 p.m.—I am heartbroken after crying on and off for most of the day yesterday.
Reality, the bitch, has hit me hard. He’s not going to call.
He obviously doesn’t feel the same. I totally imagined the chemistry we shared, no, actually I felt it.
It was just him that felt nothing. I sit on the lounge in my gym gear after devouring a family block of chocolate.
Honestly, why bother going to the gym? What’s the goddamn point?
I feel sick to my stomach and it has nothing to do with the sugar coma I’m just about to slip into.
I shower, put on my robe and pour myself a glass of wine.
I head out to my balcony and sit on my daybed while I watch the city lights below me twinkle and listen to the hustle and bustle noises, a towel wrapped around my head.
What should I do? I know the answer but how in the hell do I forget him?
I wish last weekend never happened. It has just brought painful feelings to the surface again, ones that I’m not coping with.
I thought I was stronger than this. My life is a mess.
An hour later, I go and retrieve my phone and glasses to check my emails and return to my spot on the balcony.
I stare at my phone for a good thirty minutes.
Should I ring him? I know I shouldn’t, but what do I do?
Am I really going to put myself through this?
I would rather he reject me than this waiting around crap, it’s killing me.
I want to hear him say the words. I need to hear him tell me he doesn’t want me.
My eyes fill with tears as I even contemplate hearing those painful words.
Only then can I move on. Only then will I be able to start to heal. I can’t go on like this…I text:
Why don’t you ring me?
I suddenly start to freak out, what am I doing? My phone immediately beeps a text.
You know why.
I text back.
Don’t you want to hear my voice?
I instantly regret sounding so needy, but I need answers. My phone beeps again:
More than anything!!!
I sit up. What? He wants to hear my voice more than anything…. With exclamation marks. For the first time in four days I find myself smiling at my phone. I text back:
I need another night, baby. I can’t do this.
Shit, have I gone too far? That’s definitely needy. I screw my face up. Oh shit, who cares, I am frigging needy. My phone beeps again:
I can’t change my DNA, Natasha.
My heart sinks. It is the cousin thing. That’s something I can’t change either, no matter how hard I try. My eyes fill with tears. I text back:
You are thinking too much.
I wait for his reply, but he doesn’t answer. Fifteen minutes go by and still no answer. I start to pace while ringing my hands. Forty-five minutes later, still nothing. With a heavy heart I text him one last time:
I put a key to my apartment on your key ring.
Please use it.
xxxxx
An hour and a half and a second desperately hot shower later, I fall into bed.
That’s it, I tried. He can’t let the cousin thing go and I can’t change the circumstances.
I give up. It’s an exhausting situation, one that I can’t change.
I am just drifting into sleep when I hear the key go into my door.
Shit, he came.