1. Kat #2
“Is she going to be there?” I ask him, staring straight ahead at a black and white photo of the two of us taken years ago on vacation in Mexico.
Why? Why even bother? Why did I let it slip out? I’d planned to just say goodbye. Just end this suffering already.
As he answers, I continue to stare at the genuine smile on my face and then to where his arm is wrapped possessively around my waist in the photograph.
I hate that I asked. It’s my insecurity, my hate. My envy even.
“No, she’s not. And I already told you it doesn’t matter.” Any trace of a smile or even of disinterest leaves me. I can’t hide what it does to me, what his lie has done to me.
It doesn’t matter. Let it go. They’re all nonanswers. They’re words to hide the truth and we both know it.
My elbow is planted on the table as I rest my chin in my hand and try to cover up how much it hurts.
To keep it from him just like he’s keeping the truth from me, even if I sniff a little too loud.
I speak low as I stare straight ahead at nothing in particular.
“You told me it’s not true, but you didn’t deny it to the press,” I tell him and finally look him in the eye.
“You didn’t deny it to anyone but me, and I know you’re lying.
” My words crack at the end and I have to tear my gaze away.
“It’s been different since you came home.
” My last statement is drawn out and practically a whisper.
It’s been difficult between us over the past year, but the last two weeks …
The tension between us changed the second he came home.
I knew something bad had happened. I knew it.
Everyone told me to be careful and warned me about Evan six years ago when I first started seeing him. I knew what I was doing when I first said yes to a date with him, when I gave myself to him and let myself fall for someone like him. I’m a fool.
“I told you, Kat, it’s not what it looks like,” he says and his voice is soft, like he’s afraid to say the words louder.
“Then why not tell them?” I ask, staring into his pleading expression.
“Why let the world believe you’ve cheated on me?
What could you possibly gain?” Each question gets louder as the words rush out of my mouth.
I’m ashamed of how much passion there is in my voice. How much of my pain is on display.
In stark contrast is how little pain he shows and I don’t miss how he hasn’t budged. He hasn’t made a single move to come to me. So I stay planted in my seat as well.
I know why he doesn’t deny it, and it’s because it’s true.
Years of just the two of us have shown me who he is and I know he’s not a liar, but he’s lying to me now.
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
“It’s been weeks, hasn’t it?” I say, forcing out the words from between clenched teeth.
This morning I couldn’t talk without screaming.
Without slamming my fists into the table, making it shake and causing a glass of water to fall and shatter on the hardwood floors.
I reached my breaking point when he looked me in the eye and told me there was nothing to that picture. I refuse to listen when he lies; not when he does such a horrible job of it.
“Stop it, Kat,” Evan commands firmly and his voice is harsh and unforgiving, like I’m the one in the wrong.
“Oh, I see,” I respond, raising a brow and feeling a sick smile tug at my lips. “You can cheat, you can lie, but I should be quiet and give you a kiss on the way out to go do whatever you want to do?”
“Don’t do this,” he says with a rawness that makes my heart clench.
“Then tell me what happened. I know something did.” He’s been distant, even cold toward me ever since he came home.
A moment passes and I lose my composure again, bared to him in every way as I wait for an answer. But I don’t get the one thing I need. The truth. Or a believable lie.
“I have to go,” is all he says as he gathers his luggage. Slinging a black duffle bag over one shoulder, gripping a suitcase with his other hand, he adds, “I love you.”
He says the words without looking at me.
I love you.
It hurts so damn much because he knows I love him. He knows it and he throws the words back at me like it doesn’t matter that he’s risking it all.
“If you won’t tell me the truth,” I say lowly as I stare at the table, pushing out the words and feeling each one slice open the cut in my heart that much deeper, “then don’t bother coming back.” My throat tightens and my lungs refuse to fill as silence is all that answers me.
There’s only a slight hesitation, a small creaking sound as he adjusts his grip on the luggage. That’s all I get. That’s it. The creak of the floorboards that’s barely heard over my racing heart.
He leaves without attempting to kiss me or approaching me in the least. His strides don’t break in cadence until the heavy walnut front door opens and closes, leaving me with nothing but the tortured sob that’s desperate to come up and the faint sounds of the city life filling the empty space once again.
My hands tremble as I close my eyes and try to calm down.
If he really loved me, he wouldn’t have let it come to this.
If he loved me, he’d tell me the truth.
Secrets break up marriages.
I keep telling myself that he’s to blame, but as a cry rips up my throat and I bring my knees into my chest, my heels resting on the seat of the chair, I replay the last few years and I know I’m at fault too.
Deep down, I know. I bury my face in my knees and rock slightly, feeling pathetic as I break down yet again.
If I were him, I’d have cheated on me too.
He says he didn’t. He swears it’s a lie.
But he doesn’t explain it. He can’t even look me in the eye.
I did this to myself. I should’ve known better.