Heartbreak
Callie:
He would depart his office for a late lunch every Monday afternoon, like clockwork. Instead of fueling his energy he would find himself at the Motel 6 on Gretna Street. It wasn't the ideal location for a hookup, but it had slowly become 'our' place. Each meeting grew more passionate than the previous, and I knew deep down he was slowly starting to forget about her.
I had often asked him if she were pretty, and I also wondered if it was she he would be thinking about during our lustful acts.
"Callie, forget about her. Of course she is beautiful, she's my wife after-all. She doesn't please me in the ways that you do," he caressed my neck into his strong hands. The warmth of his blood heated me, and I could feel his heart pounding profusely through his skin.
"I'm falling in love with you, Stefan," I attempted to catch my breath, "I know we promised each other this would never go any further than casual sex, no strings attached, but I can't help myself."
Just as I finished my sentence shakily, confessing my love for him, he sunk his lips into mine. Our bodies became entangled as figurative fireworks exploded all around. I felt weightless. He lifted me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist as we made our way into the bedroom. He sunk me down gently onto the satin sheets as he continued to kiss onto my lips, and began making his way down to my neck and below...
I awoke from the near lucid dream drenched in cool sweat droplets throughout my body, mascara smeared it's way onto my pillow from the tears that had escaped my eyes yesterday. My head pounded painfully from the hangover I didn't have, and my eyes burned bloodshot red. I felt the quenching for thirst from a long night of dehydrating myself from crying for hours on end.
I checked my phone yearning for there to be a message from him, but there was nothing. He wouldn't return my calls, he wouldn't respond to my messages. I would call endlessly only to listen to 4 rings, followed by the pick-up from the deafening receiver which would only repeat the same taunting messages:
"We're sorry, but the person you are trying to reach is not available. At the tone please record your message. When you are finished recording, simply hang up or press one for more options."
After my third attempt I had stopped listening to the recording. Each time would become more heartbreaking than the last. My mind was left on repeat over everything that was said, and the things I had left unsaid.
What did I do wrong?
I texted my best friend, Melanie, the only person who had known about the affair. Beggingly I urged for her to come over to aide in drowning away my sorrows.
I need you, please. It's urgent. -- Cal
It didn't take long for the taps on my door to sound off within my apartment. I hesitated before opening the door to see her standing in the corridor with a mound of DVD's, and unforeseen amounts of chocolates.
"Saddle up girlfriend. I've got everything needed to cure a heartbreak. Romantic comedies and sweets galore," she welcomed herself into the place, settling the contents in her arms onto the countertops.
It took everything within me to concentrate on "The Notebook" but the movie itself was nauseating. Just a week before, that was the love I had felt for Stefan in my bones. That was the love I was hopelessly clinging onto.
"This is your favorite," Melanie exclaimed as she pushed the pause button, freezing the movie on the scene where Allie and Noah are finding themselves still in love during the infamous boat scene surrounded by swans.
She rotated her body to face me, her eyes stared right through me like a pair of daggers, "Callie, I'm not going to let you sit here and sulk over a man who wasn't rightfully yours. He's married. What if he told his wife?"
I shook my head in denial, the truth in her words cut through me like shards of glass, "He wasn't going to tell her. He didn't want to hurt her. She didn't please him, he said."
She clapped her hands mockingly, "So he proved to you he was a tool. He used you, Callie! He got what he wanted from you. You're lucky it lasted this long. Her not pleasing him isn't an excuse to start an affair, that's why there's marriage counseling. Put yourself in her shoes for just a moment."
My mouth dropped open, "You're supposed to be my friend. You don't understand. I loved him. It was supposed to be no strings attached, Melanie. No feelings. No emotions. Just sex. I couldn't stop myself."
She wrapped me in an embrace, running her fingers through my obscenely knotted and unbrushed hair, "It's going to be alright."
Like a waterfall, the tears began falling almost as quickly as they had stopped. My chest tightened and it became harder to breathe as I wept into her shoulder.
The remnants of the sweets were scattered across the coffee table as the clock drew later, "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I could call in sick out of work tomorrow. I know you need me."
I shook my head refusing her offer, "I'll be fine. This is just another heartbreak. It'll stop hurting soon. He wasn't mine to love and to keep, like you said."
She smiled somewhat guiltily as she collected her bag and the DVD's, and made her way to the front door. She closed it softly behind her after flashing me another one of her reassuring smiles. I was left there alone to stare at my ceiling and ponder over the memories of Stefan and I. I was reminiscing over everything that once was, everything that we were in an attempt to find where I had gone wrong. I came up empty.
The sex was passionate, the kisses were passionately, the conversations were passionate. She was the only common denominator.
I had caught glimpses of her a few times before through a polaroid picture Stefan kept in the slip of his wallet. She had porcelain skin and auburn hair, a clear complexion, golden brown eyes that were enough to lure any man in. I knew what he had seen in her and for it I didn't blame him. She was effortlessly perfect. I envied her. There were many nights where I wanted to be her, laying beside a man as perfect as Stefan. A 6"3, broad shouldered, tattoo sleeved on both arms, and his back covered in one tattooed piece. His hair was a shiny jet black shade, always slicked to one side, and the back kept near bald. His beard was never longer than a two day stubble. He was a busy man but maintained a muscular physique.
In the end, however, I could see why a man as perfect as he wounded up with a woman equally as perfect. She didn't see it that way.
"Katherine isn't you. She doesn't see the good in anyone that's in front of her, she only notices the good in herself. When I married her things were much different between us. We were passionate for one another, had plans for the future. We wanted the All American Dream; a house on some land surrounded by a traditional white picket fence, a couple of kids running around and keeping us on our toes. I was going to retire by the time I was 40 and travel with her when the kids moved off to College. After the wedding everything changed. I was never home much, but when I was Katherine didn't notice me. She didn't take interest in my cravings for her. I would try everything to gather her attention; breakfast in bed, spontaneous gifts, showering together, flirting with her while she prepared meals. All of my attempts were shut down as if I was her husband as a label, not her husband in the bedroom. Then I met you."
I fell into a deep slumber replaying Stefan's description of his wife in my head. I was deep asleep almost as deep as I had been in thought. I knew now the only way I could see him was in my dreams, and I craved those lucid dreams. Tonight, on the other hand, the dreams were more dark. There wasn't sex with Stefan, it was blackness. Thick blackness that seemed to have no end.
It was as if my memory of him was disappearing as fast as he had disappeared out of my life.
