Sadie (18+)

Chapter 37

I tossed and turned that night in the guest bedroom, the moon casting a luminous glow at the foot of the bed through the gap in the curtains. When sleep wouldn't come, I peeled them away, allowing the dim light to envelop the room.

I pressed my palm against my cheek, the mild pulsing which had accompanied Vincent's slap long gone. He had sent me to bed with a frozen bag of peas, insisting I hold it against my skin until the ache subsided.

The ache in my heart, however, had lingered. It was a strange, prickling sensation, a pain which started to feel familiar, as it no longer prompted tears.

It took me a long time to process what had happened, as I'd spent most of that sleepless night doing just that. I know anger, and I know regret—my mother had demonstrated both, especially when I was a child. She was not physically abusive, at least not toward me, but had acted out of anger when inebriated—breaking things, screaming, crying. While my mother was not keen on apologizing for the emotional trauma, the regret would often weigh on her shoulders and in her tired skin.

Vincent may not be an alcoholic, or perhaps not fully one, but there were signs, and I possessed similar impulses and mood instabilities. When I looked at him, in which the glances were discreet and from a distance, I saw parts of myself and my mother in him, and the resemblance was startling.

The realization of what we'd both turned into, the immoral monsters we'd become, had me avoiding him, or perhaps we avoided each other. And it was why, on that following weekend, I delved into a destructive, familiar habit involving alcohol.

Tony was back at college, as students were in the midst of preparing for finals, and he was a smart kid, which meant he took studying seriously.

I decided to try and keep him out of it—as much as I could—which meant dodging his advances, avoiding his gaze in the few days before he left, which was both for his sake and mine. It felt cruel, as only days prior we'd engaged in sexual matters on his bed, but the confusion I caused him was not intentional.

I had said goodbye to him in the driveway the day he left, reassuring him that it was my own personal issues which fueled this behavior, and I hoped he understood.

I thought long and hard about how the affair between Vincent and I had started within the time that he and I strayed from one another. It was my doing that ignited the dangerous game, my promiscuity, my tactics. I lured him in swiftly, silently, and there was no going back for the either of us. Of course, Vincent could have easily rejected me and wiggled his way out of the bait I'd tempted him with, but he didn't.

I wondered why I had been enough for him to risk it all. Was it his borderline alcoholism, issues with Gina, or possibly a sex addiction that pushed him off the ledge and into my selfish and desperate embrace? Were these issues prominent before I came along, or had I gradually pulled them out of him as the affair progressed?

I wondered if he even knew the answer. I doubted it.

The questions weighed on me, however, and even more so with a half-empty bottle of vodka in between my thighs. I sighed into the muted night, the milky-white moon looming in the dark sky, accompanied by a glowing hue. I shut my eyes and listened to the soft rustling of the trees against the cool breeze.

I was not at Julia's house, but on a bench at the local Catholic church not far from where I lived. I hadn't planned on coming here, but my inclination to wander aimlessly had led me to this very bench that overlooked the quaint structure.

The Alessi's used to attend regular mass at this church, as I distinctly remembered Julia's complaints about it years ago. I wondered what caused them to stop attending. I'd gone once or twice as a young girl, but the memories were vague.