“This pretty woman walked in. I remember glancing up but not recognizing her. Our eyes met briefly, and I recall how hers turned venomous at that very moment. It was like someone flipped a switch. She made a beeline for the bar and started yelling at me, accusing me of sleeping with her husband. I was so shocked, all I could do was stand there at first because I thought she had the wrong woman. I wasn’t sleeping with a married man. I wouldn’t.”
The words start pouring from my lips faster now, as if they couldn’t be contained, even if I tried. “She threw a bunch of papers all over the place, at the patrons in the bar. I glanced down at one that landed in front of me and realized it was one of my text conversations with Rodney. I was so confused. Why did she have those?
“And then it hit me. I knew why. Her husband was Rodney, the man I’d been seeing. The one who was so easygoing and casual when he convinced me to go out with him. The one who slept in my bed. He told me he was single, a few months out of a long-term relationship, and I believed him. I believed everything he said.” The past comes out in a hushed cry.
“It’s not your fault, Shayne. That’s on him, not you. He’s the one who told you a load of bullshit, knowing full well he was married.” Ford practically growls through the phone, and while the sound is menacing, I know it’s not aimed at me.
“She called me a homewrecker, Ford,” I whisper, recalling exactly how it felt to have Rodney’s wife wield those words at me like an axe, hitting me square in the chest. “Because it was true. I was one.”
“No, you weren’t. Not like that,” he argues, but it’s useless. I know the truth.
“But I was. I ruined that woman’s life. Can’t you see? And the worst part was, because the bar was so busy, everyone saw. Everyone heard. And those who weren’t there that night saw the videos and pictures snapped from two dozen cell phones in the building. I was the homewrecker. The woman who stood there and couldn’t even come up with a single word to defend herself.”
“Because you were blindsided, not because you were guilty.”
“But I was guilty, Ford. Even if I had no clue he was married, my actions destroyed her. They destroyed her marriage. She was pregnant—”
“And that’s on him!” he bellows, interrupting me. “Not you, sweetheart. All you did wrong was trust the wrong guy. I know you feel guilty and responsible, but you were a victim, like his wife.”
I blink hard, not even realizing I’m crying.
“Do you know one of the first things I noticed about you?” he asks, breaking the silence.
Shaking my head, I sniffle and dab at my eyes with my shirt sleeve. “No.”
“I noticed your brilliant blue-green eyes. Eyes so gorgeous, they reminded me of the Pacific the first time I returned home from overseas. Home. That’s what the ocean signified, and that’s what I felt when I first saw your eyes. It hit me like a fucking sucker punch to the gut. But after I got over the initial shock of seeing the most beautiful woman in the world, I felt drawn to your strength. It was in the way you carried yourself, as if you’ve been knocked down repeatedly but kept getting back up.”
“What if I’m too tired to keep getting back up, Ford? What if I just don’t have the strength to fight these people anymore?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
“Then you let me help you. I’ll help you get back up, Shayne, and help you fight. Fuck those people. I don’t even know what happened tonight but fuck them. You’re better than all of them.”
“I feel like I’ve been fighting my whole life. First, fighting against my mom, fighting hunger and tiredness, and the whispers that trailed wherever I went. Even as a young girl, I could hear them. Now, they continue. I can’t even go to the grocery store without hearing someone’s hushed warning to anyone who’ll listen about keeping your husbands close so I don’t steal them. I just… I just wish it didn’t bother me so much, but…”
“But it does. I get it.” Ford exhales deeply. “What happened tonight?”
“That waitress from the other morning, Daphne, well, she came in with another girl we went to school with, Brenna. They started talking loudly with Connor—”
“Connor, the asshole I had to put in his place for touching you?” I can feel the venom through the phone line.
“Uh, yeah, that Connor. He’s a regular in there. They were all talking about the wife coming in, and as much as I tried to ignore it, I just… couldn’t anymore. I was sad because you were gone, and then everyone was throwing it in my face about sleeping with a married guy. I’ve been called a whore more times than I can count, but tonight, each time they said it, the word carried extra weight. To make it worse, they had pictures of the texts and started reading them aloud. I was humiliated and angry and—”