Page 5 of The Most Dearest
“Um, could you please turn around?” she asked quietly. Was this real? Or was I having a nightmare. I shook myself. Nope. Still here in this room that smelt like cum and sweat.
Harrison had pulled on his pants. Dress pants, not sweats. He didn’t own sweats. “Cordy, um ... I don’t know what to say. I'm in love with Emma and I'm so sorry you found out this way. We need to—"
“Get out,” I whispered. He walked over and reached out to touch my shoulder, prompting me to step back. “Get out!” I ordered more loudly.
Emma dressed herself quickly and had the sense to hold her head down and cross her arms across her chest. She looked young. Too young. How old was this girl? Who was she?
“Okay. Emma, we’ll go somewhere for the night.” I stepped aside and let them pass. He didn’t even take a bag with him. Maybe he had spare clothes at this skank’s house and didn’t need to take anything. The girl, who had the young, full cheeks of a teen, took her chipmunk ass out the front door at lightning speed. Harrison stood nervously in the hall, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t decide if it would make things worse. Newsflash: nothing could make this worse.
“I really am sorry, Cordy. I’ll come back and talk to you tomorrow, when you’re calmer,” he said in low tones before taking his useless, cheating carcass outside. When I’m calmer? I said four words to him. I hadn’t thrown anything. I was a saint as far as I was concerned. He was the one who had calming post-sex endorphins running through his blood, whereas I just had rage and shock. He should be grateful that I didn’t kick him in his filthy, manwhore balls.
I wanted to throw myself on the mattress and cry, but that mattress was festy. He didn’t have a condom on when he’d turn that half-flaccid dick toward me, so who knew what was on that bed. I texted Randa and Jules on our group chat.
Me: Harrison fucking chipmunk girl on my bed. Pls come. Emergency.
Jules: Just starting shift now but can call out. Don’t move Cordy. He must have a death wish. Dad just bought a new woodchipper.
Randa: It’s ok Jules. I’ll be there in two hours. Leaving Samantha’s now. Will run over the sack of shit if I see him on way home.
Me: Stay there Jules. Chat later. Thanks Randa.
Samantha lived a few hours away and Miranda had gone to spend a few days with her. I felt bad that she was leaving but was too messed up to ask her not to. I felt selfish but I needed her. And Jules was saving money for a new car, so I didn’t want her to give up a shift.
Tears were streaming down my face, and I was suddenly infused with so much energy. Like a mother who needed to lift a car off her child, my anger-fueled strength had me pulling the mattress off the bed and dragging it into the backyard. I had to eradicate this filth. I couldn’t set Harrison alight (could I?), but this ... this I could do.
I set myself up in the backyard with a lawn chair, tequila, and marshmallows. Might as well try to enjoy a sugar high and use this mattress for something other than a sacrificial burning. My tears didn’t stop. They just kept coming. I had snot dribbling down my face, mingling with the never-ending stream of tears.
The fucking mattress wouldn’t burn so I drizzled some tequila on it. This was nasty shit, cheap stuff that Miranda had brought over one night but given up on because it tasted like rocket fuel. Whatever, it would do for tonight’s purposes: burning mattresses of betrayal and getting rotten drunk. The mattress fire was weak and smoky, but it was wreaking the necessary destruction, so I sat back in my chair and let the filth burn.
What now? STI testing obviously, but after that? My happily ever after had lasted just months.
Chapter 6: Damon – Cave rescues
Die for adultery? No.
King Lear, Shakespeare
I pulled into my drive feeling exhausted. Fishing with Sam and Cameron was fun, but it was such a long day. We left our houses at stupid o’clock, arriving at the dock while it was still dark. Sam had borrowed his uncle’s boat, but none of us knew anything about fishing, se we came home empty-handed after hours of just sitting in a boat. We had fun chatting and drinking the occasional beer, but it would have been nice to catch something. Even though I had no idea how to prepare fish, Mom would have loved it if I’d been able to drop something in for her. Cordelia next door seemed to like to cook. I’m sure she would have loved some fresh fish too.
I went to my trunk to pull out my bag but noticed a cloud of black smoke coming from the next-door backyard. Shit! I ran and banged on their front door. No answer. I couldn’t just leave. Running into their backyard, I noticed the gate was open. I wandered in, almost doing a double take at what I saw. A mattress sat alight on the grass, though there was barely any flame. It was more of a smoky smolder. I guess mattresses don’t burn that well. Cordelia sat on a lawn chair, close to the mattress but far enough back to not choke on smoke. She had a bag of open marshmallows next to her and one jabbed on the end of a thin stick. She was holding it over the “fire,” but she was smoking the marshmallow rather than toasting it. Harrison was nowhere to be seen.
“Cordelia? Everything ok?” I asked. Everyone seemed to call her Cordy or Cords, but I liked her full name. It was dignified and elegant, everything I’d come to learn that she was.
She looked up at me. She wasn’t actively crying but she had mascara streaked down her cheeks, evidence of earlier tears.
“Damon,” she slurred. I looked down and saw the edge of a tequila bottle behind her chair. “Come join me. Marshmallow? You’ll have to find your own stick.” She held out the bag.
“Nah, I’m good. I’m going to put out your little campfire here though. It’s mostly smoke, and Peggy will call the fire brigade soon, if she hasn’t already.”
Peggy was the elderly neighbor next to Cordelia and Harrison’s house. She was a nice, if a bit bossy, old lady and her husband Reg was her obedient sidekick. She’d have Reg over here investigating soon.
Using the hose, I sprayed the mattress until the tiny flames died and the smoke began to lessen.
“So, what’s happening Cordelia?” I asked, crouching beside her.
She burst into tears, wiping her face with her hands. “Do you really want to know, neighbor man?” she asked between hiccups.
“Yes, I do. Where’s Harrison? Is he okay?”
