Page 64 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
He tilts his head, as if he doesn’t agree.
“You're not married?” My hopes rise like bread dough.
“We’re separated.”
I am deflated again. “Then you’re still married.”
“The marriage was over years ago.”
He’s talking in riddles. I sigh loudly. “Arla doesn’t think I should believe you.”
“Arla? That name rings a bell.”
“My friend, Arla. Arla Strasburger from high school.”
“Strasburger?” He tries the word out, repeating it a few times. “I remember now. She used to talk a lot.”
“That’s the one.”
“She hasn't changed that much,” he remarks.
“She doesn’t think I should give you a second of my time. She doesn’t trust you.”
“Then she’s a good friend,” he agrees. “She obviously has your best interests at heart.”
“When were you planning to tell me?” I pivot to the more important issue.
“I wanted to tell you, but the timing was never right. We're getting divorced. It should come through any day now. We’ve been living separately for a while.”
My heart tells me to swallow his words but my brain is more cautious. He was silent that day when his wife showed up.
“Why didn’t you say anything in front of your wife?”
He stares at me as if I've said something silly. Men lie. I know this sad fact well. A lot of the guys I’ve been with have lied to me; their lies ranging from the little white ones to the big, fat, soul destroying ones.
“Because Cassie doesn't know. She thinks I’m living away for work. When we first separated, when I moved out of the family home and moved into an apartment nearby, we told her that Daddy had to work long hours and it was better for me to live near the college rather than spend hours traveling back and forth. The traffic on the highway during peak times is atrocious.”
I take a few long, slow, and deep breaths, making time stretch out, trying to think, because I'm not sure I can trust him, even though I want to.
“I don’t want to make things harder on Cassie. Vivian is a good mother, most of the time. We’re trying to do what’s right for our daughter.”
“But telling her lies isn’t going to help.”
“We’re not telling her lies, we’re just not telling her the truth yet.”
I think back to the time when his wife turned up, and the look she gave me. “She was quite insistent about being your wife. She made sure I understood.”
“Vivian doesn’t want a divorce. I've been wanting to tell you, but the timing hasn't been right. I didn't expect you to show up that night. I didn't expect you to …” He looks away.
Poor man. He was having a quiet evening at home, drinking beer and watching TV. He hadn't expected me to show up any more than he expected me to give him the most amazing head. His wife and child turning up unexpectedly not long after was just pure bad luck.
Poor man.
“Are you complaining?” I ask, taking in all of him again.
“No ... yes ... no.” He wipes a hand over his face. I still remember his appreciative groans and the pressure of his hand on my head when I went down on him. I want more of him now. A slow, rhythmic throbbing starts to build between my legs. I wonder what it would be like to have all of him. To spend the night and wake up with him. I’ve been thinking about this again, hard not to now, but I thought about it eleven years ago. I’ve been so consumed with need and lust and desire for this man, that the rekindling of it is too much to bear. I only have to look at him and I’m reminded of what we were, forbidden and taboo, and hiding from plain sight. “I didn’t expect Vivian to turn up, but I can’t say I was too surprised when she did. She’s been suspicious for a while now.”
“Why?” My inner alarm system goes off and the blare of screaming sirens tells me to back away.
