Katherine Anderson strolled down 67th Street in Manhattan. Rush hour was quickly approaching. Cars crept by as they slowly pushed through the traffic in a hurry to get to their next destination. Horns blasted with impatient drivers and the smell of exhaust filled the air. This was home. This is where she’d grown up and become the princess of the city.
Katherine worked as a food critic in New York. She frequented multiple restaurants a week and provided reviews in various magazines, newspapers, and blogs. She was becoming highly respected in her own right, and the future looked bright.
This day was just as any other. A new restaurant named Le Bleu had opened on 44th Street. Every dish on the menu had blue cheese worked into the recipe. She loved blue cheese and was excited to try the food and give her critique. Whether she loved the food or hated it, the article would be printed in Friday’s edition of the newspaper as well as this month’s edition of Food Times magazine.
On her way to the restaurant, her stomach began to ache. Sharp cramping pains shot through the sides of her abdomen. The overwhelming urge to vomit caused her mouth to salivate and skin to grow clammy. She wanted nothing more than to go home, change into her pajamas, and curl up in bed.
Katherine thought about trying to tough out the tasting so she could get her article in on time, but the increased cramping in her stomach made it impossible. Instead, she hailed a cab and promptly headed home. Once securely seated, she pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail; she needed to get the thick locks off of her face and neck. They were only adding to the beads of perspiration already forming. Then she removed the small pink cardigan from her thin five-foot-nine frame.
When the car pulled in front of her building, she wasted no time paying the driver and rushing to the elevator. She didn’t even stop to make small talk with the doorman as she did routinely. She needed to get into her apartment, and fast.
The keys jangled as she unlocked the door. When she stepped inside the foyer, music blasted through the hallways. Despite feeling like death warmed over, a smile spread across her face at the thought of Mike rocking out in the bedroom. It was like a scene out of Risky Business. Watching him sing and dance around was always comical.
Why was Mike home? He was usually out with his buddies. When she worked, he went to a bar with the guys and she’d meet him after her stint at the restaurant. They would hang out for a bit, have a few drinks, and talk about each other’s days. It was comforting and perfect. Everything was as it should be.
She typically went to the restaurants by herself. It helped her focus on the food and the ambiance without distractions. Mike would occasionally go with her, but usually, she wasn’t very good company. She would be too absorbed with the establishment.
She called out to Mike, but there was no response. With her nausea subsiding, she put her keys and purse on the coffee table and kicked off her shoes. Her feet thudded softly against the hardwood floor as she headed down the sage green hall. She was eager to see the handsome man she was marrying in three short weeks. The thought of lying in bed with Mike holding her until she fell asleep was comforting.
Mumford and Sons’s “Little Lion Man” echoed down the hallway. The sound of banjos made her smile as she remembered the time they saw the band in concert. She knocked on the bedroom door before opening it, not wanting to startle Mike. The smile plastered across her face quickly turned to a frown and a gasp. She caught her breath and took a step back. Oh my God. This can’t be happening. She closed her eyes and opened them again in an attempt to erase the image before her. Knots formed in her stomach as she stared at the scene playing out before her. How could this be? Why? There was a naked woman with long brown hair flowing down her back perched on top of Mike. The woman laughed. “You’re my stallion. I never want to stop riding you. You are so fucking amazing!” The voice was like nails on a chalkboard. The laugh was fake—like a desperate girl trying to hook up.
Katherine stood there frozen. Her knees grew weak and body grew numb. The sickness she felt only minutes before suddenly disappeared. All she could do was stare in disbelief as Mike enjoyed the ride of his life with the quirky little grin on his face that was normally reserved for her. Mike moaned, urging the woman to continue her descent down the home stretch. This was the love of Katherine’s life—the man she was supposed to marry and spend eternity with. They were going to start a family and live happily ever after. Instead, the perfect life she imagined was crashing around her.
Still stunned, her heart raced as she tried desperately to catch her breath. She had to get out of this room and away from Mike before she suffocated. She stepped back in the hallway, closed the door, and sat on the sofa. She stared lifelessly at the television, and replayed the life-altering scene she had just witnessed. It was like a bad soap opera with some tramp stealing her man. One part of her wanted to scratch Mike’s eyes out. But the rational side of her didn’t want to create a scene. There would be a time to deal with this later.
The air suddenly became trapped in her lungs as her throat tightened. Her nausea returned suddenly, saliva poured into her mouth, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She ran to the guest bathroom, where she wretched and heaved her lunch into the toilet. The remnants permeated the air, causing her stomach to continue to cramp and recoil until there was nothing left but dry heaves. Tears filled her eyes as she started to wonder what she was going to do now. How would she ever recover? She remained stoic to this point, but the dam holding back the floodgate of tears crumbled. She collapsed in a heap on the floor and sobbed until the waterway was empty and fatigue took over.
Unsure as to how long she’d been asleep on the floor, Katherine woke to the warmth of Mike’s embrace. The smell of cologne and gentleness of his touch was soothing. Maybe it had all been a bad dream. It wasn’t until she caught the whiff of the other woman’s perfume on Mike’s shirt did she remember what happened. What could’ve been just a nightmare was suddenly reality. Waves of nausea took hold again and refused to let go until she purged her already empty stomach some more.
Mike’s warm hands rubbing her back did nothing to soothe the nausea or the reality of the situation. When she was sure her body was finished revolting, she lifted her head from the toilet and pulled away from him. He wasn’t hers anymore—he was dirty and tainted. She stared at his guilt-ridden face; the slumping of his shoulders left no doubt the magnitude of the situation weighed on him. Mike knew he had been caught cheating.
“Get out!” Katherine’s voice was weak and hoarse.
Mike raised his hands pleading for her to calm down. “I…I can explain. It’s not what you think.”
He was denying what she saw with her own two eyes. Her blood began to boil. Anger took control, pushing the sadness and illness aside. She gritted her teeth and forced the words out. “I said, get out!”
“Baby, we need to talk. Here, let me help you up.”
Mike reached to lift her but she swatted his arms away. “I’m not your baby anymore. You—you get out this apartment. I NEVER want to see you again!”
He stood frozen as a wave of emotions swept across his face. Fear, panic, and sadness all showed up in a matter of seconds.
“I said, get out!” Katherine pointed to the door.
Mike put his head down and left the room. She sat on the cold tiles and waited for the front door to close. What was only a few minutes seemed like an eternity as Katherine listened to the zipper of the duffle bag being ripped open and closed, and the medicine cabinet door slammed shut as Mike packed a few of his belongings. Finally, the sound of keys jingling allowed Katherine to exhale and slowly ascend from the floor. He was gone. Katherine was alone for the first time in her entire life.