Confessions About The Affair

7

Gemma's POV

I'M ODDLY relieved, yet uneasy. I head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

"Hey," Veronica walks in, pulling the sash of her robe together, "what was that about?" She looks at me.

"You heard?"

"Well, yeah. You two were very loud," she heads towards the fridge, and grabs a bottle for herself.

"I'm really sorry about that," I sigh, "I didn't know that would happen."

"You wanna talk about it?"

I shrug, "maybe some other time."

"It's okay. I don't mean to pry."

She grabs a bag of chips, and walks into the living room, "you can't sleep?" She shakes her head.

"I'm going to watch some tv. Want to join me?"

I smile, "sure."

"I've been meaning to catch up on a few episodes of Lace and Frankie."

"Okay," I follow her, and we sit on opposite ends of the couch, "I think I watched a few episodes a few years back."

"Great. I'll fill you in on the rest. I'm on season five," I look at her and smile.

"I'm really sorry about earlier. How much of it did you hear?" I bite on my lower lip.

"Um, would it be rude to say all of it?" I tense up. Shit.

"No. Just embarrassing."

"She seems like a bitch, by the way," Veronica says.

"She is. She's who I was trying to hide from at the fair. But she still found me."

I think I'm beginning to overstay my welcome in this town. Even though it's not a small town, it still seems like one. And I don't ever want to see Sabrina again. Or her son. I don't want to be part of the drama when shit hits the fan, and Jack starts asking more questions. That's for Sabrina to deal with. Not me. I will not be caught in the middle of her drama anymore.

"Wait. Is she Sabrina? I knew her voice sounded familiar," Veronica says.

I furrow my brows, "how do you know her name?"

"I bumped into her at a store earlier today. Recognized her from yesterday."

"Oh," I mumble, "yes, it was her."

"Don't worry. It's not like I'm going to tell the whole town your business. We've all that shit we don't want anyone to know."

Maybe if my grandfather was alive I would care if anyone found out. But he's dead and I have no one to disappoint.

"It's not my secret. It's hers. She's just part of my past that I'd like to forget."

"I don't think we ever forget the way someone hurts us, even when we forget about them."

If I had a beer, I'd be raising it in agreement. But I shouldn't be drinking now. I'll get emotional, and embarrass myself further.

"As much as I want to talk about it, everytime I do, I feel guilty," I say.

"Why?"

"I've been told that I talk too much. It's a genetic flaw, I suppose," my grandfather would tell the same stories over and over. And me, well I seem to always tell people too much about myself, or the things I do.

I used to be an open book, almost completely. Now, I'm just a kindle preview.

"It's your story to tell. My ex-husband would love it if I stopped telling people that I'm a lesbian. But you know, it's not for him to decide."