Sleeping With My Married Ex

Chapter 8

This isn't the loudest fight they've had. Not by far. Actually, it was one of the most quiet as far as voice volume went. But this was the first time I've heard the sound of something smacking the wall and glass shattering multiple times. Seven times so far in the last three minutes. Not that I'm counting.

I can't deal with this right now. Not after last night. Not after that kiss. There was nothing innocent or friendly about his kiss. Not like I expected it to be. It was raw and desperate and hungry and hot. It made my toes curl and my eyes roll back. It was nothing like those kisses we shared back when we were teenagers. This one coming from the man that Donovan has become.

He said it would make his life, at least night, better. I have no way of knowing if he just wanted to use me to drown out whatever anger his wife fills him with. Or maybe he wanted to kiss me. Just me. He said he hasn't cheated on his wife. That's pretty damn hard to believe. I remember what he was like back then. Always with girls. Different girls. And his wife is such an insufferable witch that I can't wrap my finger around how he manages to even sleep in the same house.  

I drop my head into my hands. I think I bit off a bit more than I can chew. I have assignments for both work and school that I need to complete, but I can only think about that kiss and what would have happened if I hadn't turned away after a few minutes.  

I run my fingers haphazardly through my curls. The worst of it all is that I didn't want to turn away. Wife be damned. Location be forgotten. At that moment, I wanted him more than anything. In the gym on the floor, on a towel by the door, in the tub, in the car, up against the mini-bar. I'm fucking my neighbor. I chuckle. Stupid, ridiculous song.

I really don't want to sit in this apartment. I should just go out, clear my head, do something to take my mind off my own wayward thoughts.

I walk into my room, which seriously needs to be cleaned -maybe I should hire a cleaning service- I dig through the bin in my closet that contains my bags until I find my small black clutch. Tossing my keys and wallet inside, I grab my jacket and head out.

I shouldn't be surprised to see Donovan storming down the hall like a man out for murder. He usually leaves mid argument. I hesitate mid-step but resume walking down. Now is not time to start acting like a girl. He reacted negatively when I avoided him because of that miss-kiss. I don't even want to think about how he might flip and snap if I begin to avoid him. Why do I need to avoid him anyway? I hold my head up high and walk to the elevator determined to show that his presense and what happened didn't effect me. That's until I look up at him and see an expression I've never saw on him and one I never expected to see. Vulnerability.

I step onto the elevator after him and ask myself, why does that expression on his face make my heart hurt? It shouldn't. There's no logical reason for it, but it does. Maybe it's because I don't like seeing my friends weakened and defeated. Maybe it's because it's him and it's weird. New. Hard to digest.

The elevator arrives on ground level and I exit. I don't feel him behind me, so I glance over my shoulder. He's standing there leaning against the wall staring blindly at nothing in particular. What did the little witch say to him? I really don't like this. I don't like that she has the power to turn him into this mindless, uncontrollable, angry zombie. What I hate even more is that whatever it is she's done, its enough that he doesn't even realize I'm right next to him. Me!

I place one hand on the elevator to keep the door from closing. "Hey!" He looks up, his eyes are no longer glazed. When I'm positive he's aware of me, I chuck my head towards the exit. When he doesn't move, I reach in, grab his hand, and pull him off. Just like that, with my fingers intertwined with his, I lead him out the building and down the street.

Mother Nature has finally decided to stick with one season. Gone are the days where it is freezing on Monday but hell hot on Tuesday. Spring is kicking, flowers are blooming, and it's an excellent day to take a way down at the Inner Harbor...with my married neighbor's hand locked with mine. I want to pull my hand away, but remembering that vulnerable look he wore I tightened instead. He squeezes back.  

There's no conversation between us, but the silence isn't awkward. It's actually rather peaceful, and dare I say comforting. At least for me. I think my self confidence chipped by his lack of awareness of me earlier on the elevator. His response was small but it was a response nonetheless, and my confidence bathed in it.

I swing his arm, the way my mother would do when I was a child, swinging it as high as I could take it. He resist at first, but my determination -along with a bit of strength- wins over and he joins me in my childlike frolic. We reach Pratt and Howard street before he finally asks where I'm taking him. "To the harbor."
"Why?"
"Because you need it."
"Why do I need to go to the Harbor?"
"I'll show you when we get there."
He mumbles and complains, but I allow him his whining. For now. At least he's not fighting me.

There's quite a crowd at the Harbor. Being Baltimore's tourist attraction, for reasons I've yet to understand, there is a bit of a crowd to fight through to get to one of my favorite spots down at the end where less people venture because there's nothing there.

I walk us along the edge, but not too close that I would slip and tumble off the walkway into the water that no person of this city would dare touch.

Reaching my usual spot, I stop and position Donovan in front of me facing the Chesapeake. "Relax," I tell him and place my hands on his shoulders to add emphasize to my command.
"What are you doing?"
"Just relax and look."
"At what?"
"Everything. Nothing. Whatever catches your eye."

He's silent but he's also not doing what I said. "I'm not good with pressure and stress. When things get too tough for me to deal with I tend to suffer from panic attacks. Not fun times. Believe me. I walked around everyday with the fear that I was dying. That's what the attacks felt like to me." Some point during my speech I start to massage his shoulders and feel him relax, finally. "They started when I was 18. I was in college full-time and working two jobs. I guess it overloaded me after a few months. I didn't tell anyone about them. Just suffered miserably by myself for two years. Tried everything to help myself cope. Almost everything. I wouldn't take antidepressants. Some things worked but not well enough. Music worked best. When I felt one coming, I would put my iPod on. Surprisingly, it was Disney music that worked best." I giggle silently. "I guess because it reminds me of a time where I had no worries besides if I wanted to play dolls or with my bike. After two years the attacks went away. I used that time to analyze what had happened and how to keep them away. I was in Tokyo for school at that time, on the beach close to my host families house, just staring out at the water. It felt like the water carried whatever troubles I had away. I felt better, refreshed, and like I could tackle anything afterwards. When things get tough now, I come here and just look, realize that not everything is as bad as it seems." I drop my hands. "I don't know what's bothering you, but maybe what helps me can help you."

I step away and leave him to wallow in whatever pity he wishes. At least for ten minutes. In the meantime, I walk back up to where Rita's Italian Ice sits between the science center and the Light street pavilion. Mango twist ice is calling my soul.

In the beginning, I never revealed that part of my life to people. It was like laying my weakness directly at the worlds feet to stomp on. But only if I see it as a weakness could it be. One of my friends helped me see it as a strength. That I felt the way I did and got through it with no support or medications is something to be proud of. The same thing isn't true for everyone. A lot of people, especially teenagers end up on antidepressants. I witnessed such things during my senior year internship.

Donovan's situation is different. I don't believe that it's similar at all, but I do believe that this low moment he's experiencing could feel equivalent to what I had experienced. Except I didn't have to go home to the source of what ails me every night.

I collect my large Italian ice and stroll back to the end. I'm actually shock to see Donovan still standing where I left him. Instead of joining him, I go sit on the bench that's a little up the hill. I spoon a mouthful of ice into my mouth, then slap my hand against my forehead to fight the blinding pain of a brain freeze. I scrunch my eyes close and rub at my head hoping the friction will create some sort of heat.

"Idiot," I hear. Donovan sits next to me and takes the ice out my hand.
I peer at him through watery eyes. "Not funny."
He sits back and stretches out. I watch him take a spoon of my ice. The pain is fading and I'm able to drop my hand. I wonder if my forehead is as red as I think it is.
"Did it work?" I pull my feet up onto the bench and watch him devour my ice.
He scoops a spoon and passes it to me. I eat it, savoring the mango taste. Gosh I love mango. It has nothing to do with the indirect kiss of us sharing the same spoon.
"It works."
"You're just saying that to appease me," I say around a mouthful.
"Yes I am." He eats the next scoop, then scoops another for me. "It helped." His turn to eat the next spoon. "Maybe it's because you suggested it. I don't know."
I wait for my spoon but he shows me an empty cup in it's place. "Boo!" I stretch out and stand up. "Let's go."
He doesn't question where. He just stands up and follows. Smart man he is.
"Scared of boats?" I ask.
"No. Why? We're taking the water taxi somewhere?"
I nodded. The taxi was parked in front of the science center about to depart. I rush us and pay for the fair. We don't travel far, just around the corner to pier five.

From the pier, we cross over President street and walk a block to Landmark theater. I give him the choice of film. Bad idea. We catch the 6:45 showing of the Source Code. I think that's the title.

I purchase some stale, over priced popcorn and watered down fountain juice. Reclining in my chair at the back of the theater I prepare myself for the movie. I have no clue what it's about or who the stars are. All I know is that it's some action thriller with a .86 probability of containing some sort of violence. Men and their actions. The previews start. So, 15 minutes until the movie begins.

"Shannon." A shake. "Shannon!"
I hear my name being called but it sounds a distance away.
"Wake up." Another shake.
I pry my eyes open. Oh lord. "Did I really fall asleep?"
"Before the movie even started."
"You lie."
"I don't lie. I have an hour and fifty minutes worth of your drool on my arm to prove it.

I wipe at my mouth. Wouldn't you know. Drool. "You can't fault a person for their actions when they're sleep."
"What about when they're high on laughing gas?"
I eye him suspiciously. What prompted that remark? "No. Unintentional intoxication of any substance warrants an automatic no-fault card."

He smiles. I never thought I would miss a smile so much. It's great to see the look of vulnerability gone and the signature smile I've grown to lo...cherish in it's place. Cherish. "Hungry?" I ask, although I'm sure he's not with him eating an entire large popcorn to himself.

"What do you want to eat?"
My type of guy. One who can eat as much as I can. "Do you like sushi? They have a restaurant one block up."
He collects the empty containers. "It's your day. I'll go where you take me."
"Be careful what you say Mr. Sinclair. I just might lure you to your death."
"I'll drag you down with me."

RA Sushi Bar is dimly lit. I guess to give it a more intimate feel. It certainly doesn't add to the Asian theme. All of the sushi places I had been to while in Tokyo were brightly lit.

Donovan tells me that he hasn't tried sushi before. Never had a desire or reason to.
"You really should broaden your horizons, boy. Too much good stuff out there to let pass by because you have no desire or reason to try ."
"Also too many good things to let pass by because it isn't good for you in the long run."
"Touche." He's talking about his wife...I think. It could just be a blanket statement, but I think the wife idea is better. "But what's the point of living if you aren't willing to try? You can't really discredit something if you haven't given it a chance."
"Not all things require personal experience to learn that you should just let it pass by. Weren't you taught to learn from others' mistakes."
"True."

I place our orders. I choose a simple California roll for Donovan. It's the most simple of them all. If you can't handle a California roll, you certainly won't be able to handle anything else. At least that's what I think.

"You know," Donovan pulls his chopsticks apart when the waitress places the dumplings I ordered as an appetizer down, "you're a bit intimidating."
I choke out a laugh. "What?"
"I've always thought so. Even back then."
This was news to me. If anything, I was intimidated by him. "Really?"
He nods. "You always seemed to have everything together. You knew what you wanted and expected nothing less. You were just so sure of yourself. Maybe that's why it's hard to believe you had low self-esteem."
"Well I did. Still do at times."
"Anthony and Stephan thought so too."
"That I was intimidating?"
He nods again. I frown. For some reason, I don't like hearing that. Many things I've been called but never intimidating. When I think of intimidating people I think of people...well, like Donovan. People who are unapproachable.
"You do know Anthony was the one who wanted me to talk to you. Said you liked me."

My mouth drops into an "O". "He lied to you. He said you wanted to talk to me. That conniving, manipulative little shit."
"Said that you told him to introduce you." He laughs.
"He's suddenly not so cute anymore," I mumble. But since we were talking about the past. "Why didn't you ever talk to my friends. Like converse with them."
He shrugs. "I didn't like them."
"No shit Sherlock. I think it took me a whole 5 minutes to figure that out. But why?"
"I'm not going to bad mouth your friends to you."
"I haven't talked to them just as long as I haven't talked to you until you moved next door."
"They were a bunch of bitches," he says so plainly that you would think it was fact. "All of them were phony. They would smile in each others face and talk about each other behind their backs."
Duh! That's how teenagers are. "Did they ever say anything about me while I wasn't there?" I want to know.
"Not while I was around. I think they said something to Anthony once. That you were stuck up and no fun to be around."
"Yet they knocked on my door for me to come out everyday."
"Phony. And didn't they stand there when some girls tried to jump you?"
I snort. "Those girls didn't try to jump me. They did jump me. And I kicked every single one of their asses."
He smiles proudly. "I know. Toya was there."
I forgot all about that. His sister-in-law was the one to pull me away. It was funny now that I think about it. "I almost kicked one of my friends ass a few weeks later."
"Good. But why?"

The waitress returns with the maki rolls I ordered. I mix a bit of wasabi into my soy sauce and dip a California roll into it. "Say aaahhh." I hold the roll up to Donovan's mouth. He doesn't say aaahhh. Figures he'll only indulge me so much, but he opens his mouth. "She liked you." I think about that. "No. At the time Anthony was seeing Kendra and Stephan and Michelle were hooking up. That left just me and her and you. She wasn't use to being the odd one out. That was usually my position. So she said that she wanted you. Not because she liked you but just because. Good?" I ask when he swallows.
"Not bad."
I smile and did another one.
"And you liked me."
"It wasn't that. It was the principle of the matter. Anthony decided he wanted to play match maker in July, right? That's when he tried to hook me up with you. But this was in November, maybe December, when she said that. We already had our own little peculiar relationship by then. So the hands off rule was in place."
He doesn't say anything. Just sits there looking at me like he was waiting for me to say something else. I roll my eyes. So childish. " And yes, I admit I liked you. There! Is your ego doing a back flip now?"
He grins and stuffs another roll into his mouth.

The rest of our dinner continues with mindless chatter about the old days and what each of us have been up to since then. It was tempting to lean across the table and just kiss him. It's what I wanted to do since I saw him at the elevator. It's what I wanted to do since I saw him at the mailbox. No way was once, twice going to be enough. To bad I want to keep my morality intact and not play with a married man. Even if said man in question was once mine, a time before he married the witch.

I don't. Of course I won't. I just lick my lips and continue to focus on the meal in front of me. But it is hard to with the tension that surrounds us. You can almost cut it was a knife.

When the check comes Donovan reaches for his wallet and says he'll pay.
"How chivalrous of you," I tease.
"I never said I was a gentleman." He pulls out enough cash to cover the bill and leave a decent size tip. "I expect you to pay me back."
I sneer. "Mail it to me. Cheap-O."
He smirks. "I'll just slip it under your door."

We don't take the water taxi back home. It's late, half pass nine, but I stroll down the street. The walk home isn't really that far. Maybe twenty-five minutes at a decent pace. That's one of the positives about living downtown. Everything is basically within walking distance. If not, there is a bus that will take you to it with easy access.

The night has cooled down a bit. I can't really see any stars because of all the lights, but I find everything relaxing. I can almost fall asleep standing up. That's wonderful considering I'm an insomniac and the nap I took at the movies.

Donovan is silent as well. He matches my pace the entire way, walking foot for foot. It was a bit comical to me. All we needed was the fugly couples shirt and it would have been priceless. That's one cliche we could never indulge in. Not while he was married to his wife. I wouldn't allow it. Today was almost a break against my code. It was too akin to a date. I would even consider it a date if the source of the entire thing hadn't been my need to comfort a friend and just something I wanted to do for sheer pleasure. And yet, it had been pleasurable. It's the least I can do. Lately it feels that whenever I'm in need of something, Donovan is there for me.

I wave to the security guard when we enter our building. The elevator ride up seems to last forever. I just want to get in the house and shower, away from the temptation of pushing him against the wall and throwing myself at him. I don't think I'll find the strength to turn away like I did last time before things went to far. Actually, I'm very convinced that I'll be the one who takes them too far. The fire he gives me, has always given me, is no longer just a small flame. It's becoming consuming. If I don't get a handle on it now, I might do something drastic. If only I had enough balls to find myself a man whore. Maybe a good, strong vibrator will work. Yeah. I'll go look for one tomorrow after work. Maybe I'll do a bit of online searching for the best one tonight.

The elevator arrives on our floor and opens. Donovan is first to exit. I'm not paying attention, so I'm very unprepared for myself colliding into his back. "Walk," I say. He doesn't. His body tenses and he's as solid and unmovable as a mountain. His attention is down the hall. I look over his shoulder to see what could be so intriguing that he would just freeze.

Ohh! My mouth drops. Looks to me like little Mrs. Witch is locking lips with another guy. The guy I usually see entering and exiting the apartment whenever Donovan isn't around. Instead of interrupting them, I snatch Donovan back into the elevator by his belt loops. The door closes and the elevator descends.

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I really like reading. A lot. The excitement and joy I feel when an author I love releases a new book cannot be compared to anything. It's a high I don't feel often. It brightens my day. My week. Sometimes, my month. Seriously. 

I want to bring that joy to others. 

Author note: Please read me.

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