Taking a stand after an insincere apology. |
His eyes briefly meet mine, then glance off towards another table. When I follow his gaze, I notice three women in dresses just barely covering their assets. My lips twist as I remember his words. Words he had spouted only an hour ago before I had caved. He'd been so sorry. Hadn't meant to post-pone my celebratory dinner. He'd claimed a meeting had come up, but I couldn't fight the feeling he just didn't care. That he might have been with someone else. I imagined he didn't think self publishing was a big deal, but he had not come right out and said any such thing. Still, the feelings lingered. I half thought it was my own imaginings; my own self doubts projecting out. Was I being crazy? When he had shown up on my doorstep with flowers and his apology, I had invited him in. I'd got caught up in the hot make up sex. God, I was weak. But at least I had insisted that he could at least take me out for dinner. We had showered together and got ourselves looking date night spectacular. Now, as I sat here watching his eyes wander around the place, drifting back to the women in the scantily clad dresses, I knew I had been a fool. He wasn't here for me. He didn't really care. "Is there some place else you'd rather be?" I asked trying to keep my tone light. What I really wanted to do was let the comment drip with sarcasm and throw my drink at him. I dragged in a calming breath as his eyes zeroed back on me. "No," he said making it sound as if I was just a little crazy for asking. "It's just you keep looking over at those women," as I glance over again one of the woman shifts her gaze quickly away from us and I get the sense that there is more to this glance than meets the eye. "I do not," he said as if I am the nut job. "Your imagination is starting to play tricks on you." "So if I go over there and ask if she knows you...." "Carrie," he begins with an exasperated tone, "You're being overly dramatic. Save it for your little stories." "My little stories." I repeat slowly. I can feel my blood begin to boil. I touch my cold fingers to my flushed face. "My little stories." I say again." "You're reading too much into this and it's ridiculous. We're here to celebrate...You wanted to celebrate." "Celebrate what exactly?' I ask, curious if he can even remember. "Your little story..." "Which is called..." "Oh, Carrie. Stop this. You're drawing attention..." "I am merely asking a question, Darren. Can you even remember the name of my story?" "Does it really matter?" My brow creases as I pull in a sharp breath. It feels like I had been punched in the gut. Had he really just said that? A wave of fatigue washes over me as I drag in another breath. Pushing my chair back I reach down for my purse. When I stand, he hisses at me to sit down. I shake my head. So done with his insincerity. So done with his ways. "Good bye Darren." I say in a voice I barely recognize as my own. When I pass the woman's table, I say, "He's all yours." Her mouth drops open in a comical denial that has me biting my lip to keep from laughing or crying. I keep walking. I'd rather be alone than suffer from any more of his insincere bullshit. My only saving grace is that I did not move in with him. My life is my own now. Word Count = 623. Notes ▼ |