F*ck Marriage Page 15

  “So,” he says.

  “So...” I say.

  “I heard Satcher and Jules hooked up. What happened between the two of you?” He empties his glass and glances up at the TV to clock the score. He’s enjoying this, I realize.

  “What’s it to you?” My beer arrives and I take a sip.

  “Oh, you know ... my ex hooks up with my best friend and I’m interested to know what happened…”

  “It doesn’t seem like you two are best friends anymore,” I say. “Want to tell me what happened with that?”

  Woods bristles. Two spots down, Desi slams his fist down on the bar, his eyes glued to the screen above him.

  “He didn’t like what happened with Pearl. We got into it the day after you left town.”

  “Into it? Into it, how?”

  No one had bothered to mention this to me, including Satcher. I’d even asked him about the tension and he’d brushed off my comments like it was all in my head.

  “We fought…”

  “Physically?”

  “Yes, physically,” he says. “He punched me and I punched back. Come on, Billie—you telling me he never mentioned this? You’d think he would since he’s had a candle burning for you for years.”

  I can’t believe what he’s saying. I’m quiet for a minute processing it all.

  “It wasn’t like that for Satcher and me. We’ve only ever been friendly…”

  “Maybe on your end, but I’ve known Satch his whole life. He’s been in love with you for a very long time.”

  I make a face. “Come on. You’re kidding me right now. Satcher, who has commitment issues and has slept with half the women in Manhattan?”

  “Women overthink everything and men barely think.” He shakes his head.

  “So your tension with Satcher is over me?”

  “Yes. That’s where it started.”

  I lean back in my seat, incredulous.

  “Well...” I pause to take a giant sip of beer. “Whatever it was, it’s over now. Satcher is with Julia.”

  “Certainly an odd turn of events,” Woods says, studying my face. “You sad about it?”

  “Why weren’t you this concerned with my feelings when we were together?”

  One corner of his mouth tucks in. “I was, but when you’re knee-deep in insecurity and denial about your role in things, it’s hard to show it.”

  “Wow, ten years’ worth of therapy in one night.” I lick my lips, eyeing the bottles behind the bar. “Time for something stronger,” I say.

  “Hey, remember that time we actually went to therapy?”

  I roll my eyes. “If you can call it that…”

  “I miss you, Billie.”

  That cuts right through me. I glance at Desi and Xavier to see if they’ve heard, but both of their faces are tilted toward the TV.

  The bartender steps in front of us.

  “Four shots of something strong.” I hold up four fingers as I say it.

  “Not for me.” Xavier stands up. The game has ended and he’s shrugging on his jacket. “Wife needs me to pick up tampons.” He smirks.

  “Want to split a cab?” Desi asks.

  Xavier shrugs and I wonder if he’s ever committed to anything with a strong yes. Maybe his wife. The guys head out and then it’s just Woods and me. We don’t speak for the first few minutes and it reminds me of the comfort people grow into when they’ve spent years around each other. Our shots arrive and I slide two of them over to him. We touch the tiny glasses together and then both our heads tilt back at the same time.

  “Ugh ... goddamn,” Woods says. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m too old for this.”

  “One more, old man,” I say, nudging the second shot.

  He frowns, but his eyes are dancing.

  The second shot goes down harder. I wince against the acid burn tickling my throat. Woods looks green. The liquor warms the dead parts of me; I feel myself revving up, coming to life. This is how one becomes an alcoholic, I think. Leaning back in my chair, I stretch my arms above my head. It feels good to be out of that house, away from Satcher and Jules.

  I probably need to start thinking about getting my own place, but then I think of what Jules said about moving in with Satcher if everything goes right, and I feel sick.

  “What?” Woods says. His eyes are hazy and there’s a slight slur to his words. “Your face dropped all of a sudden.”

  I shake my head, pushing Satcher and Jules into a mental closet and locking the door.

  “I’m good. This is fun.”

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “Do you and Pearl go out drinking?”

  His eyes narrow just the slightest bit, but I know his expressions well enough to catch it.

  “No … Pearl doesn’t like the calories.” His voice is flat ... bored.

  “Oh,” I say.

  When he leans over and kisses me I’m not expecting it. My eyes are open as his soft mouth presses against mine. There’s no tongue, or spit, or roaming hands, just a tender kiss between two old flames.

  I should have pushed him away sooner than I did.

  “Why’d you have to go and do that?” I lean back to look him in the face. There’s not an ounce of remorse.

  “The spirit led me.”

  I sigh. “I better get going.”

  Woods grabs my hand. “Stay,” he says.

  I shake my head. “Another day. When you’re sober.”

  I get home around two in the morning. Fumbling with the lock, I drop the keys. I bend to retrieve them, and when I straighten up, the door is open and Satcher is staring down at me.

  I yelp, jumping back in surprise.

  “What are you doing?” I can hear the defensiveness in my voice.

  “Opening the door so you don’t wake the entire building.”

  “Where’s Jules?” I peer around him suspiciously.

  “She’s in bed. I was getting ready to leave…” His voice is low, barely a rumble.

  I have a fleeting memory of our naked bodies moving together as he spoke baritone words in my ear. “You’re so wet, Billie…”

  I shiver. It had been so easy to fall open for him. Too easy. I press a palm to my chest where it still feels raw from what happened between us.

  I stumble forward, eager to get away from him, and my heel catches on Jules’ rug. He catches me, bending his knees to loop an arm around my waist.

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “You know. You were the one making them.” I try to walk past him, but he blocks me.

  “You reek of liquor. This isn’t from what I made you.”

  “Well, last time I checked I was an adult and I don't have to answer to you about what I’ve been drinking.”

  In my mind, he’s going to try to stop me from walking to my room. I make a dash for it, but the apartment is dark. My knees hit something and I’m thrown off-balance. I feel myself falling, my hands groping uselessly at air. In an attempt to help, Satcher reaches around to grab me and misses, his elbow connecting with my eye.

  “Goddammit, Billie,” I hear him mutter.

  I’m on the floor, one leg twisted beneath me. I straighten my leg and roll onto my back, staring up at the dark ceiling.

  “Shit. I’m sorry…” He sits down next to me on the floor where I’m cupping my wounded eye.

  “I’m a loser,” I say. “A drunk loser.”

  “No.” Satcher pulls my hand away from my eye and examines it with the light from his phone. “You’re going to have a shiner.”

  I sniff. We stay like that for a few minutes and then Satcher gets to his feet, holding out his hands so he can pull me up.

  “I’m sad,” I say tearfully.

  Satcher kisses my forehead. “I know. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

  I allow him to lead me to my room, the warmth of his hand traveling up my arm and into the cold of my heart. I pull away from him, but he doesn’t leave … except to go grab a bag of frozen peas to hol
d over my eye. He sits me on the edge of my bed and kneels in front of me to pull off my shoes. Placing them next to each other on the floor, he glances up at me.

  “Who were you drinking with?”

  I lick my bottom lip trying to think up a good lie. We both know he has no right to ask me that, but I can’t look away from his eyes. I shrug. “Woods.”

  “Ugh, Billie…” He leans back on his haunches, shaking his head.

  The only light in my bedroom comes from the streetlight outside. I wonder why he hasn’t turned the light on as I study his face in the near dark.

  “Shut up,” I say. “Don’t lecture me.”

  I fall backward into the comforter and hear him laugh softly. My packet of frozen peas has fallen to the floor. I turn my head sideways and stare at it, my eye throbbing. I’ve hardly eaten anything today, the dinner Jules made mostly pushed around my plate. No wonder the liquor hit me this hard.

  I expect him to leave after he helps with the shoe situation, but he very gently peels off my jeans and then lifts my shirt over my head. I’m lying on my back in my underwear staring up at him.

  “What happened? You were in a better place. You’d moved on from the shit with Woods.”

  “And by shit, you mean my eight-year relationship with the love of my life?”

  “Oh, come off it, Billie. The love of your life doesn’t leave you for another woman.”

  We’re both silent, me weighing his words. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t hurt. It’s fine for me to know that Woods hadn’t really loved me, but everyone else knowing it makes me want to cry.

  “He made a mistake.”

  “You’re damn right he did. And he’s the type of guy who makes those mistakes. Pearl will be no exception.”

  I think of our kiss, Woods’ lips so soft against mine. I hardly believe he’d go home and confess to Pearl about it.

  “I was in a better place because of you,” I blurt.

  My hand wants to reach up and cover my own mouth. I flex my fingers. No. I’ll own this. This is what I feel and I have nothing to be ashamed of. Except maybe of the fact that I’m still lying in my underwear while we argue. I reach for a blanket and sit up, wrapping it around my shoulders. I don’t feel quite as drunk anymore.

  “I was falling for you, Satcher. But that proved to be a stupid thing to do, didn’t it? I suppose I should have consulted with the graveyard of hearts you’ve accumulated over the years.” I start to turn away, but his voice comes back at me, angry.

  “That’s not fair. You pushed me away. You’re still in love with your ex-fucking-husband.”

  He’s right, of course, but it’s not like he saw us as serious. I was just his in-between girl; the basic bitch he fucked in-between his model girlfriends.

  “Right. And you really fought back on that one!”

  “Holy shit, Billie…” He slides his hand through his hair. “It’s like you’re setting me up to fail.”

  He stands, turning to leave.

  “Woods told me why you fought,” I blurt this when his hand is on the doorknob. “Is it true? You hit him when he cheated on me?”

  “I hit him because he cheated on you,” he says without turning around.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why would I?”

  “I don’t know ... because you stood up for my honor!”

  “You left. None of us saw or heard from you for two years. And don’t forget what sent you to that place, Billie, where you left everything you loved and crawled into a hole for two years of your life.”

  “Why are you saying that?” I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The room feels like it’s shrinking in on us. Is this the way truth is supposed to feel—claustrophobic?

  “Because I can see it all over your face. You’re falling for him again.”

  If I try to deny it, Satcher will see right through me. I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from lying.

  “It’s none of your business, Satcher. You’re with Jules. Who I choose to spend my time with is not your concern.”

  He’s in my face and I don’t know how it happened. One minute he was holding onto the doorknob, the next we’re virtually nose-to-nose.

  “Say you want me. Say you want me and I’ll leave her to be with you.”

  My pulse is pounding behind my ear; I can feel the flicker of it under my flesh. My mouth falls open ungracefully. I can smell his skin, his breath is lukewarm on my cheek. I’m tempted to reach out and pull his mouth toward me, but I’ve already made one mistake tonight by kissing Woods.

  “No.” I turn my face away. “I can’t ... Jules…”

  He’s already backing up, a sad expression on his face.

  “I need another drink,” I say, standing up.

  I make it out the door and halfway to the kitchen before I feel his hands on me. Suddenly the floor is no longer beneath my feet. I gasp as Satcher tosses me over his shoulder and carries me back to my bedroom. He tosses me on the bed and I glare up at him too angry to speak.

  He points a finger at me. “No more drinking.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but he turns his back to me.

  “Sometimes, Billie, God sends an ex back into your life to see if you’re still stupid.”

  He’s gone before I can throw something at his head. I cry myself to sleep. Sober.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  There are all kinds of reasons people get divorced: they grow apart, there is abuse, they were never in love in the first place, they want different things…

  But when two people get divorced because one of them let a third person into the marriage, the person who was left behind faces years of psychological warfare they launch against themselves. Your person didn’t love you enough. Do you know how devastating that is? To realize you weren’t loved enough. I spent two years asking myself what I could have done better, scouring my memories for signs that he was unhappy. Why didn’t he tell me? I could have changed, I could have tried harder, I could have…

  Maybe I shouldn’t have waited to be better. Is that the problem with all of us—we need a reminder to be a decent wife, a decent daughter, a decent mother? It doesn’t matter now anyway.

  On Monday morning, I head to work, my shiner hidden behind a pair of huge sunglasses I borrow from Jules’ closet. I tried caking makeup over it, but that just made it more obvious. To my utter dismay, Woods is waiting for me when I open my office door.

  “God, you scared me.” I walk past him, tossing my things on my desk.

  “I wanted to talk to you about—”

  “Nothing to talk about,” I say dismissively.

  My stomach clenches. I don’t want to hear how he regrets kissing me. Apologies of that sort make the heart hurt.

  “Stop, Billie, queen of avoidance. We need to discuss what happened.”

  “No.” For a moment, I forget about my black eye and look directly at him.

  “What happened?” He’s on me in a minute, pulling off my sunglasses and examining my eye.

  “Nothing. It was an accident.”

  He has my chin between his fingers and I can feel his breath on my face.

  “What type of accident?”

  I pause. “I took an elbow to the face, it’s nothing.”

  Woods’ face darkens. “Whose elbow?”

  “For God’s sake, Woods,” I say, pulling away from him. “No one beat me up if that’s what you’re insinuating. Aside from you, of course. But the heart is easily hidden.”

  I drop into my chair, but Woods stays where he is.

  “Billie, what happened at the bar—”

  “Stop it…” I cover my ears with my hands, and when I realize how childish I must look, I drop them. “You—we were drunk. You don’t need to say anything.” I wiggle my mouse and my screen jumps to life. I’m praying that’s enough for him and he’ll leave, but when I look up he’s still standing there.

  “That’s just it. I wasn’t that drunk.”

  I stare
.

  “I wasn’t that drunk,” he says again.

  He walks over to the chair facing my desk, the one Satcher always sits in, and drops into it. Outside my window it starts to rain, water beading the glass and then trickling away.

  “You left so quickly after … we never got the chance to talk. I wanted to explain.”

  I raise my eyebrows. My mouth is dry, my heart pounding out my grief.

  “You knew where I was.”

  “You’re right. I was a coward. After what I did I was afraid to face you, especially on your turf.”

  I fold my hands on my lap so he can’t see them shaking. Why am I like this? I need to be stronger ... harder. I came back here to prove myself and I can’t even control my body’s reaction to him.

  “It’s been a long time. It’s behind us. I’ve moved on.” I imagine Satcher would snicker at that part if he was here.

  “I haven’t,” Woods says.

  “You’re getting married,” I remind him.

  He licks his lips, staring toward the window. “You only love the rain on your terms. Washington was too much; here is too little.”

  He used to say that to me all the time. He’d suggest we move to Seattle and have an adventure and I’d brush him off saying I couldn’t live in constant rain.

  “We should live where your eyes match the sky…”

  “Why don’t we live where your eyes match the sky.” I’d laugh.

  “The Caribbean?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself…”

  “Despite what you think, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I love—”

  My door opens and both of us look up at the same time. Satcher’s face is unreadable as he steps into my office. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, the top buttons of his white shirt open to reveal his collarbone. As soon as he walks in his smell is everywhere. He swallows the room and for a brief moment I forget about Woods.

  He walks directly to where I’m sitting, and just like Woods, takes my chin in his hand to examine my eye.