Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,38

the possibility of weight gain with some of the other forms of birth control... He’s always...I know I’m being paranoid, but what if he made the condom defective on purpose?”

“Do you think he would?”

“I don’t know what I think anymore.”

“Honey, have you brought this up at the marriage counselor’s? You said you’re seeing one, right?”

“I haven’t brought it up to anyone...until now.”

Jenn’s head tilts in her understanding way.

I can’t believe I’m being this honest. It’s cathartic and liberating...and I know what needs to happen. If I can’t be who my husband wants—and in my heart, he isn’t being who I want...who I need—then the answer is clear. I just need to face it. But why does it always fall to me? For once I wish he’d take control.

I take a deep breath and sit straighter. “Thank you for meeting with me. I really needed it.”

“And?”

“And I need to get to the station.”

“Erika?”

“I know what I need to do. I just wish sometimes that it’s not always up to me to take the lead. But it’s time to face the facts and move on. I’m not happy. I don’t make him happy. We need to come to terms with the reality.”

“Maybe if you told him.”

“Why, Jenn?” My eyes fill with tears. “Why do I need to tell him? Shouldn’t he know?”

“I’m not sure that’s fair.”

I stand and reach for my large purse on the back of the chair. The restaurant is virtually empty, yet I can’t allow Erika Ellis to appear anything less than perfect. I straighten my shoulders and plaster my smile in place. “Life isn’t fair.”

Jenn stands and gives me a hug. “Call me. You know I’m here for you.”

I nod before walking away.

Erika

“That’s a wrap,” Lonnie, my producer, says as his hand drops, and the red lights fade from the multitude of cameras.

“Ms. Ellis, Ms. Ellis,” Lonnie’s assistant, Jackie, calls as she rushes past the cameras in my direction.

I can’t help but notice how the cameraman on camera three scowls at her as she calls my name.

“Yes, Jackie,” I answer as stagehands unclip my microphone, pull wires, and remove a small box from my waist. Sometimes it feels as if I’m bound by a million tethers as I sit appearing carefree, discussing the day’s events. If only they weren’t delicate wires, but unbreakable bindings.

Stop it, Erika!

These thoughts need to end.

Everything I’d said to Jenn is true. I’ve worked my ass off for this career, literally and figuratively. It needs to be my main focus. I’m Erika Ellis—news at five-thirty and six on channel fifty-three. That’s me, Milwaukee’s sweetheart. I look the cameras in the lens and smile as I either recount the gory details of a school-bus crash or discuss the Future Farmers of America annual fund drive. I can laugh and joke with my male co-anchors because that is what the audience wants to believe—that we’re one big happy family here at channel fifty-three.

Even though I have a degree in broadcasting, I sit behind the glass desk with my legs poised in heels too high to walk in because the shoes make my calves appear sexier. That’s another thing that the people who crunch the numbers say. Our ratings drop every time my heel length goes below four inches. Little do they know that when I’m standing behind a counter, such as the ones in our faux kitchen set, I’m barefooted on a box. No one wants to see Milwaukee’s sweetheart fall face first into this week’s special recipe. Coming to you from Milwaukee with béarnaise sauce dripping off my nose.

There’s more to this job than looking good. It requires constant work. I must know the material, stay current, pronounce every name—even foreign dignitaries’—correctly while smiling in a carefree manner, as if one mistake couldn’t get me sent back out to the streets for on-the-scene reporting.

I’m glad there’s no pressure.

Keeping the balancing act going with each ball precisely in the air is an exhausting art. I can’t help but think about my conversation with Jenn. I’m not ready to face any of it. Though my husband and I aren’t lighting up the sheets, there is something comfortable and safe about our marriage. In my earlier analogy, the worn sweatshirt is still comfortable. I need to concentrate on that.

Thankfully, it’s Friday and I’m not due back on this set and in front of the cameras until Monday. That doesn’t mean I can totally walk away. I have preparation for next week and the never-ending workouts. But for a