5:33 PM Chicago, Illinois
The rain was pouring outside. So loudly, that it seems to smash itself against the windows of my apartment in a graceful manner, sensually. With a steady rhythm, I listen in carefully, wondering if what I am about to do was well thought out or it wasn’t at all. Knowing deep inside me that I was completely wrong, I continued writing down the reasons I hated him with all my guts. I still couldn’t believe that he had cheated on me. I mean, for what reason did he do that really? Was I not good for him, was there something missing between us, or did I do something wrong to cause all of this?
Besides that fact, I let my pen write until there was no more life juice left in it. My hand started cramping. I put the pen down; God my hand hurts so much. It reminded me of school days, when we had to pull all-nighters and write up 5 essays. My hand was on the verge of falling off, so I took a break. I walked over to my laptop to see if there was anything happy for me to read. Maybe somebody won the lottery in some state nearby. Maybe I should go befriend them, and they’ll put me on their will. Maybe the war is finally over. Maybe James realized he did something terrible and came back to say sorry.
Who could that be—the devil himself, my landlord, with my bill(s) in hand. Looks as if also been have a dreadful day too. He was face was redder than when a child urinates himself at a park and everyone see him. Except his redness wasn’t caused by embarrassment, it was caused by anger. Deep longing loathe against another human being, my husband, James. At least I think he was still my husband. In my landlord’s eyes he was, and I had to pay for the fact. $357.09 to be exact. James had broken the front door to the apartment building during our fight last night. This wouldn’t be the first time he did something like this.
I, in loath as well as he, walked to my wallet and handed him what was left of my paycheck in cash. About $400, to shut him up, and he shut up with much delight. Not much later, the doorbell rang again. As soon as I got to the door I realized who it actually was, James. I had no intention to answer, so I ignored it. “Caroline! I know you’re in there! Come to the door! Open it!” He searches in his pocket for the keys and tests them out. They didn’t work, why—because I changed the lock this morning. He wasn’t very happy about that, yet I was perfectly fine. “Caroline! You changed the damn lock? What the fuck!” Sorry, I didn’t mention he used foul language quite often.
As he continued pounding on the door, I decided to go ahead and take a bath. Started the water, set some soothing music on, and stripped. James still pounding, I get in the bath. Bubbles surround me, the music wrapped me; I wanted to drown in my sorrow, but that wouldn’t be ethical. I heard James give up. He threw himself to the floor and started sobbing. “Caroline, please listen to me. I need to talk to you. I know I did wrong. Please let me in. I love you,” he voice choked, “I know you don’t believe me, I’m sorry. Take me back, what do I have to do? Please let me in. Caroline?” Sobbing. Both of us. Such idiots.
I got out of the tub, I didn’t even put on a towel, and I just walked to the door. He was on the floor. He looked up at me, but I’ve seen that face before, and it wasn’t that convincing. He got up and hugged me. No regarded to the fact I was soaked in bubbles. “I’m seriously sorry, Caroline. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was thinking.”
I stared at his eyes to check if it was truth or not. It seemed truthful, but I fell for it. He kissed my lips, with such delight, although on my side it wasn’t very delightful. I never did think he was a very good kisser. I walked away in disgust and back to my bath. I added more bubbles to it, and made the water warmer. James followed me in the bathroom and just sat on the counter and stared at me while I soaked up the bubbles again.
He started talking about how sorry he was for what he did. He just rambled on and on about it. I interrupted him, telling him to either shut up or leave because he disrupting my peace. He decided to stay instead. I ignored him. He jumped of the counter and sat next to the tub on the floor and started playing with my hair. I opened my eyes and was just there, crying. He mouthed I love you. I knew I still loved him. I mean, how could you just stop loving someone you’ve loved for five years in one night? I guess I didn’t know how, so I knew I still did.
“What was her name?” I asked, breaking the silence. His eyes dilated, “Melody. I think.” “You don’t even know her name! James!” He started sweating, nervously saying, “What does knowing her name have to do with anything?” “James! Get out, get out now.” I stumbled out of the bath and put on a towel. In a few brief seconds, so many things happened at once. He stood up to stop me, and in the process of stopping me, his phone fell into the tub, with his phone, his wallet. We both quickly reached into the tub to retrieve the items. He picked up his phone and I picked up the wallet. While drying off the wallet, two things fell out, a condom, and her number. I was in total disgust. “Were you with her last night,” I asked calmly. He replied, “No, no I wasn’t, dear.” I knew he was lying, I could see it in his teeth. Trying to change the subject of the conversation, he fumbled in his jacket pocket for a cigarette, but in the process of it, two more things fell out, female underwear and his packet of cigarettes. We both stared at the items that hit the floor.
“I can explain, Caroline. She was—,”
I spoke up, “She was with you last night, and you lied to me right in my face?”
“What James? What! You were with her! I mean, why else would you have her underwear! Because I know for sure those are not mine… Explain that, James.”
“You know what, never mind, I’m done with you!”
“What do you mean, Caroline? What are you going to do?”
“I want a divorce,” It got quiet in the whole apartment. I couldn’t believe I just said that. I felt so free. I was finally done! Finally free, finally. I kicked him out of the apartment. I went back to enjoy my bath. After a couple hours of enjoying the freedom I had just endured, I think I realized I might have made a mistake. Tears poured out of my eyes like tsunamis. I sat there in the tub, still, in the bubble-less water, with my knees to my forehead.
I got out, got dressed and laid myself to bed. Still sobbing, I cried myself to sleep that night. It was awful. I called my mother the next morning. Explaining everything that happen, the only thing she could tell me was, “I told you he was no good for you, dear.” I keep saying, “I know, I know.” I should’ve listened to my mother six years ago. I was only twenty-two, naïve, and not even out of college yet. But I thought I knew everything, even though I obviously did not.
I made the decision that I had to get away for some time. My mother was living in Liverpool, England, so I decided to go ahead and plan my trip over there. Imagine that, me in Liverpool, weird. One thing I knew, it was different from Chicago, and at least I hoped so. Just one more week of work, save up some money, and on my way I’d go, to Liverpool. Maybe I should practice my accent, to blend in, so I wouldn’t seem like some American tourist. Still wonder how my mother has survived there. I should have never left in the first place. At least now I realized that, the hard way.
Time certainly stopped itself today for a moment. Bed had never felt so great. Although it was a pretty regular night for me. Cuddled up to my loving dog, Sara. She sure is a beaut, and she’s all I have right now, since Laura, the ex-girlfriend, has been long gone from the picture. I think it’s been over six months now. I see her everyone now and then. Walking down the street or shopping for groceries, getting a morning cup of coffee, and what does she do when she sees me? She doesn’t even look me in the eye, as if she never knew me. As if we’ve never meet. I still don’t remember what is I actually did to her for it to end that way. Well, the saying is right, first you’re strangers, and then you’re friends, then lovers, then strangers again.
The turn of life sure is an odd one. I do remember one thing, the day she left my life. Man, that day was very strange indeed. That morning, the postman disappeared, mid-job. Also, a freak storm was settling in the east, near my place. And final, she walked away without an explanation or bye. I came home from work that evening, tired and bucked out, to find her in the living room with her things packed and ready to go. She told me she was waiting on a taxi, and that’s basically it. I heard a car honk and then she was gone.
So here I am now, at my lonely house, laying in my bed, drinking lager while I’m watching PS: I Love You with Sara, my boxer. Some of my friends say I’m living the dream of being a single man and all, but I haven’t yet grasped that concept fully. But I can’t let that stop me. Work was fun today. Quite a few new people started, I had to train a few of them. While talking to the new employees, I pondered why they even hired them in the first place. Those poor people for exceptionally lost.
One girl I was training was breathtakingly beautiful. I’ve never seen such a wonderful face, bright and ready to learn her new job, but dear lord, she was dumber than a teenager trying alcohol for the first time in their life. As if she had never been to school, or worse, as if she had never used a phone in her life time. Turns out she was just the daughter of the president of the company, and apparently was grounded for something she did. Her punishment was working for his company for a month as one of us poor folk. I wouldn’t mind staring at her for a month. As long as I’m not the one helping her anymore.
I’ve become the image of a man with no actual life. I spend my nights working on stories and book I’ll never finish in my life time, and playing with my dog. Maybe every now and then I watch some TV, but the television has become so drab lately. Nothing interesting, it’s all the same, even the news. Everything is so sad around the world. I actually sleep earlier now-a-days. I life now consists of work from nine to five, then a trip to the local library, then the movie rental shop, Chinese take-out, and going to bed by ten. I don’t even go to parties that much. Laura was the one who always found parties to go to on the weekends, and new places to go visit. I never knew how.
I’ve been to the library so often now, the librarian flirts with me while I’m there. I go basically every day now. Getting a couple new books every day, and reading them in a couple hours, because I have no life. I already have a spot in there. It was cozy table beside a large window where you can see a good part of downtown Dublin. It’s quite beautiful. As I read my books, I imagine the story coming to life below me in the streets ahead. That’s why I chose the spot. It’s a place where I could let my imagination explode as far as I can allow it. I’m currently reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. I certainly do love this man’s writing. He was genius. Work has placed its dirty head in the way of my reading though. It’s been taking me a while to finish it. I try reading it during breaks at work, but it’s too noisy there, so I’d save it for the library. Unfortunately it was closed today. There were repairs being done, so I had to read at a coffee shop instead. It wasn’t the same, but I got some pages turned.
The movie was half way over, so I got up and got more lager, when the doorbell rang. It was almost midnight, I wouldn’t know of anyone who’d like to talk to me at that time. I’m not a very interesting person. I opened the door, to my surprise it was the girl from work. The daughter of the president of the company. “Hi. What are you doing here?” I asked, utterly confused, how did she even find where I lived—oh yeah, president’s daughter, employee records. But why? Plus, she was crying. I did even know this girls name.
“I saw your light on. Can I come in?”
“Sure, sure, come on in,” she walked herself in. She looked different, this morning she was all dressed up like a business woman, heels and all, and now she’s in sweats and a large shirt with her hair in a bun and no make-up and a face full of tears. “Would you like a drink?”
“*Sniff* why not,” she wipes the tears off her face with her sleeve.
Talking from the kitchen I ask her if she liked lager, and then she asked me, “What’s lager?” I got her some water instead. “I never caught your name, dear,” I asked while handing her the glass.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth Wanger. I’m Joe Wanger’s daughter. You know, the big cheese of that dump you work in.”
“I wouldn’t call it a dump, I do get paid pretty well. Anyway, why are you here? How did you even know where I lived?”
“I checked the employee records.” (I knew it.) “You’re name is Cathal, right?”
“Yes, named after my grandfather. Sir Cathal Jordon. Great man indeed.”
“Cathal sounds like asshole. Did you ever get bullied as a kid because of that?”
Did she really just say that? “Hm, no I did not. Elizabeth, how old are you?”
“Does it matter?” She started moved closer towards me on the couch. I knew what she had in mind, I could see it in her eyes. She sure was beautiful, but odd, very odd. She got in close and touched my lips with hers.
“Wait,” I pushed her away. “How old are you, Elizabeth?” She continued kissing my neck and put her hand up my shirt. She mutter that she was seventeen, if I heard right. I pushed her off of me.
“What are you doing? Don’t you want me?”
“Not if you’re seventeen, dear. I’m twenty-six. You’re still in high school, I believe, and I’m working for your dad. I wouldn’t want to lose my job.” She was quite upset after I said that, so she left muttering, slamming the door on her way out. It had been six months or so seen I’ve actually kissed a woman, none the less sleep with her. And with that little girl, out of the question. Some of my mates would probably think I was out of mind, but I know I’m not. It just wouldn’t be right. I went on the watch my movie in peace.
“Chicks are crazy, right Sara?”
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