I can’t remember how I got here. He’s asleep next to me. At one point we were both awake, I was crying onto his pillow because I can’t believe or get my head around the idiotic and totally unforgivable thing I have just done. I haven’t ruined just my own life but the life of Cheryl’s and my little girl’s. His fingertips were running along my back, his nails are so short I couldn’t feel them. I wanted them to me Cheryl’s fingers; I wished it was her skin on mine and her fingernails leaving little red marks on my skin. I thought If he was asleep it wold be easier for me, I thought It would make me forget but how can I forget what I don’t remember? I just wish this didn’t happen, I wish it was one of those messed up dreams I normally despise having. So now I’m lying in a random bed. A bed that’s not like the huge comfortable one at home. The matrass seems old and every time I move it makes a noise. I look around the dim room to avoid looking at him, it’s barely decorated. Like everything else the wallpaper and carpet seem old. The wardrobe has just one door and the rug on the floor has a huge red stain on it.
I sit up and shuffle to the edge of the bed swinging my legs over the side. I take the sheets with me holding them protectively over my modesty. I hope he doesn’t wake up before I have a chance to sneak away. This isn’t how I should be spending Boxing Day …. Or any other day for that matter. “Kimberley?” His voice is still full of sex, its sleepy and raspy making memories flood back to me. I don’t reply, I don’t want him to talk. I don’t want to be here anymore. I have to fix the mess I have created. “Kim?”
“What?” I close my eyes waiting for him to speak. The room smells distinctly of him mixed with sex and I’m sure I can still smell the alcohol I was stupidly pouring down my neck before I jumped into bed with the man I swore all those years ago I wouldn’t even speak to again.
“Are you going already?” He sounds more disappointed than anything and when his hand touches my lower back I move slightly. Just him touching me now makes me feel sick. What have I done?
“I … this was a mistake” I twist around to look at him. He’s propped up on one elbow and I can tell by the look in his eyes he doesn’t want me to go because he hates sleeping alone. He wants the warmness of my body on his skin, or anyone’s body actually because it doesn’t matter who is in his bed as long as he’s not by himself. And as silence falls upon us for a couple of long seconds I can hear the engines of cars flying down the narrow road outside. Its only 6am and the street lights are still on pouring through the naked window creating strips of yellow light illuminating the cluttered floor.
He goes to argue but he stops himself, he just mutters a ‘whatever’ almost angrily and he turns back around so his back is to me. He couldn’t have possible thought this was anything more than a fling. He must have known that I would wake up regretting my actions. It was just a stupid mistake, probably a mistake that I will regret for the rest of my life. I stand up, pulling on my lace underwear from the floor. I do it quickly while he’ still looking the other way, it’s funny that isn’t it? I’ve just had sex with him then laid next to him in nothing but my own skin but here I am now hiding as i expose myself again to pull on item after item of clothing. There’s no talking there’s just silence, a lot of it and I’m glad because I already feel sick without having to communicate with him. I find my top on the floor too and pull It over my body before wriggling into my jeans scrunched up in a ball on the mid messy floor. And when I’m fully clothed I fall back onto the bed. I put my head in my hands and I think about Cheryl. I think about her smile and her laugh that I adore so much but I doubt she’ll be doing that now. I bet she’s awake at this early hour, probably crying onto her pillow. All alone in the huge bed that she normally curls up by my side in. If she knew what I did last night she’d hate me, but I think I win because I hate myself more than she ever could.
