She means everything
This, us, it means everything.
Before Indy, I was the grumpy bastard who didn’t even entertain the idea of a relationship or love.
After her, I am a man who can’t live without it.
Indy
Time stands still, and the rest of the world is mere background noise.
Paint streaks the skin just below my thumb on the back of my hand, and I stare at it, mesmerized.
The subway car jockeys back and forth, light flashing through the window like a strobe, and my mind takes the opportunity to mirror it.
Intense and all-consuming, scenes and stills of Ansel and me together, paint smearing between our bodies, take my mind hostage and clog my throat.
His hands on me, my hands on him. I can still taste his tongue on the inside of my lips, and a memory of him running it along the vein in my neck draws my hand there.
The woman across from me notices the paint on it and smiles.
“Fun day?”
Sweet merciful Jesus, she has no idea.
The corner of my mouth hitches involuntarily, and she goes back to her sudoku.
And then I remember what made me leave.
My stomach turns, and the train screeches to a halt just in time.
When the doors open, I’m off in a dash, shoving people out of my way carelessly and fighting the stairs until I can get to fresh air.
Big, heaping gulps burn my lungs and steady my stomach, but I know it won’t be long before I take another turn.
If I can just make it to my apartment, maybe I’ll be able to think rationally enough to figure out something concrete. An actual fact I can latch on to to regain control.
With giant steps I imagine are better suited to someone twice my size, I see about doing just that.
People and buildings around me blur together as I traverse the few blocks between the subway and my apartment and climb the stairs inside until I’m standing in front of my place.
Salvation lies on the other side of this door, I’m sure of it, and answers are inside the memory box in my closet.
They have to be.
“Surprise!” Matt greets as I swing the door open, armed with a bouquet and a smile. Returned from his trip much earlier than expected—waiting for me to come home to my apartment from my lover’s studio.
Air freezes in my lungs, refusing to move out so the new can come in. Before I know it, he’s wrapping me up in his arms and pulling me inside. “God, I missed you,” he whispers and leans forward to press his lips to mine.
Rigid and unyielding, my lips take their cue from my lungs and cease to function as I know them.
He doesn’t notice.
Instantly, guilt and shame curl inside my gut.
His kiss feels all wrong, foreign and, ironically, like betrayal. The cynical part of me wants to laugh. I’m actually worried about what the man I’m cheating with will think if he finds out I’m kissing my boyfriend.
My hands shake and my stomach hollows with the realization of how low I’ve sunk and what it means I have to do now.
I’m shocked by how easily I lost myself in the actions of a morally devoid woman I swore I would never become.
Just before Matt attempts to take it deeper, to slip his tongue inside my mouth, I pull away and disentangle myself from his arms.
I’m the worst. And I’m only going to get more awful as the minutes tick by.
“You’re home early,” I say, and even though I don’t mean it to, it comes out like an accusation.
His eyebrows pull together, but he doesn’t make too much of it.
I guess he doesn’t automatically suspect that the reason for my upset is his interruption of my affair.
God, Indy. Affair.
How did I get so off course?
He nods, the pinch in his eyebrows smoothing out as he tries to explain himself. Like he’s the one who’s done something wrong. “I cut the meeting short. For once, I paid attention to how you sounded instead of what you said.”
Tugging at the scarf around my neck, I look to the carpet and question, “What do you mean? How did I sound?”
“Like you weren’t okay with the fact that I’m always gone.”
That’s just the thing, though. I was okay with it. Never disappointed or lonely, I didn’t mind Matt’s trips. I didn’t mind at all.
I should have realized what that meant earlier.
When Matt steps forward to help me take my coat off, I take two steps away from him and wrap myself in it. It feels like a barrier against everything I know is coming.
“Indy?” His brow furrows again, and this time, it sticks. “Are you okay?”
“Yes… No… I don’t know…” I pause and shake my head. “I just…I have something to tell you, and it’s not easy.”
I hate myself for the awful way I’ve strung him along.