ultraviolence // kai anderson

unknown number

    Three long days go by since I'd had the unprecedented bravery to slip that napkin in Kai's pocket. I'm laying now in mine and Gregory's queen size bed, enjoying the last couple hours alone before he gets home and inevitably ruins my mood with his.
    I can't stop thinking about Sunday night: I'm not certain when I expected Kai to have reached out, but I'd hoped he would've by now. Was what he'd said just a joke that I'd taken too seriously? Was he regretting his offer? What did he mean by showing me how to live, and did it have to do with that little icing scenario? My eyes close and I picture him in that yellow sweater, and despite it being one of my least favorite colors, he'd made it work so well. Until this moment I'd been trying hard not to overthink our little encounter in the kitchen, but alone in my bed, I finally let my mind go back there. Remembering the feeling of his fingers so close to my mouth has my hand thoughtlessly wandering to the band of my pants. I'm listening to his voice in my head and imagining his hands on me when my phone rings out through the otherwise silent room.

    It's him, I think instantly, and reach over to press the answer button immediately. The word comes out in a low expectant breath when I answer, "Yeah?"

    "Hey, I'm on my way home," Gregory's voice comes through, and I'm disappointedly annoyed already. "What's for dinner?"

//

    On the fourth day, I wake up before my husband. He's turned the away from me in his sleep, the opposite of his usual position. I assume he's still upset from being rejected last night. I look him over and wonder if there's anything he could do that would make me want him that way again. It's already been more than a month since we've had sex, and I don't have any desire to change that. Not that I've ever had a particularly high libido, but past unpleasant experiences also hinder my desire for such intimacy.

    I check my phone for the first time today, and finally, there it is. A text from an unsaved number that's nothing more than a time, date, and address.

// tw

    Just two days later, I was entering the address into my Maps app and double checking my reflection in my rear view mirror. As much as I'd wanted to get dolled up as per usual when I knew I'd be seeing Kai, I thought better of it this time. Gregory knew a lot of people, and considering it was a bar and grill I was headed to, there was probability that someone he worked with would be there and could recognize me.
    Some hair hangs loosely out of my black baseball hat, and I have on a similarly colored, lightweight velvet zip up jacket. With one last glance at my now empty ring finger, I back out of the driveway and pull off.

    Once I'm in the parking lot, I can't help but add one more spray of perfume before heading inside. Is this really happening? I wonder as I search the room, attempting to keep my head down as much as possible. There are various sizes of flat screen TV hanging over all the walls, all playing some sport or another. It reeks of beer and man sweat, which makes me notice there are less than five women here total from what I can see. Every surface in the place seems to be polished mahogany except for the bar, which is black marble.
    I'm taking it all and feeling entirely out of place when I see him. Kai, in a back corner booth, hands clasped and resting on the table and those dark eyes already on me. I walk over to him with confidence then, as if I belong here just as much as anybody else.

    "You came," he seems pleasantly surprised.

    "Of course," I shrug and say timidly. I hope he can tell from my tone that the list of things I wouldn't do for him is shorter than the things I would. He looks me over and a faint smile tugs at his lips.