Chapter 2 #2
I don’t know what they’re talking about, but the mention of Florida sets me on edge. We can’t afford a cross-country trip right now. I’ve been saving for two years for an Alaskan cruise; it’s the top trip on my bucket list.
“See you next time,” Zach says as Ray walks him out.
I finish cleaning up, strip the sheets, remake the bed with fresh ones, and crawl under the covers before Ray returns.
He heads straight to the bathroom without a word.
I should be sleeping so I can get up early to finish the extra work I pushed off, but I’m too wired, bracing for an argument about this Florida thing.
When Ray finally emerges and climbs into bed, I speak up before he can turn off the light. “What’s this about Florida?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
He sighs, folding his hands across his chest. “There’s a couple on OF putting together a big collab in Fort Lauderdale next month. Zach hooked us up, and I think we should go. It’s great exposure, and we could get out of this rain for a few days and into some sun.”
I’m fuming, but try to hold it together. It’s better if I remain calm and state my case rationally.
“How are we supposed to pay for that?” I sit up, reluctant to have this conversation lying down. “We’re not touching the emergency fund, and the vacation fund is for the cruise. Alaska matters to me.”
He rolls his eyes. “Babe, Alaska can wait. Growing our brand is way more important than some fancy trip you want to take.”
“But I’ve been saving for the cruise for two years,” I say, sounding desperate. “I’m the one who makes most of the income, and it’s my savings. Shouldn’t I decide what we do with it?”
I know the second it leaves my mouth that it was a mistake. The slap takes me by surprise—sharp enough to jolt me, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to burn. My hand flies to my face. He’s shoved and grabbed me before, but he’s never done this.
“Fucking hell,” Ray seethes, rubbing his hand as if he hurt himself. “Do you not want us to succeed? Don’t you care how much this means to me? And it’s our money, not just yours. You need to get over yourself and support what we’re doing. We’re going to Florida next month, and that’s final.”
I’m still frozen, trying to process that he just hit me. My cheek feels warm under my palm. I can’t find any words.
Ray grabs his pillow. “I’m sleeping in the guest room,” he snaps, before storming out and slamming the door.
Tears sting my eyes as I press on the spot in my chest where the ache lives. I don’t love Ray. I hate how I let him treat me. But somehow, a part of me still doesn’t believe I deserve better.
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling for hours as my insecurities creep out of the dark. Do I deserve this? Is it my fault? How did my life end up here?
When I was a teenager, I dreamed of marrying my best friend, building a family, and growing old together. Instead, I’m stuck here, trapped in a nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from.
I wake up exhausted, with my alarm going off an hour early after only a few hours of sleep. There’s an accounting software project I’ve been working on that I need to finish. Ray is still in the guest room; he rarely gets up before 9 a.m.
I love my job as a software engineer. I’ve always been interested in computers and making programs run more effectively. After graduating with a computer science degree, I found a great job in Portland. As my projects became more complex, the company funded my master’s degree.
I met Ray the day I graduated from my master’s program.
I was celebrating with coworkers, my mom, and my older sister, Heather, at an upscale restaurant in downtown Portland.
Ray was bartending, and when I approached the bar for a round of drinks, he caught my eye with his red hair, pale skin, and strong build.
He’s six years older and a few inches taller than I am, which I liked.
Relentlessly flirtatious, he wouldn’t take no for an answer when he asked me out on a date.
After a couple of hours of work, Ray appears in my office doorway, coffee in hand, looking refreshed and alert. It seems last night didn’t disrupt his sleep.
“Feeling better this morning?” he asks, calm as can be. “Sorry for slapping you. If you hadn’t pushed me, I wouldn’t have lost my temper. You know, we Murphys run hot and can’t control it.”
It’s a tired excuse to blame his temper on some rage-button genetics in his family. It fixes nothing, but at least he apologized. Most of the time, I don’t even get that, so I stopped calling him out on it a long time ago.
Sighing, I hate that I’m giving in. “I’m not happy about the Florida trip, but I know it’s important to you, so we’ll go. Can we at least try to make it as affordable as possible?” I ask, bracing for the inevitable push for luxury accommodations.
Ray’s satisfied smirk grates on my nerves.
“I heard from Mac this morning. He’s excited we’re coming.
I’ll send you the details so you can book everything.
Flights are up to you, but everyone’s staying at the same hotel, so it is what it is.
I’m busy editing and posting yesterday’s content, so I need you to take care of it. ”
As usual, my job and what I have time for hardly matter.
“Fine, I’ll get right on that,” I mutter sarcastically. “The sooner we book, the better the deal.”
“Thanks, babe. This trip could really boost our subscriber base. You know how hard I’ve been working toward that,” he says as he walks away.
My gut churns with a tumultuous mix of fury, frustration, and self-loathing.
Fuck my life. Why do I cave to his bullshit?
I’m the one with the good job, the education, and the income.
He’d be nowhere without me, yet every day it feels the opposite.
I let him have his way because it’s easier than fighting him.
I grab a snack from the kitchen and head back to my office when my phone buzzes with a text.
Heather: Hey, you busy? Need to chat when you’re free.
This isn’t what I need right now. I love my sister, but she’s challenging on a good day. She’s a family law attorney and does not have an off switch.
Jay: I’m free now.
Seconds later, my phone rings.
“Hey, little brother,” Heather says. “How’s life?”
“Things are fine,” I lie.
I’m always cautious about what I tell her about my life.
She knows I’m unhappy with Ray, whom she never liked to begin with, but doesn’t know how bad it really is.
Heather would lose her shit if she knew half of what he says and does.
She’s always been protective of me, especially since I came out in high school.
“Good to hear. Mom and I are going on our cruise next month for her birthday. I still wish you were coming,” she says, laying it on thick.
I sigh. “We talked about this. Our budget’s tight,” I remind her, my tension rising.
“I’m just teasing you,” she says. “I was thinking, after we get back, we should throw Mom a party to celebrate her birthday. Nothing fancy, just at her house.”
“That’s a great idea. Let’s plan it for after you get back. I’ll help with any arrangements you need.”
“Awesome, thanks. She’s done a lot for us, and I want to make sure she feels appreciated,” she responds.
Our mom has had a tough time since we moved from Rochester to Portland before my senior year of high school.
Heather was in Seattle for college, my dad had a new job, and my coming out—when I was literally caught with my pants down—ultimately led to the end of my parents’ marriage.
My mom and I struggled, but we’ve worked through it.
My dad disappeared completely, wanting nothing to do with us, especially me.
“Thanks for planning the party. I wish I could go with you on the cruise.”
“Jay, it’s okay,” she says, sounding sympathetic for once. “So, what’s new with you? Do you and Ray have any fun plans this summer?”
“Nothing special. Still saving for Alaska,” I lie again.
I’m not about to tell her about Florida. She knows about our social media, but she’s in the dark about OnlyFans. Mentioning a last-minute trip to Florida would raise too many questions.
We talk for a few more minutes, catching up on our jobs and the fun plans she has for the cruise, before I hang up and go back to work.
Once I’m done, I book the cheapest flights to Florida I can find and begrudgingly submit my vacation time I don’t want to use. It’s just another compromise, and another push into a corner.