Chapter 8

Eric turned to leave and his back told me all there was to know.

A voice can say "No" or even shout "NO!!" And still you may wonder if there isn't a small "yes" in there. Especially when the "no" sounds so intense. But when a back turns on you there is no room for doubt. There was none for me when Eric rose, turned and walked out on me.

What had I been thinking?

How could I have been so stupid to suggest it had all been a dream? Just because I had decided it had better be? Maybe at first I had been in a dreamy state. I am certain I was. But that was not the case the moment I betrayed him, was it?

I could have said "no" to Phil when his voice woke me. I should have. Of course he would not have taken that for an answer. Not Phil. After all these years of flirting and making passes, I should have known to kick him in the balls.

But I didn't, did I?

No.

I just pretended to be asleep. I even kept pretending when he talked to me. But I was wide awake when he licked me into that first bombshell orgasm. That is when my betrayal started. I took his cock in my mouth. I gave him gladly what Eric and I had lovingly taught each other. All of it. All the feeling. All the emotion and the intimacy.

And it wasn't "just sex."

I am not a woman who does "just sex." Sex is part of me, of who I am. I gave myself to him, not just my body. I didn't just allow him to have me, I enjoyed him. I made very sure that he'd get all of me. That he would enjoy me as much as Eric did. And even more.

Even more.

Only after I got caught did I return to my senses. No, that's another lie and another betrayal. I never left my senses. I never had to return to them. I just covered everything up. I tried to be as clever as the bastard. I moved my true self away from Eric to protect my betrayal. I stole myself from him, I robbed him of myself.

Tell me, which is the greater betrayal, the fucking or the denial?

But I am not good in the role of the bastard, am I? I guess I'd love to be, but I lack the talent and the guts. I can't live with it and go on. In the end I make quite a sorry bastard.

So I collected all my courage to meet my twice-betrayed lover. I was scared. I needed so much for him to understand. Maybe not so much as to take me back, but enough to make him understand how sorry I am. For yes, I am sorry. Maybe for all the wrong reasons, but I do hate what I have done. To Eric, to myself and to the child inside me. Even to Mary, my one-time best friend.

I needed to understand what happened and why. Why? Could I tell him why? Did I even know why? In the end I could not even tell him the "what."

I lied to him once more.

A dream, Eric, I said. I could not help it, I said. He seduced me while I was asleep. And when I woke, it was too late, Eric. My body had taken over. I am so sorry, Eric. But it wasn't me. I did not want it! Truly!

Such damn bullshit. I should have known that he is too much of a man to fall for that. Shame on me.

I guess this is it. I blew it. And then I fucked up again. I have to accept it. Gather the shards of my broken life and try to glue them together. If I'm lucky the new life might give me some shelter. For me and the damn child. It will be hard, though, with all the missing parts.

Like, where does one find a roof?

I have been living with my parents, these past few days. They live in Brooklyn in a big rambling old house. There's room enough, even with the baby. But I can't stay there. I can't be their little daughter again. They try so very hard to make it easy for me. But I can't.

I am an asshole, not a sweet daughter.

I can't go to Mary, either. It would be too painful, even though she does not know about me and her husband. It might even be less painful if she did.

Which brought me to the question I had not asked myself until now. Strange that I had not. It was the question how Eric could know? Only Phil and I knew. There had been nobody else, had there?

Phil must have told Eric, the bastard. Just to brag and gloat and triumph. Damn asshole, but who is calling whom an asshole? Of course it was Phil who told Eric. I should have known. It was the eternal fight for the top of the ape colony. Boom-boom, chest banging. "Me Phil, you Wimp."

And all because of me, stupid silly selfish moron slut.

I looked at a few nice small apartments on Manhattan and decided on one close to work. Insanely expensive, but well, I'll work hard anyway. What else is there to do? Work until my belly stops me. And after the child is born? We'll see. Grand parents? Daycare?

I've got my future carved out for me. Or into me, rather.

I never saw him until he had already sat beside me. Phil. He looked impeccable. Blue suit, tie, smile.

"Mary left me," he said.

"Don't do this, Phil. Please leave," I said.

I hated the blush that flashed up from my chest.

"I don't care that she left," Phil went on, his smile in place. "So much better this way."

I rose, intending to go. But he put his hand over mine.

"Don't," he said. His voice had an iron quality. Steel in velvet.

"Don't leave without hearing me out, Irene."

I sat down.

"Irene, I have always wanted you. Ever since we met I knew I had to have you. I married Mary only to be near you."

I tried to pull my hand out of his. He is strong.

"Irene, I know that you always felt attracted to me."

My eyebrows flew up in amazement. I tried to interrupt, but his fingertips were on my lips.

"Sssssh... I know, Irene. You always stopped my advances. But there are no's and no's, Irene. You know it. You know how you hesitated at times. You were such a tease, girl. But in the end I was right and you know it!"

A flash of triumph lit up his cold blue eyes. I had succeeded in pulling away my hand. I rose, grabbed my purse and left the place in a hurry.

My heart surely must have been heard throughout the restaurant.

Work was a blessing. At least for me it was. I must have been a monster for the people around me. Especially the ones working with me. I never stopped. I came in an hour early, worked through lunch hour and left with the cleaners.

I never felt so energetic. It was easy to concentrate. There are preciously little distractions left after you burn all your ships. I grabbed every opportunity to travel. Many colleagues with spouses and happy families were glad to let me do it for them.

A few weeks flew by this way. Phil kept calling me, I never responded. In a way I was glad he did, as each call eroded more of the embarrassed attraction that still seemed to tug on me.

The one I wanted to call never did.

I did not have the heart to phone him. He was always in my thoughts. There were too many little things to remind me of him. I had put away all the jewelry he gave me. Even all the things we had bought together.

He had sent me an e-mail, but it was totally impersonal. He gave me a time-slot to get my things from the apartment. Dad helped me. It was an ordeal I tried to work through as quickly as I could. I'm sure I left a lot behind. I did not care. It was just too painful to see what we had. And what I threw away.

Then Mary called. Her voice sounded hoarse, guarded.

"Irene?"

"Mary."

"I feel so sorry."

"Why would you, Mary?"

"I feel sorry for what happened."

"Thank you. So do I."

Silence.

"I left Phil."

"He told me."

"You talked to him?"

"He talked to me."

Silence.

"Could we meet, Irene?"

"Why?"

"There are things you don't know."

"I know enough, Mary."

"No, you don't."

Silence.

"Please. Let's talk, Irene."

"I'd rather not."

"Please?"

"When?"

"This afternoon?"

"Okay. But don't accuse me. I can do that myself."

"I won't, I promise."

Mary looked gaunt. Her skin was pale, her eyes deeply sunk. Her lips were painted a very dark blood red. She'd colored her hair too. It was a glossy black. It made for a very dramatic framing. When she walked into the bar, she moved like a cat. The black silk suit seemed glued to her body. The boots she wore had very high heels.

I had never seen her like this.

I stood to shake her hand, but she hugged me. I noticed bones. She must have lost a lot of weight.

I avoided her lips. We sat down.

"You, eh... look good," I said.

She grinned.

"So do you. Pregnancy becomes you, honey."

I sucked in my breath. The subject of pregnancy always seemed to do that to me, of late.

"Anyway," I said. "You needed to talk."

My question made her eyes stray. A waitress came to our table. We ordered wine. We were silent until it came. Her dark nails touched the glass. I sipped from mine and felt my memory return to the last time we drank white wine together on that damn terrace.

"Well?" I said, shaking off the memory.

"First let me tell you how sorry I am for what happened."

I raised my hand.

"First let me tell you it is silly for you to be sorry, Mary. Phil and I did this to you and Eric. We did it willingly and I don't want to discuss it."

"I saw it," she said. Her voice was calm and she had already started talking before I had finished. I almost missed it.

"You what?"

"Phil planned it all. Then he made me watch."

A buzz invaded my ears. I felt a slight nausea. I set the glass down with a shaking hand.

"You see, Irene, Phil could make me do anything he wanted. I was his submissive. He loved to humiliate me. I accepted it. I could not stand to lose him. I loved him. I guess I still do."

There were tears in the pitch-black corners of her eyes. She let them fall. They made spidery traces on her white cheeks.

"Mary... ," I said. My voice trailed away. She looked so very lost. A child. I needed to take her in my arms. But I could not. I was part of her pain. I was part of what caused it.