These Violent Delights

Stepping into my apartment, the last thing I expected to see perched on my kitchen countertops is a half-naked woman.

At first, I freeze in the doorway, convinced I’ve managed to step foot into the wrong apartment. Heavy grocery bags looped on either of my arms, while an escaped strand of hair tickles the side of my face. My mouth dangles open like a fish caught on a line. My eyes quickly scan the apartment, desperate to confirm that I’ve stepped into the wrong apartment, and this is all some massive mistake.

A framed photo of Wynn and I hangs on the wall. A photo my older sister, Grove, shot on my film camera during our trip to the beach last year. It became one of my favorite photos of us. Neither of us is posing. He’s looking down at me intently, a smile on his face, as I giggle at something he had said. Now, I’m struggling to remember what it was. But I remember that we were both genuinely happy. It was the happiest I had felt in a long time. Life was good. We were good.

The photo, in fact, confirms this is my apartment and not a mistake on my end. The woman in nothing but her lacy black underwear and breasts hanging out, sitting on my countertop, is in fact real, and once the realization hits me, a gasp escapes my mouth, my arms give out, and all the bags of groceries tumble to the floor. The pasta I planned on making for Wynn and me tonight for dinner rolls across the tiled floor. The garlic bread falls with a smack.

The girl’s head shoots my way, her head tilting slightly in confusion.

My mouth continues to dangle open, and when I see Wynn step into the kitchen, shirtless with wet hair from the shower and a bright smile on his face as he walks towards the girl, completely unaware of my presence, my stomach twists and turns. My heart thuds loudly in my chest, so loud that I’m shocked Wynn can’t hear it.

I try to find my words. Try to gather my thoughts. Summon my anger. My eyes blink rapidly as tears form in them. I imagine running at them, face full of rage, as I reach out and smack them both. I imagine grabbing nearby décor off the countertops and throwing it at them, then demanding they leave.

Instead, I do neither of these things. Instead, I lamely say: “Wynn?” And my voice is so soft, so lacking in anger, that I hate myself for it. I should be furious. I should be lashing out in anger. But I can’t seem to conjure any sort of movement in my body.

Wynn’s eyes dart my way at the sound of my voice. They widen in shock. The girl just looks at me blankly, completely unaware of who I am. Does she think he’s single? Has he been dating both of us this whole time? How could he do this to me? To us?

“Greer, what are you doing here?” His voice is full of panic as he steps away from the girl on the counter.

“I live here.” A tear escapes my eye, and I reach up to swipe it away. Finally gaining motion in my arms. “With you.” Why am I reminding him of this? Why am I explaining myself? I swallow down the lump in my throat. My hands begin to tremble. I can’t bear to look at the girl again, nor at him, as my eyes move over to our photo from the beach that hangs on the wall. I wish we were still there. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

“Shit, Greer, I thought you had class today.” He says it desperately. It doesn’t even sound like him. He sounds so pathetic. So disgusting.

“My last class got cancelled.” I peel my eyes away from the photo and, without another word, dart for the front door. I pull at my turtleneck, suddenly unable to breathe properly, as I hurry down the flight of stairs.

“Greer, wait!” Wynn calls after me, and I hear his feet smacking down the stairs to catch up with me.

Once I make it outside the apartment building, I hurry towards the parking lot, my hands fumbling in my pocket to pull out my car keys. I’m breathing as if I’ve just completed a marathon, and my heart feels like it’s been stabbed repeatedly.

“Greer, let me explain.” Wynn says suddenly beside me, hands going to reach for me, hands I know so well, but I step back just in time, causing them to fall slack by his side.

“Go ahead. Explain. I’d love to hear what your reasoning is for the naked girl in our kitchen.” I snap, my voice wobbly, and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

He blinks. I watch as he tries to think of a good enough excuse. A good enough reason for why he’s thrown our relationship away. I wait for the basic response of how it’s not what it looks like; he made a mistake, and she means nothing to him. All the lines overused in every movie. I hardly recognize him in this moment. How can he suddenly appear so different from the person I’ve spent the last two years with? The person who used to find joy in everything. No matter where we were or what we were doing. Everything he viewed as an adventure. The person who my sisters absolutely adore. My first love. The first boy I’ve moved in with. The person I thought I saw a future with.

It’s all crumbling. Everything I thought we were. Everything I thought we would be. Have I been blinded by love all along?

The revelation is heartbreaking. It’s hard to grasp my breath.

“I never expected for this to happen—” He starts off, and I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes my mouth. “No, listen, I know how that sounds, but it’s true. Our whole relationship, I never saw anyone but you, Greer. I still only see you. She’s just—” He looks over his shoulder back at our apartment building.

I fold my arms tightly across my chest. I’m fighting to keep the tears at bay. Blinking quickly, I look anywhere but at him. “We work together.” He then delivers another devastating blow.

“How long?” I ask, the words seeping out of me like molten lava. It scorches the floor around us, creating a massive divide. The sidewalk splintering in two. He feels miles away.

“Greer—”

“How long, Wynn?” I snap back.

He inhales sharply. “A few months.”

I laugh again. Then I wonder how I must look. How I must’ve looked to that woman in our kitchen. Simple, plain, ordinary. My face barely stands out amongst all the prettier ones. My brown hair is messy in a claw clip, pieces tumbling out. My face bright red from the icy air. Brown slippers and an oversized sweater. What about me wasn’t enough for him? My looks? My personality? My family? Did I not do enough? I thought we were great together.

A few months he’s been with her as well. All the things he and I did these last few months. How blind I was all along. All the laughter we shared, the sex, the kisses, the date nights. He was doing it all with her, too.

“In our bed, Wynn? In our fucking bed and apartment?” My voice raises, and a man walking his dog turns his head towards us. His dog lifts its leg on a nearby tree before they continue on. I feel sick, so I place a hand over my mouth, trying to swallow down the bile that rises in my throat.

“I tried to end things after the first time it happened. I felt so fucking guilty. Then things just got to a point where I didn’t know how to stop, and I started believing you’d never find out. I know how bad that sounds, but I had every intention of eventually ending things with her.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

“No, Greer, I’m trying to make you see where I’m coming from. I don’t want her. She’s just—she’s not anything.” He waves his hand back at the apartment building as if she’s just some minor inconvenience. “I don’t want her. It’s always been you, and it will always be you, okay? I really fucked up. I made a mistake. I’ll end things with her, and we can work through this. Please, you have to believe me.” He slaps his hands together like he’s about to break out in prayer, and his eyes are pleading with me.

“I trusted you.” My voice cracks, and I stare up at the sky. Dark storm clouds are rolling in, preparing to bring fresh snow. “I really trusted you.” He’s the one who cheated, yet I feel so embarrassed. So pathetic for not seeing any of the signs. For allowing him to get away with it for months. I never imagined he’d do this. “I’ll be by tomorrow to grab my things. Get her the hell out of our apartment.” I hiss at him and turn to leave.

Wynn reaches out, grabbing my arm quickly and pulling me back towards him. “Don’t throw everything we have away. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You threw everything away the moment you decided to cheat on me. I hope it was worth it.” I yank my arm from his grasp and continue walking to my car, ignoring his pleas. His attempts to call me back. Inside my car, I lock the doors and inhale a heavy breath. Unable to hold them down any longer, the tears begin to fall. Racing one another down each cheek.

Pulling out my phone, I call Grove. Desperate for the sound of my sister’s voice and her comfort. She always knows what to do. After Mom died, Grove stepped up for my younger sister, Grayson, and me. Helping us with homework, packing our school lunches, and filling in the empty spots that lingered in our lives after Mom passed. My dad was great, but there’s only so much he can do on his own with three daughters.

Grove answers after the third ring, the sound of the sink water on, and dishes clanking together. “Hey, I was just about to call you, then I remembered you had class—”

“Sissy,” I sob, my hand trembling as it fights to hold onto the phone.

“Greer, what’s wrong?” Her voice is panicked.

“Can I come stay with you?”

“Yes, of course. Of course you can.” She says with certainty, no questions asked.

***

I bring the blanket up to my chin, pulling my knees towards my chest as I sit on Grove’s couch. She sits beside me, a box of tissues in one hand, while the other moves gently through my hair.

I’m unsure of what the time is. If Grove had any plans prior to my barging into her apartment with puffy eyes and incoherent sobs. I’ve yet to think about what this means. How I’ll handle the apartment with Wynn and where I’ll live. I guess I could move back home with Dad and Gray, but what a step back that’ll be.

I remember when Wynn and I first found the apartment. Viewing it for the first time and how immediately we both fell in love with it. I was so excited for all the memories we’d make there. All the nights we’d spend cooking dinners together, the friends and family we’d have over, all the things we’d do. We’d been together for a year, and I wanted nothing more than to wake up next to him every night. To move out and be an adult and start our lives.

How quickly it came crashing down. An earthquake erupted without any warning, and now I’m back to where I started, only more broken, more alone, and unsure of how it got to this point.

“I honestly can’t believe he’d do that to you.” Grove says. Her apartment eerily quiet, besides my sniffles. After Mom died, all three of us fell into certain roles. We never intended it to happen. We tumbled into them. It’s as if, subconsciously, we shifted into different versions of ourselves. Searching for ways to survive without Mom around. Grove grew up faster than she hoped to. She was fifteen when Mom died and missed out on going to parties or sneaking out late at night like other teenagers were. Instead, she remained at home with us, helping Dad in whatever way she could. I fell into the role of staying out of the way. Keeping things calm and peaceful. Pretending like I was always okay. Keeping a smile on my face through tough times. I tried to fake a positive outlook on things. Grayson was young. It was difficult for her to understand the shifts in our lives. She became wild, hard to keep track of, and acted out in various ways.

“You’re not thinking of taking him back, are you?” Grove asks carefully.

“No, I would never be able to trust him again.” I say. And I know how easy it would be to accept his apology. To listen to his excuses and promises and imagine us working through this. But I’d never be able to relax. Every time he left the house, I’d grow anxious and convince myself he’s cheating on me. The trust is gone, and once that’s ruined, there’s no going back. There’s no relationship left to mend.

She nods, pleased by my response. “Okay, good. Because I don’t want to talk all this shit about him just for you to take him back. I’ll never forgive him for this.”

I smile lightly. “No, we can talk all the shit we want. We’re done. For good.” The last words come out shaky, and my eyes well with tears again. Quickly, I stand from the couch. “Do you have any alcohol?”

She rubs her hands together with excitement, standing up as well. “Now you’re talking. Wine, okay?”

“More than okay.” I say and slide onto her bar stool as I watch her pull a bottle down with two overly large wine glasses.

We clink glasses then take large first sips. It’s sweet and white, and it will hopefully cure my heartbreak for a short period of time. Or maybe I’ll end up weeping on the floor by the end of the night. What if I drunkenly call him or send him a text? “Once I start getting tipsy, take and hide my phone.”

She moves her finger in the shape of an X over her heart. “Promise.” My sister has always reminded me of a Greek statue. Blessed with a body, I thought puberty would grant me, but decided to skip over me altogether. Dark, curly hair, soft, smooth skin, and perfectly full eyebrows. The straight-line nose that Michelangelo stated was superior over all the other noses. Taking after our father with his French features.

She sips her wine elegantly, like an old black-and-white film star, and my head falls back with laughter as she puts on Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood. “You’re going to make me start crying again!”

“What? This is a female empowerment song, Greer. No more crying over that asshole!” She ushers me to my feet, and I reluctantly sway to the music. Then the main chorus begins, and the both of us belt it out loudly, heads banging up and down.

When the song ends, she continues with the theme of men hating songs in hopes of lightening the dreary mood. I’m thankful for the distraction. This afternoon already feels like hours ago. How can some days feel so long whereas others only feel like minutes? The days I want to last longer, never do. But the days I just want to end seem to drag on and on. Every time I wish that, a part of me feels guilty. Like I should be thankful I even had it at all, and one day I’ll look back, wishing I had that time back.

Maybe one day I’ll forget why this day was so painful, and I’ll only remember dancing around the kitchen with my sister inside her small city apartment.

The door then flies open, and both Grove and I look in surprise to see Grayson come sauntering into the apartment with a bottle of wine she holds high in the air, a long, red scarf draped around her neck, and a wide smile on her face, exposing her slightly crooked front tooth that has always driven her crazy, though we all love it.

“Gray, where did you snag a bottle of wine from?” Grove asks with a motherly, disappointed frown on her face.

Gray rolls her eyes. “Oh, who cares? I figured tonight we needed all the booze we could get. My poor sister has been made a fool of.”

I frown as she comes over and plants a kiss on top of my head. “He’s the fool. Not me.”

“Right about that.” Grove says and goes over to shut and lock the front door back up.

Gray eagerly pours herself a glass of wine from the new bottle she brought, then leans her arms on the counter, bringing her freckled face close to mine. “I must say, I’m not very surprised. He was always so unoriginal.”

“Yeah, right. You always liked Wynn.” I roll my eyes and move my glass closer to Gray so she can fill it back up.

“I like every guy I meet.” She shrugs her shoulders. “There was nothing about him that set him apart from every other guy out there. He had the same mindset, the same toxic demeanor, and the same superiority.”

“Well, I loved him.” I sniffle.

“No!” Grove turns the music up. “He is officially dead to us. Tonight is all about reminding you why you were always way too good for him.”

“Yes, you’ll find an extraordinary man one day who is original and a feminist and stands out among the rest.” Gray nods with certainty and downs her glass of wine. Though only seventeen, Gray is much more mature than I ever was at seventeen. Back then, I had only drunk once at my sixteenth birthday party and invested most of my time in photography and hanging out with the few friends I had. I tried my best to stay clear of drama and keep my social life limited. Gray scares me at times, as I’m unsure of what all she is into. The first time we caught her drinking was back when she was thirteen, after she came home from the park late at night, stumbling about the house. She’s never blatantly told us the things she gets into, only alluding to them every now and then, mostly when she’s intoxicated. I know she lost her virginity at thirteen to a boy who was a senior in high school and was only days away from turning eighteen. He got her blacked out drunk, took her away from the party near a set of train tracks, and proceeded to have sex with her despite her being unable to fully consent or not.

After she didn’t come home that night, Grove and I searched the woods early the following morning, where the bonfire took place, to find her naked and passed out still by the train tracks, hair full of branches and dirt. We took her to the police station to report what happened, only for her to refuse to talk, insisting she didn’t want to go further with anything as it was all a misunderstanding. Sometimes I wonder if we did the wrong thing. If we should’ve gone forward with charges regardless of her wishes. Because sometimes I think that night still haunts her and is the reason for many of her decisions.

It’s something we don’t talk about. Among other things.

“I hope he’s a poet.” Grove says.

“Or a painter, and he has drawings of her all over his studio apartment.” Gray adds. “That would be so romantic.”

“Can we stop planning my future boyfriend? I just lost the one I thought I’d be with forever.” I sigh dramatically and am forced back to my feet by both of my sisters as they begin singing at the top of their lungs. Gray flails her arms around, her bobbed chestnut hair moving back and forth.

A mix between a sob and a laugh escapes my mouth, and I pull both of them in for a hug, feeling their arms and smells absorb around me like a plush pillow. They hold me as I fight to not cry again. Grove moves her hand over my hair, smoothing it out.

“You’ll be okay. You went your whole life without him. He was only around for two years. Think of all the life you still have to live and how insignificant he will be one day.” Grove tells me, and I hold onto them for a moment longer.