Thankfully mom got them distracted with something else and I was able to make my escape to the mother in law kitchen on the other side of the house. This apartment suite was hardly ever use but mom liked to keep all the amenities going just in case.
I got to work getting the fresh turkey cleaned and seasoned before working on the side dishes. Every year mom has our Thanksgiving dinner catered so I’ve never really had a chance to delight everyone with my culinary skills.
Our personal chef cooks everything else so I’m thwarted there as well. I felt warm and giddy as I imagined him eating a meal prepared by my hands. It might be the only thing I’m ever allowed to do anything for him, the only thing he’d accept.
Why did I do this? Why did I make this a whole big meal for a man who didn’t ask and who’s more likely to slam the door in my face than offer a thank you? Because you’re a glutton for punishment Jenny, let’s face it.
I packed up the complete four course meal complete with dessert and starter into the mom’s best baking dishes and roaster in the back of my car after laying a towel down on the seat and drove as slowly as I could around the corner to his house.
He opened the door as soon as I got there and from the way his expression changed I was sure I’m not the one he was expecting or even wanted to see. I tried not to let the hurt get to me but it was getting harder and harder to keep my practiced reserve in check.
DERRICK
It’s Thanksgiving, and though my girls don’t understand it, I feel as their dad I’d failed them. I’ve run the gamut these last two days between anger, guilt and frustration. I’m angry now that I’d come to accept that Lauren may have had existing issues that I didn’t know about, and I feel guilty for never realizing.
It wouldn’t have made a difference either way. Maybe I would’ve done some things different, like realizing that her jealousy wasn’t the usual run of the mill garden variety and needed to be handled with care.
And now I have the added guilt and frustration because my mind keeps going to Jenny. I don’t know what the hell is going on. Maybe it’s some weird kind of PTSD left over from a shared traumatic experience, but since the day before I’ve had this strange awareness of her.
I find myself feeling, sensing her when she’s not around. And when I went to bed last night I could swear I smelt her on the sheets. The sheets I had yet to change. I’d just rubbed the blood out of the spot. The service will be here first thing tomorrow. They don’t take the day after the holiday off since this is one of their biggest days.
Anyway I smelt her and just before I closed my eyes I felt her. Again when I woke up this morning she was the first thing I thought about. I think I dreamt about her though I can’t remember what. But I know it was hot because I woke up hard and reaching for her.
There are no words to describe how fucking awful I feel. I never knew I was this weak. That at the first sign of major trouble in my marriage I decide to look elsewhere. It was a humbling and disgusting thought.
But the strange thing is, I was consciously thinking about her or bringing her to mind. It’s as if she just flitted there at will, almost as if she was a part of me. I forced myself to put thoughts of her out of my head as I waited for the driver to drop off dad’s Escalade.
Since Lauren had taken the Rover and it wasn’t practical to drive the girls around in a Porsche, dad had decided to leave his SUV with me while he was away. If nothing comes of it and we never find Lauren I’m gonna have to see about getting one of my own.
I heard an engine in the drive and got up to open the door. He’d made good time getting here. I opened the door and the greeting died on my lips when I saw it was her. She turned to look at me over her shoulder as she reached into the back for something and something flashed in my head.
Me, and Jenny, upstairs in bed, and I was fucking her from behind as she looked back at me with the most sensual look I’ve ever seen on a woman. What the hell is going on? That’s like the second or third one of those I’ve had. And part of the reason for my guilty frustration.