The Other Other Woman (27 page)

Brooke’s flight was about 20 minutes earlier than mine so she was able to meet me just outside my gate. Seeing her again was like waking up on Christmas morning; we were both so excited to be on our own in a new city. We secured our rental car, put on some very loud music, and hauled ass from the airport to the condo.

She realized, just as we were pulling up, that the keys and parking instructions were in the trunk. We pulled over to the side in a no parking zone so she could grab them. The Mosaic was directly in front of us. I decided to mess with Matt, since he had been so thorough with his parking instructions. I took a lovely picture of the building from where we were and texted it to him.

Look familiar?

Yes, but are you parked there?

We are now.

Why are you not parked in the garage???

Oh, we didn’t know you had a spot…?

I think I just heard his head explode all the way from Atlanta.

ARE YOU JOKING?!?

My phone immediately started ringing off the hook, but I just let it ring. Brooke and I laughed our asses off as I texted back:

Maybe a little.

We got into the garage just fine and grabbed our bags to head into the condo. When we came in the front door, we both noticed how stark white it was. It was a very cool place, very modern, plenty of room, but just very white and very masculine. Everything in the common areas was metal or trimmed in metal. If his wife ever did come down, she definitely didn’t decorate. There were some black and white framed pictures on the hallway wall, but otherwise, the walls were bare. In fact, I kept making scratches up against the white paint when I opened up my suitcase against it and then freaked out thinking I was permanently marking them. Luckily, they washed off. We each picked a bedroom. I chose his, of course, with the purple bedding. The bed, a nightstand, and a big TV were the only furnishings in the room, but the bed was super comfortable just as he had promised. I just expected his place to look more “lived in” as often as he came down and as much as he talked up his decorating prowess. I had no idea he was such a minimalist.

The kitchen contained cherry cabinets with chrome handles and all stainless steel appliances with granite countertops. We were going to try our best to buy groceries and cook most of our meals in the condo to avoid gaining 400 pounds. He had assured us the kitchen was fully stocked.

Floor to ceiling blinds covered giant windows and sliding glass doors to a balcony surrounding the entire place. The view of the ocean really was spectacular. It made all other aspects pale in comparison. We literally felt like we were on top of the water. We stood out there for at least 15 minutes before coming back in to take inventory of what we would need from the grocery store.

We opened the fridge. Immediately my stomach lurched and I could feel the bile rising in my throat. There was a container of rotting food left in there with “Sofia x 2” written across it. I had already discussed my paranoia about her with Brooke in the previous weeks and her eyes got just as big as mine when we saw it. “Is he kidding me with this?!” I said, shaking my head.

“He is NOT so stupid that he wouldn’t have noticed that before he left the place last time!” she said, trying to reassure me. “There’s got to be another explanation, boo.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Maybe they went out to get lunch while they were looking at places and she gave him her leftovers to take? He likes to eat.”

“I don’t know. That’s pretty far-fetched. I know he’s trying to find a renter, so it’s possible she brought her lunch here to show the place and left it here accidentally. But who does that?”

“Didn’t you tell me he wanted us to possibly meet with her to see a condo?”

“Yeah.”

“Then there is no way he’s going to do that if he’s fucking her. That would be nuts, he just wouldn’t take that risk.”

“I guess,” I responded. “I think I’ll ask him.”

I quickly shot off a text.

Hey babe, we’re getting ready to head out to the grocery store, do you happen to have a chef’s knife here and also, there is some rotting food in the fridge with Sofia’s name written on it, shall we toss it
?

He answered quickly:
Sorry, I’m not sure that I do have a knife.

And that was it. That really didn’t do much to soothe my nerves. But everything was always so circumstantial with him. I never had any proof of actual wrong-doing, but since I had never been in a relationship like this, I felt like I always had to be mindful of the possibility. “If he cheated with you, he will cheat on you” was always in the back of my mind. Even though, I tried to push those thoughts as far back there as I possibly could. I couldn’t let my worrying about his intentions ruin our vacation; it wouldn’t be fair to Brooke. As usual, I swept my feelings under the rug, and off we went to check out the gym, the pool, and eventually the grocery store.

The pool had a gated fence in order to get out to the boardwalk, and we were just going to take a quick look at the ocean, but I stood at that gate for at least a minute and could not figure out how to get it open.

“We can’t use the ocean, the gate doesn’t open,” I pointed out.

“What? Step aside, sistah, you just need to get a little hip action going, and you ain’t got any! She sashayed right on up there and with one swift swing of her curvaceous hips, she hit it and it flew open.

“Ahh, nice work.”

We realized only after we got out that there was actually a latch on the opposite side, and she probably just broke the gate with one good heave.

It was evening by the time we got our groceries, and we were absolutely starving. Rather than having to go back and cook something, we ended up grabbing a quick burger at one of the places on Matt’s recommended list. It was okay but nothing to write home about. We were exhausted from a day of traveling and trying to figure out where everything was, and since Brooke would have to “work” the next day, we called it an early night. It felt so strange to be in his home, using his shower, and sleeping in his bed, yet feeling so far away from him.

The next morning, Brooke made me go to the gym and work out against my will. We went out on the beach and hit the pool, just for a short time before coming in for a breakfast. She was going to have to meet with those clients for lunch, so we needed to pack as much relaxation into the morning as possible. Matt sent me a
Good morning
text around 9 a.m., which I ignored until about 10:00, responding instead with an obligatory photo of my feet in the ocean so he could compliment my toes. After that, I tried not to contact him for the rest of the day. I was still pissed about the rotting realtor food. I doubt he even noticed, although he did send me a text to let me know he was going for a bike ride that afternoon, which was something he never did anymore. I just said
Okay, have fun.

Brooke had a successful meeting with her clients at a restaurant in nearby Coral Gables while I went shopping to pass the time. Afterwards we headed back out on the ocean and played in the waves for several hours, eventually coming in to make a fairly healthy dinner (roasted garlic chicken with green beans and shallots.) But any healthy habits we had were quickly derailed by getting completely shitfaced for dessert; so much for watching our girlish figures.

We bought a bag of lemons to make lemon drop shots with the Grey Goose he had left for us, but after several attempts at mixing lemon juice, sugar and vodka, they still tasted absolutely rancid. Those were best left up to a skilled bartender. Instead, we filled large water bottles half way with vodka and topped them off with grape juice. That hit the spot and, as a bonus, was 100% portable for us to drink while taking a walk on the ocean.

We started walking up the boardwalk around 11 p.m. It was a beautiful night, still warm at about 80 degrees, but the humidity had dropped considerably. There was barely a soul outside anywhere, other than a few cats running across the boardwalk in front of us. I felt like we walked forever and when we finally made it to the end of the boardwalk, I suggested we walk back on the actual beach instead. I tend to walk like I have a motor up my butt anyway. I guess it’s just nervous energy, but it’s very difficult for me to just stroll. As the alcohol started to take effect, Brooke started to lumber behind me. Once I heard her yell out, “WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO!? CROSSFIT UP IN THIS BITCH!?” I realized I needed to slow down.

I was starting to feel a little dizzy myself, so I suggested we sit on the sand for a little while and take in the ocean. We took a few pictures of us lying there on the sand to share with our friends because that’s what drunk chicks do. We hung out there on the beach in the dark for several hours, talking about anything and everything, mostly about our families, childhoods, and sex, of course. I didn’t say too much about Matt back in those days, I only brought him up when I was feeling particularly upset because I didn’t want to put her in the middle of us. She still had to work with him every day. Not to mention, I am quite sure she did not want to have to picture his old naked ass. Oh, but Jules, poor Jules got every hairy detail. Sorry, Jules.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know how much longer we can continue this,” I said, digging my toes in the sand.

“What? It’s only been a few months, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve really fallen for him, and he just… I don’t know, hasn’t. Maybe he did at first, but now he’s cooled off and I feel like I was just getting warmed up.”

“He seems pretty warmed up to me whenever he’s talking to you,” she argued.

“You would think so, but he turns on a dime. If I ignore him, he’s suddenly all attentive, but when I show him that I care about him, it’s like it scares him off. It’s fucking stupid. We’re not in second grade. It shouldn’t be this difficult already. New relationships are supposed to be easy and carefree, and if us being together causes me all this drama and heartache, then why bother?”

“That’s true, if he’s not giving you what you need.”

“That’s the thing, though. He must be on some level because I cannot seem to let him go. Everything in my head tells me to. He has not given me one logical reason to put up with his bullshit at all. He’s still married. He’s lied to me. He ignores me. He won’t tell me how he feels. But I feel like I am going to die when I think about not being able to kiss him or to even talk to him anymore. I have no idea why. I am completely out of control.”

“Girl, what made you fall for him like that?”

“I don’t know. I have never been like this before. I’ve had the upper hand in every relationship I have ever had, even when I dated people nearly twice my age. I mean, we do have fantastic sex, but I never even cared this much about sex! Oh, God, and I had so many issues and hang-ups before with every other man. Not a single one with him. Every single thing he does is perfect, it’s like he’s the first one that just
gets
me there.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up in my mouth.”

“Hahaha, sorry about that.”

“Well, every time he talks about you, even in passing, his eyes light up and he gets this stupid grin across his face. It’s obvious he adores you. How do you think I figured it out, you know? It was written all over his face.”

“I believe he did at first, I really do. You know, he used to tell me I was like a drug to him and he needed his daily fix? But he got over it. Or he got a new drug. And now he just likes stringing me along because I’m good for his ego. He probably laughs and tells Graham how he’s got this desperate woman in Raleigh that can’t live without him.”

“I doubt that! He’s not like that. But I can’t believe he wouldn’t just come clean about not coming down here. That was totally ridiculous,” she said.

“He does that all the time, though, constantly sends mixed signals. Jules says he must be senile. Sometimes I wonder if she’s not on to something.”

“I think you need to stop walking on eggshells around him and worrying whether or not you are going to piss him off and just tell him what you need from him. Y’all need to communicate more.”

“That’s pretty good advice for a drunk bitch,” I said.

She announced rather suddenly that she had to pee really badly. I looked all down the deserted beach and back at her and said, “Well, knock yourself out, kiddo.”

“Should I just go in the water? I don’t want to get all wet if we have a long walk back.”

I realized then that I had no earthly idea where we were, and neither did she.

“Just go in the sand then! But where the tide comes up right there,” I said, pointing down toward the water.

“Oh! Good idea!”

She crouched down in front of me and dropped trou, facing me, so I “wouldn’t have to see her ass.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate that.”

As she was hovering over the sand, taking care of business and very audibly expressing her relief, I fell back against the ground absolutely shaking with laughter.

“What the hell is so damn funny?!”

I couldn’t speak, so I simply pointed to the giant cruise ship all lit up like a Christmas tree that was passing by behind her at that exact moment.

We started back in the general direction of the condo. The entire boardwalk was lined with buildings of condos. Much to our dismay they all looked roughly the same in the dark. I recognized a huge building a few blocks down that I had noticed in the daylight when we were on the balcony, so we must have been getting close. One of the places near it kind of resembled our pool. “Hey, isn’t this the gate you broke with your ass earlier?” I said.

“Why, yes, I believe that was it!”

We were eventually able to find our way back safely. It just took us until about three a.m.

****

Back when we were first getting to know each other better, Matt and I had several very serious conversations over shoes. I have always preferred black shoes to brown, for everyone, not just men. I was pleased to discover he felt the same way. With all of the problems in the world, this seemed like a natural topic to concentrate on. We discussed the limited choices for men’s footwear in the summer, and I asked him if he wore flip flops. He said, “Ew, no way!”