Chapter 1 - Lualhati #2
I would have assumed Bryson was watching loud porn if I couldn’t also hear the telltale squeaking of our bedframe shuddering in time with the voices.
One of which was Bryson’s. I stood frozen in the doorway, time suddenly seeming to halt, then swirl rapidly around me.
My heart stuttered, like someone had just come at it with a weedwhacker.
Part of me wanted to close the door and walk right back out as if I’d never come in here at all.
I told that part to kindly keep her cowardly opinions to herself. Because the bigger part, the real Lualhati, obviously had some shit to take care of now.
I squared my shoulders and slammed the apartment door. Slammed it hard.
The loud noises – the moaning, the squeaking – stopped at once.
Now, all I could hear was heavy breathing interspersed with furiously hissed whispers.
I remained at the entrance to the apartment, giving them some time to prepare themselves that they probably didn’t deserve, because I was a high-road-taking-bitch like that.
Less than sixty seconds later, a haphazardly dressed woman came careening out of the bedroom, her face scarlet. I stepped neatly aside and gave her a sardonic after you gesture, allowing her access to the apartment door. She fled through it without saying a word. I closed it after her.
When I turned around again, Bryson was there, shirtless with a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, his hair mussed. I stared at him, stared at the man I’d been with for more than five years, and waited for the hurt. Waited for the tears.
They never came.
Instead, I just felt exhausted. Empty. Like I’d poured half a decade of my life, of myself, into this man. And what the hell did I have to show for it?
He never even bought me a ring. He always said he would. One day.
If he had bought me one, I would have chucked it at his head right about now. Maybe that would jolt me out of this terrible, draining numbness.
“I can explain,” he said, taking a step towards me.
Ah. Well, that certainly helped with the numbness. My skin heated with anger.
“Explain?” I repeated in disbelief. “Yeah. Sure. Go ahead and explain how you ended up vigorously humping some random in our bed. Our bed!”
“She isn’t ‘some random,’” he groused. “I wouldn’t go behind your back for a meaningless hook-up with a stranger.” He crossed his arms and had the gall to look disappointed in me. “Give me a little more credit than that.”
Lord have mercy. My head was about to explode.
“Great. You get credit for having a meaningful affair, I guess? Hooray for you!”
I really did wish I had a ring to throw at his stupid face. Maybe I could use one of my sadly decaying houseplants instead. The soil-filled pot would have a lot more heft than a dinky little band of metal.
“What am I supposed to say, Lu?”
“Don’t call me Lu,” I gritted out. I hated when he shortened my name.
“You’re always at work,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Always…Always at work?!” I sputtered. “Always at the job I literally just quit so that I could focus on us?”
His gaze shifted away. Apparently, there was something very interesting on the perfectly smooth metal of the floor that required all of his attention.
“Were you even going to tell me?” I demanded. “Before…”
I couldn’t even make myself say the word wedding. I was fairly sure I’d vomit if I did.
He didn’t answer.
Which I supposed was actually answer enough.
“Get out,” I whispered. “Actually, no. You know what? I’m going to get out.
I hate this fucking place.” I swept my arms out in a wide and violent arc, indicating the small, sterile, windowless station quarters we’d lived in for the past two years.
The apartment I’d tried so hard to make feel like home with candles and wall art and knickknacks, never quite succeeding.
“Wait!” He was starting to look panicked now. As if the reality that I could leave him was only just starting to sink in. “Lu-”
I cut him off by going right back out the apartment door and shutting it firmly behind me.
Outside our living quarters, I walked briskly down the brightly-lit corridor. The forward motion was invigorating. And it gave me space to make plans.
I wouldn’t ask for my old job at the med bay back.
They’d already hired my replacement, and the idea of staying on Elora Station now made me want to stick a scalpel in my own eye.
But the thought of going back to Terratribe II was equally unappealing.
I’d sold my small practice there. I’d have to start all over again.
And I’d be doing it on my own. Completely alone.
I knew I was capable of all the work involved, but even just imagining it made me want to collapse into a pathetic little puddle of depressed Lualhati goo.
I didn’t want to stay here.
I didn’t want to go back.
There was no other choice but to continue with what my body was doing on instinct right this very moment – pushing forward.
The same way I was currently power walking my ass through this bright and shiny station, I would throw myself onto a new path.
I had to maintain some kind of inertia. If I stopped for too long, I might realize that my life was rather rudely falling the fuck apart.
I needed something different. Somewhere people didn’t know me, where I could just focus on myself and my work without going through the rigamarole of reopening my own clinic on Terratribe II.
A job I could distract myself with would be ideal, like at someone else’s clinic, or a hospital.
At least for a little while. Until I figured out what the hell came next for me.
My comms tablet vibrated with an incoming message. I halted, stewing on the fact that it was probably Bryson. I yanked the device out, only to see that the message was from Tasha instead.
Thanks so much again for your help, the message read. Please let me know the second you come across a viable candidate who might be interested in the position. Any candidate. Seriously.
I’ve got a candidate for you, I typed back, thumbs flying furiously over the screen. She’s experienced, ready to start immediately, and has a great bedside manner. Also great hair. And a great butt.
Tasha’s reply came in at once.
Oh my God! Thank you! The great hair and butt truly aren’t necessary, but I guess I’ll make a note of that…Who is it?
My stomach tightened with resolve. Or maybe it was just that sweet halo-halo giving me the strength I needed to take the leap. I typed my final reply.
Me.