Thou Shalt Not (27 page)

It certainly was complicated, but I guess that’s how life often is. I had kissed her. I couldn’t tell her “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that!” or “I really don’t think we should do that anymore!” It was done, and I had no idea what was going to come of it.

I fell asleep much more quickly than I thought, and slept soundly, because I didn’t remember anything from the moment I laid down until the time I woke up. It was already after nine, closer to nine-thirty, when I finally rolled out of bed.

I checked my phone and I had five texts. Three were from April, and two were from Holly.

April’s first text had been sent thirty minutes after she left my house. It read:
Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without you.

The second was sent thirty minutes after the first one.

He’s passed out on the kitchen floor. I’m going to leave him.

I wasn’t sure if she meant that she was going to leave him on the floor, or leave him for good. I knew what I hoped she meant.

The third text was sent about ten minutes before I woke up.

He’s awake and making the family breakfast, not even a hint of a hangover.

I felt a little strange about texting her back with him being right there in the room with her.

Oh please
.
You just kissed her last night and now you’re worried about what her husband might think of a text?

Has he apologized about last night?
I asked.

The two messages from Holly were both sent about an hour before I woke up.

You feeling better today?
the first one asked.

I will stop by and see you around lunchtime if you are going to be home,
the second one read.

Lunchtime for Holly was usually around twelve-thirty or one. She enjoyed sleeping in after a long night’s work, and I couldn’t blame her. Especially since she was going to be doing it all over again tonight. But, she was obviously up earlier than normal today. Maybe she woke up, sent me the texts, and then fell back to sleep. That had also happened plenty before. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper.

Feeling a little better today, yeah,
I replied. We weren’t anything. But there was something that was starting to bother me about lying to Holly.

I got up, showered, and fixed myself a bowl of Cheerios. I have a weird habit of never eating cereal before nighttime, but occasionally I make an exception.

My phone stayed silent as the morning crawled along. I cleaned things, tidied up here and there, but found myself very distracted mentally. Every time I closed my eyes I could see her face, smell her skin. I could taste it. I wondered what the rest of her tasted like.

April had married young, and foolishly, just like I had. Carrie and I would have ended disastrously. But, instead of becoming a divorcee I became a widower. How long would it have taken me to end things with Carrie? How many years would it have taken the two of us to see that our hearts were mismatched? It seemed like April was coming to this realization with her violent, asshole husband.

I wondered if everyone reached that point after eight or nine years of marriage, the “Oh my god, I’ve made an enormous mistake” point. I wondered, too, if that point was reached because the person saw all the better options available to them, or because they simply realize what a shit they said “I do” to.

Leaving Carrie probably never would have been an option. Nobody divorces their high school sweetheart. Those were usually the stories that inspired other people. “Oh, look at them—in love since high school. How adorable!” They were also the stories that encouraged other high-schoolers to make the same mistake and jump right in before they could even drink legally, thus starting the cycle over again. Carrie and I had been the reason a few other friends of ours had married young as well. And last I heard, one of the two couples ended quickly in divorce. The other couple was probably still together because of the sex.

April’s situation was obviously more complex. Her husband was most definitely still alive, and the two children probably didn’t make the thought of divorce any easier. The fact that Marco made as much money as he did and enabled her to at least live a “comfortable” lifestyle probably didn’t help either. Living comfortably with a man whose job took him all over the country all of the time probably made his antics easier to live with too. I guess if you could put up with his shit, it wasn’t exactly a terrible scenario.

But was comfort as important as chemistry? As important as the possibility of love? Nobody liked to admit they were wrong, that they chose the wrong person, that all the advice people gave them beforehand was actually correct. People don’t like upsetting the apple-cart. And, I think there reaches a point where people just give up, and say they are going to live with their mistakes, no matter how big they are. Or no matter how unhappy the person really is. I think those people are quitters. Happiness is always attainable, no matter how old or young a person is. They just have to be willing to stand up and fight for it. To say—”I’ve put up with this shit long enough, but not anymore. Now, I am living for myself, and my own happiness.”

I wanted to take April by the shoulders and tell her this, tell her she didn’t have to live in the lavish hell Marco had created for her. She could be happy. It didn’t even have to be with me, but she needed to be happy somewhere, with someone who would treat her like she deserved to be treated.

My feelings for April were there the moment I saw her. The way my heart had momentarily stopped when I had first seen her, and the way it went into overdrive right after that. I could see a thousand women a day for the rest of my life and probably not have that initial reaction with any of them. I liked Holly. I was really liking the woman she was becoming. But Holly had never made me feel the way April did in the first few minutes. I guess you could say that April gave me butterflies, even though that wasn’t a very manly thing to say.

And the more I had gotten to know her, the more I liked her. She was funny, sarcastic, kind, clever, and a bit edgy. Not to mention beautiful. Obviously. To me at least. But it was the way I felt around her that I couldn’t quantify with words. She just made me...feel.

And it did scare me. She was married. There was obviously no guarantee anything would happen. We had pushed a few boundaries, but it wasn’t like I could take her out on dates and plan a future with her. Not yet at least. She had to decide to leave him first. And what if she didn’t? What if she just wanted to connect with someone since she hated her husband, but really had no intention of leaving him. What if I continued this, this...whatever it was with her and eventually she moved on to someone else who could do the same for her. What if leaving Marco wasn’t an option and I was wasting my time thinking it might be, or should be? I had no idea how strong the draw of her current lifestyle really was. And there was no way in hell she would be living a lifestyle even close to that with me.

And her kids. What about them? I hadn’t even met them yet. Knowing my luck, they were probably little terrors, mini-Marcos raising hell at every turn.

Fuck. This is why I liked working. It was never a good idea to be trapped in my thoughts for too long. I needed to get out of the house. And I knew where I needed to go.

Car dealerships always creeped me out a little bit. Acres of cars just sitting there waiting for you to choose them while the salespeople circled around like vultures hoping to spot carrion. As soon as I got out of the Roller Skate, it was like a mad dash to see which vulture could get to me first. A few of them stayed back, no doubt because of the quality of my car. Hopefully for the last time.

I had always been decent with my money, until Carrie got sick and everything we had went to paying her medical bills. In the years since her death, I had finished paying them off and had started building up my bank account once again. I could have afforded the payments on a new car a while ago, but part of me felt like I had to keep Carrie’s car. I was a nostalgic person by nature anyway, and the Roller Skate was a homage to my deceased wife. But, it was time to move past that. And seeing as how I had kissed a married woman the night before, there seemed to be no better time than the present. April had awakened me, and this was a big step in continuing that process.

Holly finally responded to my text while I was at the dealership, and when I told her what I was doing she got excited.

That’s awesome! Bye-bye Roller-Girl!

Then she said,
Just know that I will be helping break in whichever car you decide on ;-)

I swear this girl thought about sex all the time. She had the mind of a guy. And normally, I wasn’t complaining.

The day crept by, and I spent most of it in the office of the car salesman who was running credit and doing the paperwork. Thankfully, I had been chosen by salesman-vulture Andy, who seemed to be the least slimy of all of the salespeople. He had steered me in the direction of an SUV after I told him the things I was interested in, and before long he was starting the paperwork on my new Dodge Nitro.

I still hadn’t heard anything from April. I knew her husband was around, but I didn’t like not hearing from her either. I wanted to text and see if everything was okay, but I wasn’t sure if it was a good time. I figured I could wait until I knew he was at the stadium before I sent another. That was if he went to the game at all. After his display the night before, it was possible the team was telling him to stay home. With the season coming to an end, maybe they would just not want him back at all.

Vulture Andy decided to make conversation. Because I was a guy, naturally he chose sports.

“Did you see the Rays game last night?” he asked, as the keyboard clicked away under his rapidly moving fingers.

“Yeah. I was there, actually.”

“No shit,” he said, clearly not caring that it wasn’t exactly proper to curse in front of your customers.

I never understood the phrase “No shit.” Was I supposed to respond, “Yes shit!” or “Maybe shit?” Or “No, I was just saying that to be a shit...shit.”

Also, the phrase “I’m just fucking with you.” I am always tempted to reply, “I didn’t give you permission to ‘fuck with me’. So, that’s considered rape, motherfucker!”

Mind tangents.

“Yeah, it was pretty wild,” I replied. Yes shit.

“God, that Batista guy. Can you believe him?” Andy said, head shaking emphatically. “I never can figure out what the Rays saw in that asshole?”

“Join the club,” I said without even thinking.

He laughed.

“I’d want nothing to do with him. Anyone who does is out of their mind.”

Fuck you, Andy
.

I got less talkative, and his work speed quickened, and soon enough I was on the road in my new vehicle.

I inhaled deeply every few minutes, thoroughly enjoying the new car smell. I wondered when the new car smell faded away, and what I would have to do to make it last as long as possible. I was also loving the air conditioning, which meant early morning showers in the school locker room were now a thing of the past. Thank Jesus in heaven.

I still felt bad for lying to Holly to keep her away from the house while April was there.

I called Holly to see what she was doing. She sounded distracted, and a little upset. Her boss had called her in early to help clean up the mess the lunch bartender had made.

Holly hated when people left her bar a mess. Absolutely loathed it. She took pride in her work, and her work station. But, she also hated getting called in early or on the days she needed off. So, this was like a double whammy.

I decided to go see her at work. I rarely got the chance to go down there when the place wasn’t hopping. It would be later that night, but it most certainly wasn’t going to be now.

The bar was mostly empty, save two men who were hunched over their snifters of brandy. The men were older and very well dressed. I was pretty sure they were a couple.

Holly had her back turned to the patrons and was returning all the different bottles of alcohol to their rightful places. I had never watched a bartender do this, and I was impressed by how methodical she was.

“Gin and tonic, please,” I said.

Holly turned, and I could tell by her body language she hadn’t wanted to be interrupted by a customer.

But it all changed when she saw me. Her mouth opened in surprise, and she did the jazz hand thing.

“Hey you,” she said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I took a stool three down from the brandy men.

“Just wanted to see the Bay Area’s sexiest bartender do her thing.”

“Well, I’m not jumping on the bar for you, if that’s what you think is happening.”

Her hands moved quickly as she made my drink. She knew the brand of gin I liked, so she didn’t even have to ask. She slid my drink over and leaned over the bar, giving me a view of my favorite white bra.

“I’ve got something you can jump on later, if you are so inclined,” I said.

“Luke!” She threw her rag at me. “We kick perverts like you out of here all the time. Ain’t that right, guys?”