“Who?”
“Really, Haden? I don’t know how men can just screw around with strangers and not even take a moment to remember someone’s name,” I rant.
He leans on my desk and rubs the slight stubble on his chin. “You seem awfully interested in my sex life, Presley Malone. Is there something I’m missing here?”
“What?” I shoot back, almost a little too nervous. “Please, I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. No, make it a twenty-foot pole with an extension. God, you’re so insensitive. You don’t care about anyone’s feelings and have zero respect in the workplace.”
“Anything else?”
“Plus, you’re a jerk.”
He leans into me, invading my personal space. “Her name is Trina Flower. I didn’t call her back because after the one time we had sex she cried and said she loved me. There’s nothing wrong with sleeping around if it’s mutually agreed upon. Maybe you need to try it sometime.” He raises the finger that once held my engagement ring. “And since there is no longer a ring on this finger, maybe that’s just what you need.”
The fucking nerve! To blatantly come out and suggest such a thing. The vein in my forehead is surely going to burst and my hands are itching to smack that smirk off his face.
“How dare you say that? You don’t know me and I’m certainly glad you don’t! Don’t you have lunch to collect?”
He stands up straight and I relish in the thought of him leaving me alone, the whole conversation disappearing along with him. Why does everyone assume that because Jason and I broke up, we would drown ourselves in meaningless sex with strangers? I am not that person. Before Jason came along I had slept with three men, and each time I had been dating them for at least seven weeks before I jumped into the sack. It is kind of my rule, and I strongly believe it gives me sufficient time to get to know the person I will be intimate with. And anyway, the mere thought of another man touching me right now makes my skin crawl. I still have a tan line on my finger from where my engagement ring once sat.
Surely, there has to be some rule to follow for breakups. For example, one year of a relationship equals one month before dating, two years equals two months, and so if that is the correct equation, five months is officially my ‘back on the market and ready to date’ timeline. I know if I run this past Vicky, she would give me a lecture about how your hymen could grow back and you’ll be re-virginized or some bullshit like that.
An hour later the Jerk returns, throwing a brown paper bag onto my desk before walking away. I pull it towards me as I hear him laugh along with Dee at her desk. Not wanting to eavesdrop (because I don’t give a shit), I open my sand
wich and see the mayonnaise spread all over it. I stomp my feet under my desk; I am allergic to mayonnaise! Scooping my sandwich into my hand, I follow his voice until I am standing at Dee’s desk, interrupting their flirtatious encounter once again.
“I said no mayo.” I shove the sandwich in front of his chest.
He pushes it back towards me. “Sorry Princess, I’ve got the memory of a goldfish apparently. I’m sure you can handle a little mayo. The extra calories won’t harm your precious diet.”
“It’s not about being on a diet! God Haden, you’re a jerk, you know that?”
“Apparently so,” he responds, amused.
“I can’t even. . . . Just stay away from me.”
I throw the sandwich into the trash and storm off back to my desk. By 3pm, I’m starving. My stomach is making a symphony of noises that sound like a bunch of angry lions. The vending machine provides comfort, but a bag of crisps and a chocolate bar are a far cry from lunch.
I immerse myself in my work until the office starts to clear out. Knowing that I’m going home to an empty apartment makes it hard to leave. For the past week I have purposely stayed late, until that nagging voice inside my head reminds me that it was my decision. I chose to let go of a perfectly good man for reasons that still baffle me. Being alone is something I have to get used to, but after five years of having a man beside me every night, sleeping alone became tough and insomnia reared its ugly head.
Tonight, I want to curl up with a good book and visit my fictional boyfriends. Now let me tell you, my list is long. I am the equivalent to Hugh Hefner, but instead of bunnies I have this ever-growing list of male characters that have stolen my heart.
I pack my things and just as my monitor shuts down, I hear the muffled chatter from Dee’s desk. I make my way towards the lift, happy to put this awful day behind me. Entering the lift, I hit the button to take me to the ground level when a pair of hands push the door open. I look up and see Haden’s arm draped over Dee’s shoulder. As the doors close, I move as much as I can to the corner and count down the seconds until we hit my floor. Her lighthearted giggles and a possible pinch on the ass as he whispers something in her ear are highly inappropriate in this confined space.
When the lobby greets us, I have already made my way to the front of the elevator, ready to flee this nauseating display of affection which I’m sure is for my benefit . . . well, on his part anyway.
“Have a good night, Miss Malone,” he mutters under his breath.
I ignore him, walking as fast as I can and exiting the building into the cool night.
It doesn’t take me long to get home, even after I stop off to grab some Chinese take-out. As I open the door to my apartment, I quickly notice that Jason’s things are gone. Throwing my purse onto the sofa, I walk around and focus in on the empty mantelpiece where his precious baseball trophies once sat. Even the groove in our sofa seems to have disappeared. The more I walk around, the deeper my heart sinks into my chest. By the time I reach the bedroom, my tears are splattered on the floor and I’m leaning against the wall, my body slumping down to the ground.
It’s like he’s been erased. Not a single trace of him left in our apartment and never did I expect how painful it would be. I had been through relationships prior to Jason, but none so meaningful, and usually the guy cheated on me or was such a douche that breaking up was an easy and logical decision.
Lost in a pool of tears, it’s obvious that I was in denial thinking I could walk away from a relationship with a man of five years who had only ever treated me with love and respect.
But what am I supposed to do now? The temptation to grab my cell and call him is difficult to overcome. I am much stronger than this. I’ve spent enough of my lifetime watching people go through the same thing. Why can’t I just forget and move on? Sometimes I wish Jason would have hurt me. Perhaps that would make this easier. Taint his perfect image so our love could never be repaired.
At some point during the night, I peel myself off the floor, ignoring the cold Chinese box that sits on the table. I take a long hot shower to erase the day from hell and climb into bed with a bowl of ice cream. Having not eaten lunch and skipping dinner, my appetite has been non-existent all day. Ice cream is the only thing that sounds good right now.