Dear Maria (on hold)

Part 22

 It was shortly after 10:00 a.m. on the third Saturday since Maria and I had eaten that intimate, romantic dinner at her house, and had slept together for the first time. We were in my living now, watching television, though why we'd even bothered to turn the TV on, I'll never know. I had no clue as to what was playing on the TV, maybe it was a cooking show, but for all I knew it could have been Sesame Street. I was simply too wrapped up in Maria to notice, and too in love to care.

Maria's left hand was pressed against the back of my neck, holding me to her as we kissed. I ran my left hand up her side as she deepened the kiss, and I sighed softly against her lips as the warmth of her body seeped through her t-shirt. Her right hand slipped beneath my tank-top and trailed slowly up my back, higher and higher, ever so slowly...

Maria had stayed over at my house again last night, and we hadn't yet changed out of our nighttime attire, so we were both still in our pajamas when the doorbell rang. Maria groaned, and I kissed her for a moment longer, both of us reluctant to stop and get up. Finally, I managed to haul myself up off my couch, pulling Maria up with me, and we stood, smiling at each other. I grabbed my bathrobe off the back of the couch where I had discarded it earlier, and ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to smooth out the snarls, so that I looked somewhat presentable. I straightened my tank-top and pajama shorts self consciously, wondering who could possibly be at my front door. Maria, on the other hand, left her hair just as messy as it was, the white XXL t-shirt that was all she was wearing, other than underpants, falling halfway to her knees. I smiled at her self-confidence and casualty, taking her hand and towing her along with me. God I loved this woman.

“Hello?” I asked. I opened my front door, fastening the sash around my bathrobe, tying it tightly around my waist. My confusion as to who would be at my door at 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning was immediately extinguished, and I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs as I gasped softly. I stood there, frozen, the carefree feelings of love and relaxation of only moments before vanishing instantly. Next week would be the six month anniversary of Maria and I meeting, which meant that it was about six months since I had last seen my ex-husband. I didn't have anything to say to the man who stood before me. My mind went blank, and the first word that popped into was, Shit. The second was, Maria.

“Holly,” Danny stated, his tone surprised. I looked up at his familiar face (he'd always been a foot taller than me), and pulled my bathrobe tighter around my body self-consciously. Why, I don't know; he'd certainly seen me in much less. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

“Uh, Danny,” I said, and even my voice sounded numb. I could barely move my fingers to grip my robe, and the rest of my body wasn't being much more cooperative. However, my mind was reeling, and seemed to be working at twice the normal speed. Still, I didn't know what to say. “Um, come in?” I invited, though it came out as more of a question. He nodded, and I realized that he was waiting for me to move out of the doorway. I stepped to the side, my hand automatically searching for Maria's. Her hand found mine, and I slipped my hand into hers. Danny turned around to close the door behind him, and in that second that he had turned away, I flashed Maria a panicked look. When Danny turned back around, he saw Maria and I glancing at each other out of the corner of our eyes. There was no reason for me to be guilty that he had “caught” us looking at each other, right? We weren't married anymore, and yet, that feeling of guilt persisted. Maria tugged on my hand to get me moving, for which I was grateful. We walked out of the entry way, and into the living room. I gestured abstractly at a chair, offering it to Danny. He sat down, and looked up at me with curiosity, and something else that I couldn't quite identify.

“Is this... a bad time?” he asked, he eyes shifting to Maria for a fraction of a second before darting back to me. I realized for the first time how awkward this must be for him: finding his ex-wife with another woman. I'd been previously too caught up in how awkward this was for me: my ex-husband walking in on me and my girlfriend in our pajamas, looking like we'd just gotten out of bed. I groaned internally.

“No Danny, don't worry about it,” I assured him. Wow, two minutes with this man and I was already back to lying compulsively. “But... would you give us a minute to get dressed?” I asked, feeling incredibly exposed, though I doubted it actually had all that much to do with what I was wearing. Being in the same room with Danny and Maria at the same time felt like I was split in two: the life (or rather, the lie) I used to live, and the life I lived now.

“Sure, sure, take your time,” he agreed readily. Perhaps my unease was contagious. Either way, it would do us all good to have a minute to ourselves. I smiled, though it was really more of a grimace, and fled to my bedroom, towing Maria along with me.

“Is that...” Maria hissed, her voice hushed, trailing off, not needing to finish the question. I nodded.

“Yes,” I whispered. “It's my ex-husband.”