Chapter 6
Bethany
“Oh my fuckin’ gawd, I look ridiculous!” I squeal into the mirror as I see myself for the first time with my hair tangled and clipped up in various places. It has been about an hour since Leon came into the guesthouse offering to dye my hair purple, two boxes of dye in hand. I didn’t realize how long my hair was until he began to work the color through it, using almost all of the color in both boxes and having to separate chunk by chunk to make sure he got all of it.
I didn’t know he would take me seriously when I told him I thought my next move should be something cliché like dying my hair, but I find the process both relaxing and liberating. It takes my mind off of things that have been going on like the bruises on my face and the fact that I am going to have to fight for a divorce with a man who doesn’t want it. Though, I still don’t understand that. What’s the point when he doesn’t want me anyway?
I share the thought from my head and continue to laugh as my hair flops down when Leon pulls out the strands. The color has been setting in, and I can see a little of the results, though I know it will be more obvious in the coming days. It’s always been like that with the brown dye, so I am sure it will be just the same with this.
Luckily, the doctor showed up early this morning and reset my nose, taping over it to hold it in place. It hurt like hell, but I am happy it won’t be permanently fucked up like my heart is right now.
We go over to the tub amidst our giggles, and I take off my top so that I am down to just an undershirt, not wanting to soak my new shirt with color and water. I hang my head into the shower. Leon pulls down the sprayer and turns on the water, which is instantly hot. I had always wanted one of the tankless hot water heaters so I didn’t have to wait, but I had no say in anything in our house once we moved. Strange that I never noticed before.
I watch as purplish pink water runs from my hair down the drain, some of it staining the white tub, and I know I will have to bleach it back later. Right now, I just want to enjoy the time I have with Leon. I am shocked he wants to spend the day with me, but he seems like a cool guy and really easy to talk to. Why couldn’t I have found a gay bestie like this is Philly to hang with? He would have told it to me straight about Noah a long damn time ago.
When we get back into the living area, a towel wrapped around my head to keep it from dripping on the couch and staining more than I already have with the coffee, I see that another episode of Maury is on. I guess it’s some of kind if rerun marathon special, and I smile. Leon sits down next to me and takes the control out of my hand. At first, I think he is going to change the channel because of his comment before, but then he turns it up. “If we’re going to watch this fucked up shit, I want to make sure I really hear it,” he says, and I let out a half laugh half groan as my nose attempts to scrunch up with my face.
“Want some Irish coffee?” I ask him, pointing to the lukewarm pot sitting on the coffee table along with a bottle of Bailey’s I had used to make my drink that morning.
“Sure, I’ll get some for the both of us,” he says, giving me another one of his winks like he gave me the night before. He gets up and gets himself a fresh mug and pours us both some before sitting back down with me.
“Thank you for doing this, I really needed it.” I pat my towel covered head.
“I figured it was the least I could do. I can’t imagine going through what you did, but I imagine you could use a little bit of color in your life,” he says.
We both turn to Maury and see that it is one of his paternity test episodes - some of the best ones that I love. I know it’s not supposed to be healthy to watch this stuff, but it is a guilty pleasure of mine.
When it goes on break, he turns to me and asks me, “So, you’re from here, Miami, right? How did you end up away from here? I’ve heard Natasha and Anton mention you were in Philly.”
I frown for a moment, but I realize it’s not a big deal. I don’t have many friends anymore. Natasha is it, and she has a whole life to deal with; a husband and kids, so it’s nice having someone to talk to openly about what’s been running through my head. Maybe he can help me analyze this all and stop making it a jumbled mess in my head. What were GBFs for anyway?
“My husband - fiancé at the time, was into politics and things. He wanted to eventually end up as DA, and Pennsylvania has a better pollical climate for him and his values than Miami,” I explain. “I kind of just went with him without question. I was so in love, and he was my future.” I shrug. It made so much sense at the time, but I can’t say that logically anymore now that I busted my bubble that was surrounding me and hiding the truth; that he isolated me and tried to turn me into something that I wasn’t.
“It makes sense. It’s something most people would do for love,” Leon comments. I like that he is still trying to reassure me that it’s not all my fault. I don’t know how he can read me so well. As strong as I am, and as much as I absolutely blame this on Noah’s manipulative personality, deep down I do worry that I brought this upon myself for being stupid or always choosing the wrong men. I fall too fast and ignore all the red flags. It’s not something that hasn’t happened to me before, but it’s never been on this scale. Never led to me marrying someone and running away to another state.
“Thanks, but it was the least of things I did for love,” I admit to him. I don’t know why I am spilling it all, but it just feels nice to get it off my chest. And maybe it’s easier because he is not someone who knew me before, so he is not judging me on that.
“What do you mean?” he asks me, and I notice we have gotten a little closer, and the blanket is draped over both our legs. Anton and Natasha keep it a freezing 65 degrees in here.
“I haven’t felt like myself in a long time because this marriage pretty much took little pieces of me until I was someone else. I happily did it all for him, believing the things I changed were minor and would make me better. And I did them out of love. I thought it would make me look good next to him and further his career and strengthen our marriage, but it was never me. I didn’t even know how suffocated and isolated I was until the night I left. It was our anniversary too. I caught him cheating with his secretary, who happened to be one of my only true friends. Well, I thought she was that. She was the only one I was allowed to get close to.”
I sigh and relax, watching Maury reveal that some douche bag on the show who insisted his beautiful girlfriend was a cheating ho and the baby wasn’t his find out that indeed, it was his.
“Then, what were you like before? What’s so different?”
I don’t know why I am taken aback by the question. It’s pretty logical considering what I just revealed, but I don’t think I was ready for it. It means talking about a person I lost, and that’s much harder when that person is yourself.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just was making conversation,” Leon says, sensing my hesitation.
“No, that’s okay. The sooner I can talk about it, the sooner I get to heal and move on, right? So, I was a lot of fun, really ambitious, and certainly not some trophy wife type. I was really a hopeless romantic, a little desperate maybe, but I was definitely a Miami bitch. I actually had blonde hair and a flat chest, believe it or not.” I bite my lip, hating to admit that unless I am ready for another surgery, I will be carrying that one around for a while. At least the other modifications will wear off if I so will them to. I haven’t decided yet.
“Ah, boob job. I figured but didn’t want to say anything. I am guessing then that it wasn’t your idea exactly?”
I shake my head. “No. He brought it up first and offered to pay. He made it sound so smart and like I would feel so great about myself, not at all like he had a problem with how I looked. I think it was the influence of the community we were in. Men in politics and rich men like to brag about whose wife is the best looking, and their standards aren’t exactly PG. I have lip fillers and other stuff too. All his idea.” I frown, realizing for the first time just how bad it is. It’s like not a single piece of my body or mind has been mine at all the past two years.
“Bethany, if I ever cross the path of this dick, I will make sure he suffers greatly before he dies.”
I raise my eyebrow at Leon for a moment before I burst into laughter. “Good one, thanks. I know what you mean.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, just what you said. I know there’s no way my GBF is going to actually hurt anyone, but that made me feel better thank you,” I tell him, clapping my hand down on his thigh as the towel falls out of my hair from my sudden movement. I let it sit feeling like my hair must be dry enough for now.
“GBF?” he asks, repeating it as if it’s foreign. Which, I guess I can see. I think he is actually from another country; Italy or Romania or something. I’ll have to remember to ask him.
“Oh, yeah, that means gay boyfriend. It’s what us girls call our besties who are gay men,” I tell him.
He lets out a little chuckle and then shakes his head. “I am very much not gay, Bethany. In fact, if this shit with your ex wasn’t going on, I would have hit on you already.”
My cheeks get hot as I realize how open and close I have been with him all day, and he isn’t even gay. I don’t know whether to run or kiss him for saying that.