that he’d had enough of the bitchiness and wants to score with some confused straight guy.
The bar is packed, and I feel extremely old. Not that it was hopping with all young folks, but because I feel overdressed. Apparently, showing your ass cheeks is a prerequisite these days.
I fill Eric in on all the details about what happened at home, and he’s quick to tell me that Lex will probably be here in five minutes, dragging my body to the back room to claim his property. Of course, that doesn’t happen, and so the drinking games begin. Some people we become friends with in LA join us, and I am having a blast and pushing the past few months aside until Lex sends me a text.
Lex: Choose your next move very carefully and remember the band on your finger.
Is he fucking serious? With several shots of vodka running through my veins, I find the courage to say how I really feel. To say the words eating me up inside despite the band on my finger.
Me: It doesn’t stop you.
Lex: I’m warning you Charlie. Remember who you belong to.
Me: Lol, so I’m Charlie tonight? I’ll remember that Alex. Leopards don’t change their spots.
By throwing his past back in his face, I light the match ready to play with fire. His callous use of my name Charlie brings to the surface the anger we both feel. The difference is he is fucking up here, not me.
Beside me, a guy is standing awfully close to the point he has bumped my arm several times, apologizing profusely. Each time, I smile and tell him not to worry about it. So, he looks at my chest a few times, but I brush it off as a single guy’s behavior and turn my attention back to Eric until my phone vibrates again.
Lex: You are my wife, so tell the fucktard who is trying to grope your tits to back the fuck off or I will fuck him up more than you can imagine.
My heart picks up a beat. So, he is here watching me from somewhere in the room because he just can’t help himself. I shove my phone back in my pocket, ignoring his last comment. Purposely, I turn to face the guy and start up a conversation. He’s nice, offering to buy me a drink, then asks if I want to dance.
Sure, what do I have to lose?
My husband is gone.
My marriage has ended.
The music is blaring as a local band plays Bon Jovi, settling for a rendition of ‘Always.’ Around me, the crowd sings loudly, swaying their glasses of liquor in the air without a care in the world.
Eric is the loudest, the diva excels on karaoke nights with his over-dramatic expressions and attempts at high notes. The guy beside me pulls me onto the dance floor, wrapping his arm around my waist.
We sway along, but despite the need to get Lex back for his hurtful words, everything about this feels wrong.
But Lex doesn’t care.
He no longer loves me.
I place my hand on the guy’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “I need a drink.”
Pulling away, I walk back toward the bar where Eric has stopped singing and is on his phone trying to type a text. Biting his lip, he lifts his head drawing his eyebrows as he notices me.
“We need to go, Charlie, like now.”
I laugh, it is only the beginning of the night, and I have no plans to go back to an empty house. This is very unlike Eric to want to leave early unless Lex texted him.
Of course.
“You know what? You can go. I’m perfectly fine here, plus…” I point to the guy walking back toward me, “… I’ve got a new friend to hang out with. If Lex is that worried, he would have dragged me home by now. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get another drink.”
I call for the bartender, and when he comes over, I order a tray of shots for the folks around me.
One.
Two.
Three.
Throwing them back, I begin to feel better about my newfound freedom with the desperate need to dance. The room begins to spin, the music fades away. My body erupts into laughter until my feet give away, and I fall into a pair of arms.
I mumble words, something about being ‘married’ and ‘pussy’ until the cold air graces my face, and all I can see is black.