The Affair

Chapter 23

PRESENT DAY

I don't remember falling asleep.

My head is banging and I'm hungover when I wake. I drank way too much last night. It was to a point and the point was to forget about her. It didn't work just like it never has. She's fresh on my mind, even fresher than before, from seeing her last night. How can you deal with seeing someone like that after so long? And to make matters worse she was in my dreams, looking just as beautiful as she did in person.

I wish I hadn't bumped into Hugh or stopped him or gone up to their apartment. All I did was fuck myself even more. I don't know what else I wish. That I would stop loving her as much as I do and that I could hate her the way I want to. I'd give anything to be able to hate her and forget her and just move the fuck on.

But the fire is lit up inside of me. She's fucking someone else. I'm sure of it. Who the fuck is he? What does he have that I don't? Why him?

I smoke a cigarette and then lay back down, wrapped up in the comforter, and press my face into a pillow. I don't want to be awake. I don't want to be alive. I miss her. I hate her. I love her. I want her so badly that I could cry again.

I force myself out of the bed after some time to take a piss. After I've washed my hands I stare at myself in the mirror. The places on my chest and stomach from the bullets are discolored, lighter than the rest of my skin, and I touch them gently. The hair on my chest has never grown back over the small scar, nor on my stomach, making them that much more noticeable.

I run over it again in my mind, that night, trying to think of what could have made her leave me. Of all the times for her to pick to do that... why then? Why when I was shot and nearly killed? I think of it often and try to dissect it when there isn't anything left to learn.

I shower again, then examine myself in the mirror closely. The dark circles under my eyes are too dark. My hair is completely gray now and in desperate need of being cut, I'm on the verge of growing a beard with how grown out my stubble is, and decide I need to shave. My hands shake as I do it, making it all the more difficult, but I somehow manage not to nick myself.

As I get dressed I already know where I'm going to go. Even if I'm fighting myself and telling myself I shouldn't, it's only going to make the hurt worse and deepen it, I can't stop myself. I've avoided that place since we parted and seeing her again has made me have to go there.

I have half a mind to follow her, wait for her outside of their building, and stalk her. I want to get a look at this man she's fucking now. It shouldn't matter to me, we've been over and done with for over two years, so what does it really matter? I want to get a look at him. I'd like to see his face, compare myself to him, see exactly who she's fucking now.

It's cool out, but a little warmer than yesterday, and I'm dressed for it. A sweater with dress pants and loafers. The trees are just beginning to bloom and the ground is wet from last nights rainfall. But it's slightly warmer than it was, yet windy, so it's quite chilly. It takes me some time, but as soon as I've reached the secluded area and see the bench, I stop.

It's just the same as it was before. The last time we came here was on a cool November evening. We laid down and read and drank and held each other. The thought of that makes my stomach ache.

Not even just an ache. I feel so sick. So much so that I wrap my arms around my stomach, lean forward, and rest my face between my knees. I want to cry. Seeing her again has turned me inside out all over again. Not that I ever really felt normal after she ended things. But it's as severe as it was in those months after she left.

"Benjamin."

I jump, startled by the sound of her voice, and quickly sit up straight. She's a few feet away from me and she looks beautiful, even if I don't want to admit it. The way her cheeks are rosy from the chilled air, her hair let down and shining, and she's wearing a light green knit dress with boots. Green always suited her so well, I always felt like it was her color.

I don't know what to say, but I can't look at her. So I stare down at my hands, my fingers intertwined, and can tell that she's coming closer. She sits down beside of me, too close for comfort, but I don't move.

What a coincidence. The first time I've come here since we've been apart and she decides to come, too. This is her spot, after all. She probably comes here all the time like she did before us. I had come to think of it as ours for a time, but I guess it never really was.

"How are you?"

"Never better. Can't you tell?"

But I know she can tell that I'm not okay. She knows me. Or she knew me. I don't know what she knows or doesn't know anymore. I don't know her.

"Did you really have a woman waiting for you last night?"

I sigh, then shake my head.

"No."

"Why did you say that then?"

"Why do you think?"

"To make me jealous."

"Did it work?"

"What do you think?"

I close my eyes.

"I don't know. If I knew you I might say yes. But I never really did."

"You knew me better than anyone. Still do."

"I thought I did."

She's silent for a moment.

"Are you going to read my book?"

"No. Why would I?"

"You always said you wanted to read something I wrote."

I scoff. We're going to make small talk now, as if we're friends. I don't want to be her fucking friend. I couldn't, not after everything.

"You always said you would never leave me," I mutter. "I guess we both lied to each other, didn't we?"

She says nothing, then sighs softly.

"Well, I already arranged for you to be sent a copy."

"Hugh told me. How lucky am I? I get a signed copy of your very first book."

Again, she is silent. I can't bring myself to look at her face. I'm afraid I'll fall apart if I do. But she's touching my hand and it makes me jump, I pull it away, and finally, look at her. That simple touch has sent a shock wave through me.

I want to get lost in her again, just from looking in her eyes, and the thought is completely and totally overwhelming. All those old cravings are running rampant in me. She's so fucking beautiful and she isn't mine and she's someone else's now and I can't stand it.

I can't do this. I have no confidence left in myself. No pride. There's nothing left. I have no front to put up, nothing to hide behind. It's all gone.

"I can't be near you. I can't even look at your face. It makes me... God, it makes me feel so sick."

"Oh, Benjamin..."

"Don't say my name like that. Please, god... fuck. You can't do that to me."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did. You hurt me more than I've ever been hurt," I whisper. "Why? Why would you do that to me?"

I want her to tell me why, her exact reason, and she only shakes her head.

"It was never... that wasn't my intention. You don't understand."

Anger begins to rise up from my stomach. I want to hurl insults at her. Call her names, a bitch, a cunt, a whore, a slut, degrade her. But I can't do it. As much as I hate her, however fierce that feeling is... I'll always love her so much more than that.

"Understand? What is there to understand? You left me without a god damn explanation. Of course I don't fucking understand. You fucked me, Theodora."

She's at a loss for words and I quickly stand. I'm not going to get anything from her. I'm longing for her to say she's sorry, that she loves me, and that she wants to be with me. But she doesn't care enough to explain why she left. She never cared about me, never loved me, it was all fake. After all this time it still wounds me so deeply I think I could fall to my knees. But I don't.

"Fuck you and fuck Hugh. Both of you stay the fuck away from me."

As I walk away I shake my head and try to calm my breathing. I feel as if I've been punched in the gut. I never want to see her again.