Lace and Paint (True Colors Book 1) by Ally Sky (25)

I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I still don’t know how my trembling legs got me home. I remember slamming the door behind me and the tormented look on Ben’s face as he remained, sitting on the sofa. I think I heard him mumble some shitty apology, which I didn’t stay to listen to, as I left his house.

I’m drowning. Broken. I can’t think clearly. A terrible scream is threatening to burst out of my chest. Only tremendous willpower keeps it in. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch like every other man, no more and no less. I’m so stupid. What was I thinking? That he could love me? Me? What exactly is there to love? I’m fucked up and flawed and the second he got the chance to run away, that’s exactly what he did.

I’m so naïve. He whispered flattering words and kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. So what? It was just his way of making sure I’d continue giving him what he wanted from me, until something better came along.

And she did. The girl he wanted to marry and have children with. And he’s prepared to forgive her for everything she’s done—and to brush me off without looking back. I’m so pathetic.

Learn your lesson, Talia. All men are the same. They want only one thing. From now on, look after your heart, and don’t give it to anyone—ever.

I don’t want to get out of bed. I look at my phone: it’s noon. I’ve been lying awake for hours. Emptiness—that’s all I feel. All the other feelings that rise in me are horrible and destructive. It’s Sunday and I can’t deal with Danny and John staring at me. It’s unreal. It’s as though it never really happened…

Two p.m. Anticipated knocks on my door. I didn’t really think Danny would leave me alone.

“Talia,” he calls out. “What’s up?”

What’s up? Does he really want to know? I don’t think he’ll like the answer.

“Everything’s fine,” I answer quietly. He opens the door slightly. Shit! Why didn’t I lock it?

“Are you getting up?” he wants to know.

“No.”

“What’s wrong?” he persists.

“I broke up with Tom,” I mumble the answer I had prepared beforehand in order to explain my dramatic breakdown.

“Oh, Talia.” He sounds concerned and enters the room. “What happened?”

“What always happens…” I’m trying not to cry, but the damn tears flood me again.

“Darling, come to the kitchen. I’ll make you some coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee,” I sob.

“Then come to have a cigarette. I can’t believe I’m suggesting that.” His smile is warm and rueful. I know he wants to comfort me, and I know he’s starting to worry.

“I don’t want to get up,” I answer softly, hoping he’ll leave and close the door behind him.

“You need to get up. Come to the kitchen, let’s talk.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him. If I don’t get up, he won’t leave me alone. He’ll carry on coming to my room until I come out.

I get up, put on my grey sweatpants and white T-shirt, and go into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

The coffee is waiting for me on the counter next to Danny’s sympathetic smile. I take the cup and go out to the patio to smoke.

I sit on the small loveseat, my eyes closed, thinking this is the place where Ben kissed me. It seems like it happened ages ago. I inhale my cigarette and sip the strong coffee Danny made me.

“What happened?” he asks gently.

“I told you, it’s over.”

“Why?”

“Come on, what difference does it make now? I wanted more and he didn’t.” I provide an imaginary reason about my break up with my imaginary boyfriend.

“Talia, how do you manage to always find them?” He shakes his head.

Them? Does he mean that piece of trash who calls himself his friend?

“Well, does it really matter now?” I inhale again and release a stream of angry, white smoke out into the patio.

“What are your plans for this evening?” he asks with interest.

“I don’t have any.”

“John and I will be in the living room watching television, if you need anything.”

He says it in a calm and pleasant voice, but he’s worried. I know it. He has been in this situation before and, as hard as it is being me, I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be observing from the other side, helpless against my tornado. I know deep inside me a wind is accelerating and starting to twirl.

I remain outside on the sofa the entire afternoon. I get up just for a short pee. I light one cigarette after another, staring out at the blue, July sky. I’m paralyzed. I know a deluge of feelings is going to burst out of me. First to erupt will be rage, then cynicism, and then spitefulness, which will protect me from having to take a good look at my heart in order to examine just how shattered it is. It’s easier to be angry with him, for what he did, with the universe, for allowing it to happen, and with myself, for being stupid and naïve again.

I go down to the basement and turn on the stereo. Adele is scorching my heart again, and I paint my rage and desire for revenge.

I fall asleep on the sofa in the basement, not caring what Danny will say. I don’t care what anyone will think. I don’t want to see anyone and I don’t want them comforting me or telling me it will be okay. I know myself well enough to know that okay is probably the last thing it will be.

I am floating above the large, familiar bed. In it, a naked body with a golden back and muscular arms is caressing, kissing, and moaning loudly. I try to reach out and hug him but I can’t. An unfamiliar face is looking out from under the sweaty body. It’s blurred. But it’s not my face. I shout, but no sound comes out of me. I shout again, trying to stop him from moving, from moaning, but I’m mute. No one can hear me. The loving and familiar back arches, and he comes, shouting, “Jenny…!”

“Talia!” I jerk awake in fright and open my eyes. I’m still on the sofa in the basement. “Talia! Where are you?”

“Why are you shouting?” I mumble half asleep. My heart is pounding from that damn dream.

Danny hurriedly descends the steep steps. He’s wearing a suit and looks troubled and annoyed.

“Where’ve you been?” He’s standing at the entrance to the basement, staring at me.

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? It’s already twelve, noon! I’ve been calling you for the past two hours. Why didn’t you answer?”

“My phone must be upstairs…” I mumble apologetically.

“Why didn’t you go to work?”

Why didn’t I go to work? No, no, no, I’m not going to work. I have no intention of working for him. I don’t care how angry it’ll make Danny. I’m not going to walk around the city handing out his damn company business cards. As far as I’m concerned, the damned company can fall apart. It can go bankrupt—we’ll see if Jenny will want him then.

“I’m not going to work.” I get up from the sofa and go to the smudged canvas on the easel.

“What does that mean?” Danny’s eyes look angry.

“It means I’m not going to work.”

“What does your work have to do with what happened with Tom?” He’s irritated.

It doesn’t have anything to do with him. Maybe it has something to do with Ben.

“I’m not going to work, so save your breath,” I grumble. Now leave me alone.

“You are not starting that again.” He crosses his arms across his chest.

“If it doesn’t suit you, I can pack up my things now and leave.” I’m not looking at him. Both of us know I’m not really going to leave, and he doesn’t really want me to. No matter how hard it is with me, Danny wants me close, under his supervision.

“Do me a favor. If you need to take a few days off, take them and get your head sorted out. But I’m asking you not to put yourself in places we’re familiar with.”

“As if it depends on me,” I mumble, bending down to open the box of paints.

“You’re impossible,” he replies crossly. “I’m going back to the office. We’ll discuss this tonight.” He goes up the stairs, and shuts the door behind him.

We’re not going to discuss it. I haven’t talked to him in months. He has no idea what’s going on with me. And I don’t plan on telling him now. His best friend dumped me, and I’m just trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces and start breathing again.

At seven in the evening, I get out of the shower and go into my room. Danny has forbidden me to stay in the basement and threatened to throw out all my paintings and paints. Even though it’s clear to both of us it’s just a threat, I don’t want to take the chance. And I don’t want to fight with him again.

I lie down on my bed and open my Facebook. I want to think about something else, anything else. I just want to get rid of those terrible images from my dream, which have been stuck in my head since this morning. My man shouting out a name that isn’t mine.

I have a new message and I open it automatically.

He must be kidding me…

What an arrogant piece of shit. I type a short response.

I send it and press “remove friend”.

On Tuesday morning, Danny wakes me up at eight o’clock before he leaves for the office. No matter how obstinate I am, he can be more so. After I didn’t answer his phone calls yesterday, he’s not taking any chances.

“You are going to work!” He raises his voice as I turn my back to him.

“Give it up already. It’s not going to happen.”

“Talia, I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do…” He’s beside himself.

“You don’t get to decide for me! I had a father and he died, and you won’t tell me what to do!” I pull out the card he detests. Danny hates it when I remind him. He misses him much more than I do. This is exactly the kind of day when he would be glad to have him around. But he’s not here, and Danny is left with an endless feeling of responsibility to take care of me, and he takes the job very seriously.

He stalks out of the room furiously and slams the door behind him. I lie in bed, allowing the endless tears to pour down again.

It’s noon. I can’t handle these thoughts anymore. I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking of Ben. I go into the kitchen. My legs are shaking. I haven’t eaten anything in two days, which has caused even more quarrels with Danny. I take out a bottle of red from the wine rack. Maybe it will numb the pain. Only one glass. It will most definitely take effect quickly on my empty stomach. I pour a big, round glass and go out to the patio with the phone and light up a cigarette. I have to do something about my job. In any case, I’m not going back there. I should update Sarah about the situation. She should look for someone to replace me.

I open my phone and dial. I can hear it ringing.

“Talia, how are you, dear?” She sounds particularly warm. Who told her to be nice to me?

“Fine,” I answer curtly. Let’s get it over with.

“Danny said you weren’t feeling well. Are you better?”

Ah, that’s why she’s being so nice. I’m not sick. I’m angry and hurt and enraged and no, I’m not better.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I say dryly.

“Do you want to come into the office?” She sounds like she’s smiling on the other end of the line.

Absolutely not! I’m not coming anywhere near that office. God knows whom I might bump into and what I’ll do if that happens.

“No, over the phone will be fine.”

“So, what did you want to tell me, dear?” She continues with her sweet voice. She’s not going to like what I’m about to tell her. And neither will Danny, or Ben. To hell with him. He can go fuck himself.

“I’m not coming back to work,” I blurt out, and am met with silence at the other end. Did she hear what I said?

After a few seconds she pulls herself together.

“What do you mean? I thought you liked your job. And you do it so well.” She’s baffled.

“Yes, the job was really nice, but it doesn’t suit me anymore,” I say without going into any details.

“I don’t understand…” She’s at a loss for words.

What don’t you understand? That your son of a bitch boss took my heart and crushed it?

“I can’t explain. I’m just not coming back,” I say firmly.

“So you’re quitting?” she asks clearly.

“Yes.”

“Well, I am really surprised and sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better.” She sounds confused, surprised, and I think I detect some annoyance. I didn’t give her any notice. I just dropped the bombshell.

“Thanks,” I end the call and hang up. I can’t even imagine what dinner is going to be like.

“What are you doing?” The voice at the other end is livid. That was fast. I thought it would be evening before I dealt with an irate Danny.

“Don’t start with me!”

“You don’t start with me! So you broke up with a guy! Damn it, Talia! You cannot throw your life away every time it doesn’t work out with someone!”

“You don’t understand anything,” I grumble angrily. Good thing I’d poured myself some wine. I take a sip from the large glass and light up a cigarette.

“So is this how it’s going to be from now on? You’re going to sit at home, feeling sorry for yourself?”

“I’ll do whatever I want, and if you don’t like it, I can leave!” I shout in anger.

“You’re so difficult,” he mutters angrily and hangs up. I take another sip of wine. Maybe I should have a refill. It finished too soon.

At nine p.m. I go upstairs. I’ve been on the sofa since five thirty, a moment before Danny and John came back from work. Neither of them called me up for supper. Without realizing it, I’ve finished the whole bottle of wine by myself. Well, the bottle wasn’t completely full. Maybe it was, almost. I can’t really remember. And I don’t really care.

Danny stands in the kitchen, glaring at me.

“Don’t start,” I snap through the alcoholic haze, and continue walking to my room. I fall down onto the bed. At least when I’m drunk, the choking tears don’t come.

Another message beeps on my Facebook.

What do you all want from me? I open it, clicking on the icon with a sinking sensation.

Ben. Doesn’t that piece of shit get it? I don’t want to hear from him—ever. Ugh, he can still send me messages even though I removed him as a friend. Why doesn’t he disappear already?

What makes him think I want to talk to him? He’s shit like all men, and I’ve got nothing to say to him. So he can just stop sending me aggravating messages. I close my phone angrily and let my foggy thoughts take over.

I’m sitting in silence on the loveseat on the patio, smoking another cigarette. It’s Thursday evening. I take another sip of wine, allowing it to fog up my thoughts. This is the only way I manage to stop crying. I’m still angry, now mainly with myself for being so naïve, for hoping. The pain I tried so hard to avoid has arrived. I hoped it wouldn’t surface because of all my rage, but it did. And it’s so bad. A terrible longing envelops me all the time and memories wash over me.

I don’t want to think about him. He’s with someone else. That thought twists the knife constantly imbedded in my heart, until it becomes an endless torture. I lied to myself and pretended it could happen, that he would want me as much as I wanted him. Now I’ve fallen into an abyss and don’t know how to get out. I can’t stop crying. I try to paint, but I find myself back on the small sofa, curled up in a familiar, fetal position, crying myself to sleep.

Since Tuesday evening there’s been no more shouting. Danny is hanging around me, insanely worried and helpless, seeing my eyes swollen. I try my best not to bump into him and to avoid his gaze. John is walking on eggshells, trying not to get caught in the line of fire. I’ve spent the past two days drawing an imaginary triangle from the sofa on the patio, to the basement and, from there, to my bedroom. I’ve tried to find a way to stop crying, but nothing helps. Only the alcohol deadens the never-ending pain.

I take another sip of wine as John joins me on the patio. He sits on the big sofa and lights a cigarette. I look at him miserably. He inhales and releases a stream of white smoke.

“It’s time we talked, kiddo,” he says gently and looks at me with concern.

“I don’t know what to say,” I answer softly. If I start talking, I’ll cry again, even with all the wine.

“I want to understand what happened.”

“I was an idiot, that’s what happened.” I try to suppress the insistent tears.

“Talia, you are not an idiot. Something happened. We’re all worried, and I don’t worry easily. Talk to me.” He looks troubled and is examining my reaction.

“I thought he’d want more, but he didn’t.” A damn tear falls down my cheek.

“We spoke about this a few weeks ago.” He shakes his head, disappointed. He had tried to warn me.

“I know, but he confused me.”

“How?” He’s trying to understand. How much can I tell him without revealing too much? I got away with that article in the newspaper without anyone finding out. I can’t make any mistakes now.

“I know what he said, but his actions…” I sniffle, the tears falling continuously. “I told him everything about me, and he never panicked or ran off. He listened to me for hours. He took me to the park where we sat on a blanket all afternoon, and he told me I was lovely, and smart, and pretty. What was I supposed to understand from all of that?” I weep loudly, burying my head between my knees.

“I can understand why you thought he wanted more,” he agrees. “Do you love him?”

I let out a terrible moan of pain. I want to hate him. I want to stop thinking about him all the time and not miss him.

“Yes,” I reply faintly through the tears. “I love him.”

I’m awakened on Friday by the beeping of a new message on my mobile. I finally fell asleep at four in the morning after sobbing into my pillow. I glance at the clock on my phone. It’s eleven thirty. I slept, but was haunted by bad dreams. I open the message with burning eyes and I fall apart.

The knife is pushed in deeper and twisted some more. A terrible heartache. It can’t be. He’s bringing her… here?

I walk around the house like a crazy woman. He’s coming this evening. And he’s bringing her with him. I haven’t seen him since Saturday, since he threw away everything we had between us and went back to her. Since he slept with her.

I’m not staying here, I’m not going to sit with her and see how happy they are together. It’s too much. Just the thought of the two of them kills me. But I want to see him so badly, I miss his green eyes so much.

I open another bottle of wine and sneak out to the patio. I take huge gulps and smoke cigarette after cigarette. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything, definitely not since yesterday. The wine goes straight to my head and dulls my thoughts. I lie back and close my eyes. What do I do?

The patio door opens. Danny’s troubled, almond eyes look at me. He sees the empty wine glass on the table and isn’t happy.

“I hope you left something for this evening,” he says quietly. “We’re having guests.”

My stomach churns. I know we’re having guests. That’s why I drank all the wine.

“What’s the time?” I ask in a shaky voice.

“Five thirty. Did you sleep here?”

“I must have. I’m going to shower.”

I slowly get up from the sofa. I have no more strength to move. Crying for the past few days has left me exhausted, and the fact that I’ve hardly eaten doesn’t help. I go inside and pass Danny in the kitchen.

“What are you going to eat?” I ask almost inaudibly.

“We ordered Chinese. I didn’t think you were in a state to cook,” he answers, avoiding my eyes. I’m definitely not in a state to cook. If I had to cook for Ben and that girlfriend of his, who knows what poison I’d put in their food?

I go into the shower and let the hot water flow over me.

He’s coming this evening. He’ll bring that awful woman with him, the one who has already run away from him once. And he still prefers her to me. The tears refuse to stop, and I sob under the flow of water.

Why am I doing this to myself? Why not just leave and sit in a pub the entire evening? I don’t think it’s such a good idea in my present situation. No, I’m going to stop crying and have a glass of wine. Then I’ll sit on the patio and watch Ben hugging another woman, and the tears will flow again.

I sit on my bed and slide my legs into a pair of tight jeans. My hip bones protrude more than usual. I put on a cream-colored shirt and go into the bathroom in an attempt to put on some makeup, hoping to hide my swollen eyes. I look at myself in the mirror and give myself a firm talking-to.

Now listen carefully, Talia, he’s an asshole. He’s an asshole like all men and he doesn’t need to know what you’re feeling. Remember that. He’s a shit of a person and you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you suffer. So be angry and spiteful or whatever, but enough with your misery! Now go out there and pretend you don’t give a damn about anything!

I try to muster my anger toward his actions, his nice words, which he probably never even meant, the blanket in the park, the boating on the canals, and the luxury suite.

I leave the bathroom made-up and barefoot. As I enter the kitchen, I bump into a pair of startled, green eyes staring at me. In spite of my anger, an emotional storm rages inside of me. Ben is here and he’s surprised to see me.

He’s wearing his purple shirt and black pants, and his hair has grown even longer this week. It looks shaggy now and I can detect some highlights. In spite of all my anger, he still looks amazing. So amazing, it hurts.

The woman standing next to him is tall and thin. She’s wearing a dark purple dress, which fits her perfectly. Her straight black hair falls to her shoulders. She’s looking at me with big, blue eyes and a small smile.

Snow White. The perfect and gentle Snow White, whose hand is holding onto the arm of the man who, until one week ago, was my man and who, now, is looking at me with fearful, green eyes.

You’re here, and so am I. I didn’t run off anywhere. I’ve been suffering for an entire week. You can suffer for one evening.

“Talia,” he says, his voice quiet and cold.

“Ben.” I look away from him, walk behind the island, and open a bottle of wine.

I take a large glass out of the cupboard and fill it to the rim, pouring only for myself. Then I go out to the patio to smoke, taking my glass of wine. I don’t even give him the chance to introduce us. Tonight I’m making no effort to be nice to anyone, not for Danny’s sake, not for Ben’s and certainly not for Snow White.

I light a cigarette, lean back, and stare up at the sky.

She’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Is it any wonder? I’m such a fuck up and she’s perfect, tall and gentle, with her blue eyes and long, black hair. Of course he slept with her. He didn’t wait a moment. He took her to bed and then waited until I arrived in the evening to dump me.

I make a huge effort not to cry. Not tonight, not now. Not with Snow White in the kitchen. I take another sip of wine and pray it will stop the tears.

I don’t know how much time passes before I hear the doorbell ring and assume the food has arrived. I don’t get off the sofa, Danny will invite me in when everything is ready. I light up another cigarette and blow out white smoke.

I just want to be angry, vindictive, and venomous. He brought that Jenny here. What am I supposed to do? Smile and pretend how wonderful she is, all the time knowing what she’s done, knowing what I was prepared to do for him? Am I supposed to pretend that I don’t care, that I don’t miss him all the time, that I don’t love him so much?

As I expected, Danny looks out onto the patio, smiling worriedly.

“We’re sitting down to eat,” he says gently, expecting my usual refusal.

“I’m coming,” I answer, catching a look of disbelief in his eyes. He didn’t expect me to accept.

He looks at me, speechless.

“What? I’m coming,” I grumble. Not that I plan on eating anything. I’ve decided to just sit there, deliberately, so that Ben will suffer, with each passing moment, just as I’m suffering. He made his bed, now he’ll lie in it.

I stub out my cigarette and go into the kitchen with my empty glass of wine. When I was outside I didn’t feel so drunk, but now I wobble and my legs feel like jelly.

Ben and Jenny are sitting with their backs to the patio. I walk behind them and a quick glance reveals they’re holding hands beneath the table.

What am I doing here? Why am I doing this to myself?

John is sitting opposite them, and Danny takes a plate out of the cupboard for me. He didn’t think I would have supper with them, he hadn’t even set a place for me. At least now I can choose where to sit. I walk past John, leaving an empty chair for Danny, and sit down opposite them. I steal another glance at Ben who still looks apprehensive. He’s not pleased with the whole set-up and I know he would prefer me to disappear, but this is my house now, and I’m not going anywhere.

Danny puts the plate down in front of me and everyone starts passing the food around. I take the bottle of wine and pour myself another full glass.

“Maybe you should slow down with that,” Danny suggests. “You know it’s not good for you.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m pregnant or anything,” I answer maliciously, and Ben looks at me unhappily. I’m not pregnant. Jenny was pregnant. I don’t even get my period. And Ben knows that better than anybody else around this table.

“Talia, have you met Jenny yet?” Danny turns to me.

I have no interest in meeting her. I know everything I need to know.

“Not really,” I reply indifferently.

“She came back from India not so long ago. How was it there, Jenny?” Danny gives her a broad smile. He likes her. Danny likes this Jenny.

“An eye-opening experience,” she smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. She smiles at Ben and he gives a slight smile back. My heart clenches in my chest. He’s an asshole, remember?

“So, Talia, I’ve heard you also joined the company.” She turns to me, catching me by surprise. Her blue eyes are watchful.

“Not anymore,” I answer coldly and play with my glass of wine.

“Oh, I was sure…” She’s taken aback by my cold response and looks at me with startled eyes.

“I quit. It didn’t suit me anymore.” My answer is hostile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ben squirming uncomfortably in his chair.

“Talia did an excellent job, and we’re all hoping that she’ll change her mind, before it’s too late.” I hear Ben’s voice, emphasizing the last few words. Before it’s too late. I turn to look at him. My eyes stare into endless green fields. The battle has begun.

“I don’t think so. All that wandering around the city in high heels every day, I might sprain my ankle. Who knows what lawsuit I could come up with?” I say defiantly. He looks stunned. He was my boss and, if I wanted to, I could sue him for something that has nothing to do with my high heels. And he knows it. I take another sip of my wine, looking at everyone eating. I’m the only one sitting in front an empty plate, one that Danny insisted on bringing me. No one says a thing. They’re used to seeing my empty plate. Only Jenny looks baffled.

“You aren’t eating?” She tries smiling cautiously. After my previous response, she doesn’t know what to expect. She has no idea that such a simple question can provide me with so much ammunition.

“No, I have an eating disorder.” I glare at her and Ben chokes on his food with a loud cough.

“Jesus, Talia,” Danny mumbles and rolls his eyes.

“I apologize, I had no idea,” Jenny whispers in embarrassment, and her white cheeks redden. Ben gives me a furious look.

“Apology accepted.” I shrug and take another sip. The wine is terrible and wonderful, freeing me of all my inhibitions. The meal continues in silence. I sit there, arms crossed, and let the wine do its thing. I look furtively at Jenny, trying to figure her out. She sticks her fork into her food and takes small, gentle bites. I can’t even do that simple thing. Is it a wonder he doesn’t want me? I suppress all the feelings that want to burst through. I have to do something.

“Everyone is in such a serious mood tonight,” I remark suddenly, and get up from the table and walk over to turn on the stereo. I fast-forward a few songs until Alanis Morissette’s “Uninvited” is playing.

The last time I heard this song, I burst into tears in Ben’s car after he had made me eat in front of him and embarrassed me at the restaurant. I’m sure he remembers it. I go back to the table and Ben looks at me angrily again, wondering what game I’m playing.

You played the game for two months. Now, it’s my turn.

“I love this song.” Jenny takes a sip of her wine, holding the glass with slim fingers, which, every night in bed, caress my man, doing what I should be doing.

“I don’t. It reminds me of all the asshole men I’ve known,” I shoot back without hesitation. This wine makes me speak without thinking.

“You’re in a terrible mood this evening,” Danny says with his eyes narrowing.

“You think?” I look at him spitefully.

“Jenny, please excuse Talia, she’s going through a rough period.” Danny smiles slightly at Snow White. She smiles at him with relief.

Does she feel sorry for me? I don’t want her pity!

“Yes, I recently broke up with someone.” I take another sip of wine and finish the glass. “But never mind, it’s probably for the best.” I stare at Ben and smile insincerely.

“Maybe it’ll change,” she grins. “Look at us.”

Yes, look at you, smiling and pleased with life. And you don’t care who you crush on the way.

“Really, what happened that you two got back together?” I take advantage of the opening she’s provided.

“I realized I made a mistake and begged for forgiveness.” She laughs and smiles at Ben. He forces back a smile.

“Begging is so unattractive,” I say quietly.

“What did you say?” She’s still smiling.

“I said that begging is so unattractive,” I repeat loudly. Alanis is singing in the background and it feels like my insides are being torn apart.

“A girl does what she has to do in order to get her man.” She smiles at him again. What’s with all these fucking smiles? I’m dying to wipe that smile off her face.

“That’s what I thought. You wouldn’t believe the artful schemes I devised to get my man.” I smile maliciously at Ben. His green eyes are wary and unhappy. He’s probably wondering how far I’m willing to go.

“Really?” She laughs in such an irritating way. The girl is completely blind to what’s happening here.

“Yes, I once even pleasured him behind his desk at work.” I stare at her as she goes pale and her eyes open wide in astonishment.

She wasn’t expecting that. The wonderful Snow White. I know what you did. You’re not as innocent as you look.

“Talia, that’s enough!” Ben berates me furiously. I slowly turn to look at him, fixing him with a vicious glare.

All this alcohol…he’s freaking out. He’s helpless and he can’t do a thing.

“Strange that you should say that.” I cock my head and smile slightly.

“Talia, I’m warning you.” He’s trying everything to shut me up.

Enough!

I’ve had enough of being silent. I’m sick and tired of crying and I’m sick and tired of missing him all the time. I just don’t want to hurt anymore. And I don’t plan on being silent anymore. I’ve been silent for two months, and look how far it got me.

“You are warning me?” I retort, spite and pain cutting my voice. “That’s new. Because for the past two months it’s sounded more like, ‘Talia, your body is amazing; Talia, I just want to hear you; Talia, I want to be inside you’.” My explicit outburst shocks everyone around me, and the room falls silent. Only Alanis in the background breaks through the silence with her guitar.

Ben is decidedly pale. That’s it. I’ve said it. Now choke on that!

“Talia, what the hell are you talking about?” Danny hisses nervously and looks at me furiously. I stand my ground, openly staring at Ben, feeling miserable.

“I’m talking about your friend who’s been fucking me for two months, minus one week!”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What about Tom?” Danny is totally dumbfounded.

“Please,” I point theatrically at an ashen-faced Ben, who is seated next to a stunned Snow White. “Meet Tom.”

They can’t understand how their supper has turned into this tornado.

“Ben, what the hell is she talking about?” Danny gets up, his chair nearly falling.

“Danny…” Ben tries mumbling something, while Danny looks at him in shock. How can he explain himself? They stare at each other with fiery eyes.

“What? I can’t believe you!” Danny shouts, “She’s my little sister! And you,” he turns to me, appalled, “I don’t know who you are anymore!” He shoves his chair back and strides from the kitchen.

“I think dinner is over,” Ben grunts at me, and stands up.

“You think?” I shout furiously.

“You are totally fucked up,” he whispers. Jenny gets up from her chair, looking dazed.

“I learned from the best!” I yell at him, as he takes her hand and storms out of the house.

I stomp out to the patio, light up a cigarette, and sit down on the small sofa, hugging my knees to my chest. All the pent-up pressure from this damn evening bursts out and I start sobbing uncontrollably.

John sits down on the other sofa, lights up a cigarette, leans back, and closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry about supper,” I mumble through my tears.

“No, you’re not,” he says firmly.

“You’re right. I’m not. He deserved it.”

“Who exactly are you trying to punish?” He opens his eyes and looks at me, exhausted. He isn’t angry; he just looks disappointed.

“No one.” I sob, hiding my face with my hands.

“Talia, what were you thinking?” He sighs.

“I wasn’t. It just happened. I never expected what happened afterwards.”

“Two months? With Ben? How do you think Danny feels?”

“I wanted to tell him. Ben was the one against it.”

“Is it’s more rational to sneak around and lie?” He looks at me in a way I cannot fathom.

“You’re angry.” I try to control my tears.

“I’m not angry. I’m disappointed—with both of you.” He stubs out his cigarette. “And now I need to go to the bedroom to do damage control.” He sighs loudly.

“I’m sorry,” I sob quietly.

“I know, Talia. It’s just a little too late for that.” He gives me one last look of frustration and goes inside, leaving me trembling on the patio. What have I done?