Chapter 5 Cordelia - Gutted
To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
Henry VI, William Shakespeare
Two months later
Work had been so busy lately. I was covering territory for Jessa, who was on her honeymoon, so I'd been working crazy hours.
At least I'd be home on time tonight. I'd stopped in and bought some fried chicken for dinner, knowing that Harrison was absolutely useless in the kitchen and I was too exhausted to cook.
I checked my phone. Go me! All these crazy long hours and I was still in my driveway at my usual time.
Harrison would be so pleased; he'd not been happy that I was stretching myself so thin.
I wandered in and put the chicken on the kitchen counter.
Where was he? His usual MO was to watch television in the living room, comfortably ensconced on the sofa with a cold beer.
Harrison was not a summer person. He hated the heat, and the inevitable sweating, so there was no way he'd be on the patio.
I heard a muffled voice coming from the bedroom. Who was he talking to?
Opening the door, I saw a scene that would never fade from my memory.
It burned into my synapses so strongly that I was certain I’d be able to tell my great-grandchildren everything about this moment: the smells, the sounds, and the thickness of the air.
On my bed, with my cover pulled back, Harrison was riding a blonde, doggy style.
Aggressively doggy style. He had his head thrown back, while she had her forearms pressed against the mattress, desperately trying to absorb the impact of his hard thrusts.
“I’m good, aren’t I baby? Fuck yeah,” he roared. The girl under him tried to answer but her response was muffled by the mattress. I stood, frozen, wanting to throw something but unable to move.
“Oh yeah, get it Harrison!” he urged himself. The man definitely had an ego, but I’d never heard this kind of self-talk in bed before. It was unattractive. Doubly so because I was not the woman hearing it.
He came with a shout and patted the woman’s slender hips, leaning down to kiss the center of her back. “Oh Emma, you are so—"
He turned his head and saw me at the door. Pulling out of the shaking woman, he stood, his half-limp dick hanging uselessly between his traitorous thighs. “Cordy, you’re home on time. I wasn’t expecting you. This is, um … Oh shit. I’m so sorry."
I was silent. The fact that he wasn’t expecting me was obvious. I didn’t understand why he had to verbalize that. The small blonde scurried to her feet, pulling the sheet over her nudity, as if I wanted to see her body.
“Um, could you please turn around?” she asked quietly. Was this real? Or was I having a nightmare. I shook myself. Nope. Still here in this room that smelt like cum and sweat.
Harrison had pulled on his pants. Dress pants, not sweats. He didn’t own sweats. “Cordy, um ... I don’t know what to say. I'm in love with Emma and I'm so sorry you found out this way. We need to—"
“Get out,” I whispered. He walked over and reached out to touch my shoulder, prompting me to step back. “Get out!” I ordered more loudly.
Emma dressed herself quickly and had the sense to hold her head down and cross her arms across her chest. She looked young. Too young. How old was this girl? Who was she?
“Okay. Emma, we’ll go somewhere for the night.
” I stepped aside and let them pass. He didn’t even take a bag with him.
Maybe he had spare clothes at this skank’s house and didn’t need to take anything.
The girl, who had the young, full cheeks of a teen, took her chipmunk ass out the front door at lightning speed.
Harrison stood nervously in the hall, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t decide if it would make things worse.
Newsflash: nothing could make this worse.
“I really am sorry, Cordy. I’ll come back and talk to you tomorrow, when you’re calmer,” he said in low tones before taking his useless, cheating carcass outside.
When I’m calmer? I said four words to him.
I hadn’t thrown anything. I was a saint as far as I was concerned.
He was the one who had calming post-sex endorphins running through his blood, whereas I just had rage and shock.
He should be grateful that I didn’t kick him in his filthy, manwhore balls.
I wanted to throw myself on the mattress and cry, but that mattress was festy. He didn’t have a condom on when he’d turn that half-flaccid dick toward me, so who knew what was on that bed. I texted Randa and Jules on our group chat.
Me: Harrison fucking chipmunk girl on my bed. Pls come. Emergency.
Jules: Just starting shift now but can call out. Don’t move Cordy. He must have a death wish. Dad just bought a new woodchipper.
Randa: It’s ok Jules. I’ll be there in two hours. Leaving Samantha’s now. Will run over the sack of shit if I see him on way home.
Me: Stay there Jules. Chat later. Thanks Randa.
Samantha lived a few hours away and Miranda had gone to spend a few days with her. I felt bad that she was leaving but was too messed up to ask her not to. I felt selfish but I needed her. And Jules was saving money for a new car, so I didn’t want her to give up a shift.
Tears were streaming down my face, and I was suddenly infused with so much energy.
Like a mother who needed to lift a car off her child, my anger-fueled strength had me pulling the mattress off the bed and dragging it into the backyard.
I had to eradicate this filth. I couldn’t set Harrison alight (could I?), but this . .. this I could do.
I set myself up in the backyard with a lawn chair, tequila, and marshmallows.
Might as well try to enjoy a sugar high and use this mattress for something other than a sacrificial burning.
My tears didn’t stop. They just kept coming.
I had snot dribbling down my face, mingling with the never-ending stream of tears.
The fucking mattress wouldn’t burn so I drizzled some tequila on it.
This was nasty shit, cheap stuff that Miranda had brought over one night but given up on because it tasted like rocket fuel.
Whatever, it would do for tonight’s purposes: burning mattresses of betrayal and getting rotten drunk.
The mattress fire was weak and smoky, but it was wreaking the necessary destruction, so I sat back in my chair and let the filth burn.
What now? STI testing obviously, but after that? My happily ever after had lasted just months.