I swiped at an angry tear that was ripping across my face and smiled venomously. “So, it’s about sex then?”
Caleb threw up his hands in exasperation and looked at me with more anger then he ever had.
“I think that I showed you time and time again, that it was never about sex,” his voice was low and menacing. “I loved you enough to put aside every one of my feelings to accommodate yours. What did I get in return? Coldness and emotional detachment. You are selfish and bitter and you wouldn’t know a good thing if it fell out of the sky at your feet.”
I knew what he said was true. I was all of those things and more, but he could have just left, he didn’t have to make a fool out of me.
“Well then, let the healing process start for you right now.” I left him standing in semi-darkness and walked calmly to the nearest exit.
You will not hurt, you will not hurt, you will not hurt….
I hurt like hell. I hurt so violently that I could barely walk down the stairs, so I sat. I sat and I shook and I wished for a meteor to fall to earth right at that moment and hit the spot where I was sitting. I felt raw and exposed like all of my insides had been turned out and I was bleeding all over the floor. How could this happen? Why? He was all that I had.
I heard the exit door a flight above me open and a burst of music followed the breeze down the stairs. Fearing that it was Caleb coming to find me, I hopped up and ran the four remaining flights not stopping until I was in my car.
I turned the key in the ignition with force and the car hiccupped to life.
Damn him. I could love. I had it all inside of me. If he knew so much about me, why couldn’t he see that?
If I didn’t love him, how could it hurt so badly? Nothing, gave him the right to cheat—nothing!
Instead of heading home my tires swerved right and I merged onto the 595 almost sideswiping a minivan. He had all of me, everything I had to give, and look what he did. I trusted him.
“No, no, no, no,” the tears started pouring in masses down my face. “This can’t be happening.” I pulled over, afraid I was going to kill someone with my driving. My mind was unhinging, my light was turning dark.
“Caleb, no,” I tasted salt seep into my lips. I hated myself, more than I hated him and more than I ever hated my father. I was a tragic mess. The ugliest kind of person. I started driving again. I couldn’t go back home, he would come find me. A hotel was still booked, just a couple of hundred miles north, I would go there.
Caleb tried calling my cell phone. I sent his calls to voice mail and turned up the volume on the radio, anything was better than the sound of my sobbing.
The hotel Caleb had booked for us was nice. I remember the fountains and frescos in the lobby and the way the employees greeted you with genuine smiles, but that night my eyes were blind to everything except Caleb’s betrayal. I checked in and carried my overnight bag up the stairs, to the room.
It was still early when I had taken my shower and dressed. I pulled out the dress I had bought just for this weekend. It was airport blue, with just a little bit of black lace on the waist—his two favorite things. I pulled it over my head and went to stare at myself in the mirror. I looked beautiful. I was so ugly on the inside though, what did it matter? I couldn’t stay here in this room by myself, I’d go mad. I grabbed my purse and ran to the door, trying not to see his hand on her thigh.
I knew what I was going to do, something that would hurt him more than he hurt me. That’s the way I fought, dirty. An eye for an eye.
I wandered the busy Daytona streets, staring blankly into store windows. I found exactly what I was looking for a couple of blocks away, Swig Martini Bar. It was subdued and desperate, just like me. I entered through the broad doorway and flashed my ID to the bouncer. A mixture of smoke and a sweet perfume hit me in the face. The smell reminded me of the night I went to Caleb’s frat party on a mission to win him back. How depressing. I crowded to the bar and ordered a whiskey sour. The bartender eyed me curiously when I downed it in one shot and asked for another. I saw him pour an extra shot into the second one—bless him. I took my second drink to a little patio outside where I secured a table facing the ocean. It was a good setting. Mysterious, alone, and looking thoughtful. It was a trick that the best of women knew. Separate yourself from the herd, look beautiful, and a man would wander over.
He did. Tall, blonde, and in dress pants with a tie pulled in disarray around his neck.
“Hard day?” he asked, leaning on the banister and looking out over the water.
“Yes. You?”
“Very.” He smiled at me and I saw by the yellowness of his teeth that he was a smoker.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he nodded toward my empty glass and I shook my head yes.
“A shot of anything.”
“Okay.”
He came back with two. Good. I thought. My travels to wasted land would go all the faster.
We drank for over an hour before I invited him to the dance floor. He was a mediocre dancer but what did it matter at this point? I ignored my disgust at the way he rammed himself into the back of me and kept moving, focusing on the swirling in my head. The night became thick with hasty kisses and liquor provoked fondling and by midnight we were skipping through the streets toward my hotel.
“Hold on,” he said once we were inside and he was lying on top of me. I remember seeing him pull a condom from his wallet. He slapped it in the palm of his hand like I had seen people do with cigarette cartons and then ripped the packaging open with his teeth. I cringed, disgusted.
And then I remember feeling nothing. I just lay there and he didn’t seem to care at all. So this is how I am losing my virginity. I remember thinking. To a stranger, not to Caleb. When it was done, he fell asleep. I laid awake all night, sick to my stomach and hating myself. In the morning he left early. I never got his name. I waited anxiously for the guilt to come but all I felt was numbness. I knew that if I searched hard enough for those feelings that were lurking beneath the surface, I would find revulsion, but I wasn’t ready to hate myself. I was too busy hating Caleb. Around midday I heard a fumbling outside of the door. I knew he would come. He obtained a key to the room at the front desk and let himself in. I was sitting at the window when the door opened, I hadn’t showered and my hair was a rat’s nest around my face.
He didn’t say anything when he saw me, his eyes roamed around the room looking for signs of my pain. The mess, my clothes tossed here and there. His eyes fell on the condom wrapper that was ripped and perched on the nightstand. His hand on her thigh—my condom wrapper. These two images are burned into both of our memories forever, reaching out as a stumbling block into future relationships.
Unbeknownst to me, Caleb would never again be able to look at a condom wrapper without feeling sick. I saw realization snap into his face. His hurt came in the form of a twitch and then a gentle draining of the light from his eyes. I took it a step further, because remember, I fight dirty.
“I took Jessica Alexander to get the abortion. I told her to do it.” It took him a minute to grasp what I was saying. I looked at the cars that were driving by. I pictured myself putting my emotions in one of those cars and then watching it drive away. Feel nothing, I told myself. Feel nothing like he felt nothing when he cheated on me.
“I wanted you so badly that I connived and manipulated to get you. I stalked you for months. I knew every girl you dated. I knew every place you took each one. I planned it all out.” He still said nothing but I could feel his silent raging somewhere behind me. It was building and rolling off his body in waves.