Not so much a descent. More like a plunge.
I don’t tell many people this, but since we know each other so well I feel comfortable sharing this, when no one’s watching I sing. Usually I sing top 40 stuff, but occasionally I make up songs about what I’m doing at that moment – like doing the laundry or chewing gum. Mostly I sing about normal, everyday things. You know, stuff everyone can relate to.
Right now I’m singing a cute little number about Will’s penis, broken glass and spaghetti. It’s quite catchy.
And he tells me I have issues. Yeah right. The only thing we have in common is that we’re both cocksuckers. Ha ha!
I so can’t believe he treated me that way. There I was trying to be a nice person and he has the balls to tell me to leave. Fuck that shit, no one tells me what to do. Whatever, talking to that fat cunt Jen for two seconds made me want to get the heck out of there. Seriously, I was thinking about leaving anyway.
You wanna know something funny? I guarantee that smug piece of shit thought he was all superior and shit when he made me look like an ass in front of his stupid little family. Well let’s see how he feels when he gets a call from my dad’s attorney.
Let’s see how you like being charged with assault, fuckwad.
I called my attorney and he said that without evidence or witness testimony it’ll be hard to get the authorities to press criminal charges.
So I said to him, “I’ve got pictures of the bruises.”
And you know what the fat fuck said (he sounded fat)?
“Uhhh, Liz, you do, uhh, realize that he, uhh, called the police first.”
“So?”
“So, uhh, their records contradict your version of the events as it happened.”
“Well no fucking shit, Sherlock, that’s because they only have one side of the story.”
“And then there is the issue of you, uhh, waiting a week to bring this to my attention. It doesn’t look good, Liz. It doesn’t create the impression that you were, uhh, as you say assaulted.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s not that,” he started to say.
“Well listen here you mouth-breathing-fat fuck, I was assaulted goddammit. And if you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”
Apparently that was fine with him because he told me he had to let me go and hung up. So I called my dad and told him he better fire the guy.
Oh well, vigilante justice is way more fun.
Just ask Heath.
* * *
It’s no secret I enjoy shopping. A lot. What can I say, it makes me happy. It’s almost like my life gets a little more complete with each and every purchase. Of course with as much shopping as I do you’d think my life would be pretty darn complete! But naturally that ignores the fact that one’s life is never complete.
Anywhoo, girl’s got some shopping to do.
Of all the places in the world that I’ve shopped at, Uptown is definitely my fave. I know, I know… I’m on record saying that Summit Ave was cool and everything, but that’s only if you want to look like every other rich bitch over age 30. Uptown, on the other hand, is pretty much the center of my trendy little universe. If you know a thing about fashion and you’ve got the money it’s the place to be. If you don’t…well I just feel sorry for you.
So I’m indulging in some well needed retail therapy at one of my favorite boutiques – checking out this absolutely to-die-for handbag – when I look out the window and see Heath and Denise. I can’t help but smile because she looks way fatter than normal, but then I remember that the bitch is pregnant and, voila, there goes my good mood. I’m thinking there is no way I want them to see me, but of course they do, cause that’s totally been my luck lately. The big horse face smiles at me and I smile back as big and as happily as a girl can considering the circumstances. Heath pretended not to know who she was smiling at, but right away we made eye contact so I knew that he knew he was fucked.
We both were.
All I wanted was to find a new goddamn purse, but instead I was faced with the prospect of hearing this uppity bitch gush about how fucking wonderful her stupid fucking life is.
You probably think I deserve it, don’t you?
I hope not.
I don’t want to have to hate you too 
Just kidding. We’ll always be friends. At least for a while.
Where was I? Oh yeah, Denise sees me and starts pulling Heath into the store, which, as I’ve already stated, is way not cool. So uncool that I have no choice but to interrupt my valuable shopping experience and leave the store. Forgetting that I already made the mistake of acknowledging the cunt, I’m thinking that maybe I can act like I don’t see them or something. Maybe if I walk real fast…
Yeah right. I’m screwed. May as well get it over with as quickly as possible.
We meet up right in from of the store and immediately I’m hit with an annoyingly chipper, “Hey there Liz. We were just on our way in to say hi!”
Would it be bad of me to punch her in the stomach?
“Hey there,” I say back with equal cheer. As if I’m going to let that bitch think I’m not happy. I’m waiting for Heath to say something and lean in to give me a hug, but of course he just stands there.
“What the hell,” I ask. “I sucked you off how many times and I don’t even get a hug?”
Heath always complained that Denise never went down on him, so I figure this’ll piss her off. Plus I guarantee Heath misses it. And to think the ass could of had blowjobs and babies. Hopefully his kid won’t be as retarded as he is.
“Ever the class act,” Heath shot back.
“Actually,” Denise interrupted, “Since getting pregnant we’ve had to…” She looked at Heath and smiled. “…find other ways to satisfy each other.”
“Well I’m sure with a mouth as big as yours you hardly even knew it was there.”
Denise laughed, but Heath looked like he wanted to kill me.
“Oh Liz,” she replied, “you’re such a sad, sad girl.” She took Heath’s hand. “Maybe a little true love will do you good someday. I know we…”
She started to say something else, she stopped as we both fell into the street. Heath yelled something and she screamed. Then there was a squish. Then lots of people started screaming.
I’m not sure what happened after that. Someone said I got bumped and fell into her and the reason we both ended up in the street was because she tried to break her fall by grabbing onto me. Simple physics is what they said, she weighed a lot, I weighed a little. They said it was a miracle that I didn’t get run over too.
They said the reason I don’t remember anything was because Heath went berserk at the sight of his pregnant wife’s head getting ran over by a bus so he started slamming mine into the street. They said they knew he was crazy because he didn’t say anything while he did it. He just slammed and slammed and slammed. Thankfully my head landed on top of a shopping bag. It was from Baby Gap.
They didn’t tell me that last part. I just remembered seeing it.
Anyway, what I figured out was that the reason I was so troubled by the incident wasn’t because I saw someone’s head get squished by a bus, but because I have major Salvador Dali issues. Now, thanks to the vision of Denise’s flat face I won’t be able to get that overrated hack’s paintings out of my mind.
I know, how sad is that?
The mouth-breathing lawyer called me and told me not to worry; that he was confident no charges would be pressed. Like that was something I ever worried about. Hello! I got pushed for Christ’s sake. Not my fault.
“Just don’t make any attempt to contact Heath or his family,” he said. “Or you’ll violate the restraining order that was placed on you.”
“Fuck him,” is what I had to say about that.
The lawyer said something but I wasn’t paying attention to him. I was on a roll.
“Fuck his stupid baby.”
The line went dead.
“And fuck his squished-ass wife.”
“Because if you ask me,” I continued, “fate did that faggot-fuck a favor.” And since that sounded funny and kind of rhymed, I started to laugh.
Condolences
In choosing the appropriate funerary attire, today’s fashion forward woman must remember that modesty and style are not mutually exclusive.
Dress to impress, is what I always say. Especially when it comes to impressing your man.
Don’t roll your eyes. Just because it’s a funeral doesn’t mean a girl shouldn’t strut her stuff. After all, why waste an opportunity?
For this occasion I’ve decided on a delicious backless number that is the perfect blend of “so sorry,” and “fuck me senseless.” Will’s a sucker for a sexy back.
Highlight your assets. Remember that.
If you ask me, he doesn’t stand a chance.
Now, they normally recommend that women with bigger breasts wear a bra (backless or adhesive), but since mine are so perky I’m thinking why bother. Borderline inappropriate, I know, but it’s not like I’m upstaging a bride or anything. Besides, the only one who would’ve said anything will be laying in a box.
Ugh, I so hope it’s not an open casket. Cancer death is gross.
Anyway, like I was saying, I’ll have Will squirming in his seat and eating out of my hand in no time at all – especially since I’ll be going commando.
Remember: ass-crack done right is anything but trashy.
Thomas couldn’t decide if I was a sexy bitch or an evil cunt. “Can’t a girl be both,” is what I asked him.
After I left Banana I made plans to up to Will’s parent’s house. I guess it’s his just Dad’s house now, but anyway, I figured Will needed someone to comfort him. What can I say, I’m nice that way. Though I could really do without this three hour drive. It fucking blows.
No wonder people drink and drive.
So I could tell Will is really taking this hard. Don’t ask me why. I mean it’s not like they didn’t know it was coming. Hello! She had cancer for fuck’s sake. Probably gonna die soon! Don’t get me wrong, it’s really sad and “oh so tragic,” but if you want my opinion he’s really being a vag about the whole thing. Seriously, when my folks die I can tell you I won’t be a bitch about it.
It’s no surprise though. He’s always been an emotional homo. I’m just glad he didn’t start crying. God knows I’m gonna see enough of that soon.
I don’t know what it is, but the concept of guys crying weirds me out. They look so funny when they do it. The last time I saw Will cry was when we broke up and it took every bone in my body not to start laughing at him. His face got all crunched up and his nose got all flairy, it was odd. The best part was he totally did the whole hyperventilation thing. I almost peed my pants.
You don’t have to tell me I’m mean, I’ve known that for years, but I’ll admit that lately I’ve been a grade-A cunt. See, who says I’m not capable of self-reflection? So I don’t do it on the level Will does, big effing deal. If you ask me, that’s what got him into so much trouble. There’s a reason people shouldn’t acknowledge their faults – especially those with as many as Will. Cripes, I’m shocked he didn’t try killing himself sooner.
What? You’re surprised? Listen, you think I didn’t know the guy was jacked when I first started dating him? Hmph. Well let me tell you, I had him pegged right away. I can spot needy from a mile away.
But every once and a while a girl needs a project to keep her busy. Honestly, looking back I could’ve done better. Not that I failed or anything. Oh well, I’ll get it right this time.
The poop of it is, I’m going to have to apologize. Or at least act like I’m sorry or sad or something resembling remorseful. Who knows? I guess I’ll just have to see how things play out.
A girl has to keep her options open is what I always say.
If you ask me, that’s worth remembering.
* * *
It’s worth noting that I always knew things wouldn’t work out with Heath. Seriously, I knew how that thing would end before it even started. Well, I know how it will end, ’cause I can’t really say it’s over yet. We’ve got a few loose ends to tie off. Anywho, he’s a fucktard and a lousy lay. Any woman who wants to spend their life with a guy like that is probably a bull dyke or something. Mildly retarded at the very least. But that’s just my opinion.
If you’ve ever wondered what a micro-penis looks like just ask me. I’ll show you a picture of Heath’s. Well, I won’t really show you anything cause there’s not much to see (Hah!), but I can describe it.
It won’t take long. (Ha ha ha)! Pun intended mister!
Am I on a role or what?
Not that I’ve done coke, but I bet I’d be pretty entertaining. I can tell you I’d look sexy as shit doing it. Like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. I know that was heroin, but she thought it was coke. Lots of people say I look like her. I look like lots of famous people, so they say.
Will said I always reminded him of Sophie Marceau. She’s French so I don’t blame you for not knowing who she is. She was in Braveheart – you know, that Mel Gibson movie about the English dude? – anyway, if you still don’t know who she is, trust me, she’s gorgeous. But my lips are fuller. And she’s a little hippy if you ask me.
You should know that Red Bull and cigarettes mess with your mind.
Seriously, why the hell I ever agreed to drive to Will’s is beyond me. Remind me to disagree with myself from time to time
The question is: when I see him, should I cry? Hug him and say sorry? Cry and hug him? Or whisk him away and let him fuck me? That’d be soo much easier. Think I’d offend anyone if I just dropped to my knees and blew him?
I have to admit I look pretty hot with a cock in my mouth. I know, I’ve seen the video.
Remember: bat your eyes at the camera – it gives the impression innocence and enjoyment. Seduction is the most powerful weapon a girls got.
That’s the thing with Will, by the end he was just starting to open up, just starting to understand what it was that got me off. Heath never really understood that. He liked to say he did, but I could see he didn’t get it. I mean, seriously, only a Puritanical fag would be get that freaked out by a rape fantasy. Hello, I’m a submissive, like I’m going to give you permission to do those things. Just fucking do them already. For fucks sake, like a cock that small will rip anyone’s asshole.
Anyway, Will’s eyes are starting to open, only this time I’m going to help him along. Together we’ll understand each other. Communication is the glue that holds us together, that’s what I always say.
But enough about sexual predispositions, we ladies refrain from engaging in such lurid conversation.
Back to dead people.
Can you believe the timing of this whole thing? I know I can’t. I mean, I believe in karma and all that stuff but this is just crazy. I mean it’s like the Gods or fates or whatever knew that Will needed me in his life. He can’t say we weren’t meant to be together.
No one can.
Go Getter
Fuck that guy. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. Fuck him and his fat fuck of a whore bag wife. He hates you. Whatever bitch. Keep telling yourself that and maybe someday it’ll come true. Yeah right.
Fuck him. I don’t need this shit. I so don’t need it.
His stupid ass doesn’t realize he’s giving up the best thing that ever happened to him. I’m his goddamn meal ticket for Christ’s sake. But you know what? If he wants to stay with that plain Jane cow, more power to him.
I don’t need him.
I’ve got Will.
Well, I will have Will. Will have will. That sounds funny doesn’t it? Anyway, he doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to make his worthless life worth living again. That is if he’s still alive 
J/K. I know he is. He’s still on Facebook. Some chick is in his profile picture. What’s up with that? Probably his counselor or something. Ha ha.
I should really call him.
* * *
So you’d think the asshole would answer his phone. I’ve left, I dunno, twenty messages or something and he won’t call back. Hello, you’re so being a major dick right now. I bet he thinks he’s pretty cool screening his calls, like this is some game or something. As if it takes Machiea-whoever to see this is a fucking power play. Lame.
This one time back in 8th grade, before the whole bi thing was totally cool, me and my best friend Tammy got into this huge fight because she started hanging out with this bitch she knew I hated. She did it on purpose just to piss me off. Seriously, why else would she have hung out with a complete dork like Heidi Schmidt? Anyway, she thought she was all smart thinking she could make me all jealous and shit, so I spread a rumor that I busted the two of them making out. At first people didn’t believe me. They were like, “nuh uh, no way Tammy is a lesbo.” But then I said that one time when she was staying over we got wasted, and in the middle of the night I woke up because she was trying to put her hands down my pants. After that got out, no one would give her the time of day except for the pervs just looking for an easy lay. Seriously, she would fuck any dude smart enough to tell her she was pretty or nice or worth a damn. It was pathetic.
The week before graduation she killed herself while her parents were at church.
The remaining friends she had blamed me for it, saying if I wouldn’t of spread that bullshit rumor she never would have been like this.
I said that if it wasn’t for my “bullshit” rumor they would’ve never been friends with Tammy.
So anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, Will’s a cunt (love that word). But he’ll take me back because he’ll think I want him back.
And I do. Kind of. Well maybe not that bad, but being with him is better than being single. Besides, when you date a guy like Will it’s almost like being single cause you can totally do whatever you want whenever you want. Really, he’s basically a dildo that talks. Though sometimes I wish he couldn’t
But I can deal.
* * *
I’m at the mall. Again. Banana is having a sale. Bitches like Denise maybe okay with wearing last year’s fashions, but I’ve actually got some taste and self-respect, so I need new clothes.
My friend Thomas is helping me out. He works there and if he wasn’t totally gay I’d consider dating him. As it is, at the moment we’re in the dressing room, he’s giving me his opinion. I’m horny so I’m trying to get him to give me something else.
“Put that thing away, Liz,” he whispered, crinkling his nose as he looked at my crotch. “It grosses me out.”
“Are you kidding,” I replied. “I’ve got the most beautiful vag you’ve ever seen.”
He shook his head and covered his mouth. “Ugh. You look like a twelve year old.”
“Like you don’t wax.”
“Not there,” he said.
“Yeah well, I wax there too.” I turned around and slowly bent over. “Close your eyes and use your imagination. You won’t even be able to tell the difference.”
He just giggled. “You’re such a slut.”
I gave myself a spank on the ass and stood up. “Damn right.”
He shoved a black leather skirt at me and rolled his eyes. “You so need some help.”
My phone started ringing.
“Shut up and hand me my purse.”
Thomas handed it to me and playfully flipped me off as he left the dressing room. I blew him a kiss.
“Hello?”
“Liz?”
“Hey there stranger! I was wondering when you’d return my calls. What’s up?”
Was he crying?
“She died.”
“What? Who died?”
“Mom.”
“No. Are you kidding? Tell me you’re kidding.”
Silence.
“Will? Are you still there?”
“I just thought you should know. Bye.”
“Wait!”
He didn’t say anything but I could hear him breathing.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Are you okay?”
Nothing.
“Are you coming home?”
“She always liked you Liz. Thought you’d like to know that.”
Then he hung up.
I called him back, but he didn’t answer.
“Will, it’s me.” I figured I should sound like I was crying. What’s devastation sound like? “Call me back, okay. I’m here for you.” Sniff sniff. “Love ya.”
“Sweetie.” Thomas was standing outside of the dressing room. “Is everything okay?”
I pulled on the leather skirt and swung open the door. “Whadda ya think? Does it work or does it work?”
Thomas looked at me like he didn’t know what to think. “Were you crying?”
I looked in the mirror and wiped some mascara from my cheek. Smiling I turned to him. “Just for effect.”
He wasn’t convinced. “It sounded real.”
I bowed. “You forget I used to be an actress.”
“Umm hmm. You forget your evil lies don’t work on me.”
“It was my ex-boyfriend.”
“Heath?”
I shook my head. “Will.”
“Will? Will,” he replied, “What’d that fine thing want?”
I started to pull on a charcoal cashmere sweater. “His mom died.”
Thomas rushed over and was now hugging me. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
“Meh, she had cancer, not like we didn’t know this day would come.”
He pulled back and shot me the “oh-no-you-didn’t” gay guy glare.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“And I thought I was insensitive.”
“Whatever,” I shot back mockingly. “What good are gay friends if they can’t pick out a decent outfit?”
“About as useful as straight girls with no hot guy friends.”
I rolled my eyes. “Witty. Now how about you use your magic gay powers of style and help me pick out a different sweater. This one makes my boobs look too big.”
Thomas left and I sat down. I felt bad for Will, honest. The thing is, getting wrapped up in his mom’s death just isn’t my style.
It was an opportunity.
Slipping
So I’m pretty sure Heath is going to call anytime now. How much do you want to bet he’s going to freak out? Like he won’t, he has to. Think about it- I visited his house and pretty much told his wife we’d been making love. I mean I thought she was going to lose the baby right then and there. How funny would’ve that been? Like I said, it’s a guarantee he’s going to be pissed.
I bet the phone will ring any sec.
I told myself that when he calls I’m going to stay calm. Even if he calls me names, I won’t get upset. But I don’t think that’ll happen. He loves me too much.
Almost been a day and still no call. What the eff? Jeez, you think maybe he did something to her? I should check the news.
So there’s been nothing about a murder-suicide on the news or Internet or anything. Not here anyway.
Do I call him or her? Wait, I do need to return the pictures. That’d be the friendly thing to do.
* * *
People with lawns this nice scare me. I mean seriously freak me out. Like who gives a crap about a lawn? Hello, it’s just grass, doesn’t have to be perfect. Heath obviously thinks so though. Though I’ll admit, he sure looks good pushing a lawnmower.
“Hey there?”
Neither of them heard me. Denise didn’t even see me. Her fat ass was bent over digging in the dirt. Heath saw me though. He acted like he didn’t, but I know he did. Why do you think he sucked in his belly?
“Can I help you?”
I smiled. “Is that you,” I asked, arms held out.
As soon as Denise heard my voice she looked up, barely contained anger flashing across her face. Forced confusion across his.
“Come on,” I continued, “don’t act like you don’t remember. It’s me, Liz.”
“Liz,” he replied. Then in a bit of acting not nearly convincing as my own, flashed an exaggerated smile. “Holy shit, what has it been, five years?”
By this time Denise had stood up and was glaring at me.
I stopped short. “Hello Denise.” I offered her my hand.
She spotted the manila envelope. “Done with the pictures so soon?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Didn’t take too long to scan them.”
“Pictures,” Heath said, walking over to Denise. “What pictures?”
“What do you mean what pictures.” I laughed and handed her the envelope. “I made copies of a few I thought you’d like.”
“What pictures,” he asked again, this time his voice cracked.
I pulled the envelope back. “Well embarrassing ones of course.”
Denise rolled her eyes. “Liz needed pictures for your class reunion honey. She stopped by a few days ago to pick them up.”
“Why didn’t you tell me she stopped by,” he asked, the color slowly returning to his face.
“Yeah,” I added, “why didn’t you tell him I stopped by?”
“I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to,” she replied. And then looking at me, she smiled and added, “And to be honest, until I saw you just now I completely forgot you even stopped by.”
I smiled back. Whatever bitch.
* * *
Now I’m not normally a fan of violence, but if ever someone deserved to be punched in the gut or bled to death it would be that skank. I can’t figure out if she didn’t believe me or is just that pathetic. I mean who wouldn’t tell their husband some chick just told them she did him recently? You can believe I would.
But she will as soon as she sees the extra pictures I returned. Unless of course she enjoys seeing her husband’s dick in someone else’s hmm hmm. Or his face for that matter.
* * *
I don’t know what the goddamn deal is, but I haven’t heard shit from Heath and it’s been almost a week. You know she had to have opened the damn envelope. God what I would have given to see her face when she saw them. I wonder if she knew how much he liked anal?
If she didn’t, she will.
* * *
Seriously, what the fuck? Why hasn’t he called? If Heath and I were married and some dude gave him pictures of his cock in my ass you better believe he’d call me on it. And you know what I’d do as soon as I got done dropped on my butt? I’d call the guy and tell him that if he wanted my ass so bad all he had to do was ask
Yeah right, I’d probably kill the fucker.
Jesus, would you listen to me. I sound like a crazy schitzo or something. But I’m so not crazy it isn’t even funny. I’m just a little upset.
And you can understand that, right? I mean, hello, who’s the one who got totally screwed in this deal? Ha, ha, I mean that metaphorically. Seriously, you think I would’ve left Will if I knew this would happen? Of course I wouldn’t have. I loved him. And now looks what’s happened to me.
Heath doesn’t know what it’s like to hurt this bad. What would he care anyway. I mean look at him, he’s acting like everything is hunky dorey.
By the way, did I tell you I quit the museum? I know, crazy isn’t it? I couldn’t take it anymore. All I got to say is that don’t ever work for a person named Dr. Lavelle- they’re probably a cunt.
I can’t believe I just said that. Cunt. Who even says that anymore? It sounds so mean. I like it. More people deserve to be called cunts I think.
Anyway, I’m done with that upity bitch and all her errands. Like I need a job. My dad said he’d take care of me no matter what.
But I’m drifting here. We were talking about Heath and how he has no idea what real emotional pain is. I mean he’s the guy who never got dumped. He’s the one who always got whatever he wanted.
Back in high school every girl wanted him but I wanted him more. And even though I was totally his best girl friend, we never dated. Yeah, he was my first – I was telling the truth on that- but it was a one time deal and we were drunk. He said it wasn’t. He said he’d always loved me and promised we’d be together but he was full of crap. That was the last time I ever saw his dick until a few months ago.
I should have know he was a goddamn lying piece of shit. I guess my problem was that I loved him too much. But don’t think I’m an idiot or anything. He told me he was leaving her and if there’s one thing I believe in it’s that you trust the ones you love.
Until they break your heart.
* * *
I’m calling that bitch. Right now. Fuck her if she thinks she can ignore me.
Pick up the goddamn phone, whore.
“Hello.”
“Hi Denise.”
“Oh hi Liz. I’d been meaning to call you.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yes. I wanted to tell you how much I liked the pictures you sent over.”
“Really?”
“In fact, I liked them so much I thought others would too.”
“I figured Heath would like them.”
“Not Heath. He hasn’t seen them.”
“No?” This was weird.
“Really Liz, did you think I would show him such filthy things?”
“So what do you mean?”
“You’re a bright girl,” she replied. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Who did you show them to? Your fat skanky friends?”
“There’s no need to get upset Liz.”
“I’m not upset bitch.”
“What’s your email address?”
“What the fuck do you need that for,” I asked.
“To send you the link to your pictures.”
“You didn’t.”
“Actually, I’ll send you a few links.”
“You wouldn’t do that to him.”
“Of course not,” she replied, “I blurred out his face.”
“You fucking cunt.”
“You look good though,” she said, ignoring my comment. “A little heavy, but I think it was the lighting.”
“You’re lying…”
“He’ll never leave us Liz,” she interrupted. “He loves us.”
“He loves me,” I shot back.
“No, he just loved fucking you.”
“He promised he’d leave.”
“And he promised me he wouldn’t.”
“He cheated on you.”
She exhaled deeply. “And I will forgive him.”
“You can’t trust him.”
“But I can trust him Liz. You can’t, but I can.”
I started to cry. I can’t believe I’m crying.
“Liz,” she said, voice softening. “You need to move on hon.”
“He loves me,” I whispered.
“It’s over,” she whispered back.
I shook my head at the phone. “He loves me.”
“No Liz,” she said, “he hates you.”
And then she hung up.
We’ll see.
Ugh. I just can’t seem to get going. I don’t even feel like jogging, that’s how bad it is. I blame work. The place is driving me nuts. Like, it seriously blows. I swear the next time Dr. Lavelle makes me run another bull crap errand like getting her a new cellphone I’m gonna lose it. Executive assistant was the job title, not personal assistant. Like I went to college to be a personal shopper. I mean do I look like some loser delivery guy?
Whatever.
Like I need the job. If it weren’t for the clothing allowance I’d totally quit. Besides, I’ve been working too effing hard planning this party to quit now. Really, if you had any idea how hard it is to plan something this big you’d understand why I’m so stressed. But it’ll be worth it – it’s totally going to be the event of the season. Pretty much everyone who is anyone will be there.
I should know, I did the guest list.
Changing subjects. So, this totally isn’t like me, but I’ve been a major slut lately. I know, like that’s something you admit to a bunch of people you don’t know. Get over it. It’s only happens when I’m drunk. Besides, they’re more like one night stands and we’ve all had a few of those in our lifetimes. But the random sex is only to get by. Once I get Heath or Will back I’ll be through with it.
Trying to prioritize which one to go after has been tougher than I thought. Too tough really. It’s like a dead heat. I mean I want Heath because he’s successful, upbeat and totally unbelievable in bed. But on the other hand Will is great because…well I guess he’s great ’cause he loves me so much. And he’s hot. Plus we’ve known each other so long – so it’s comfortable.
Like I said, it’s a dead heat.
What kills me though is that they both think they’re happy. Get real. They’re just acting like it. You should see how Heath is when he’s around that skank wife of his. The other day I happened to be driving through his neighborhood (no, I’m not a stalker) and there they were getting into the car to go run their stupid errands. He was all lovey and smiling, helping her fat pregnant ass get into the car. And get this, she was acting just as happy. Despite the fact that the cow knows he cheated. How pathetic is that?
At first she didn’t believe me. A few days after our big fight when it became obvious that Heath wasn’t coming back, I called his wife again. The first time I called, you remember- the night he left- I just wanted to see where he was. Nothing sinister, I promise. Not like this time. He might not want to leave her, but who’s to say she won’t leave him;)
Anyway, as I drove home from work I saw her sitting on the porch. And maybe it was because I had a major crappy day, but the sight of her sitting there, smiling and rubbing her stupid belly as she read some parenting magazine really pissed me off. I mean hello, I’m the one who should be pregnant. Whatever. Obviously, accidents happen. So I see her there and I think to myself, Liz, is it really fair that she lives a lie; that she and her child live a lie? Of course not.
So I told her the truth.
“Helooo,” she said.
God, you could hear her stupid smile over the phone.
“Hi, is this Denise?”
“Speaking.”
“Hi Denise, it’s Liz.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“Liz,” I said, “I went to high school with your husband.”
“Oh,” she said. I could hear her smile waver, but only for a sec. “Is this about the class reunion?”
Class reunion? WTF, has it already been ten years?
“As a matter of fact it is,” I said, a new plan taking shape in my head. “I’m with the planning committee and we’re trying to track down photos for our slide-show. I was wondering if you might have any?”
“I’m sure we do.”
“Really,” I said. “Oh Denise you’re a lifesaver.”
“It’s nothing. What’s your address?”
“Address?”
“So I can make copies and mail them to you.”
“Duh.” I said, adding a laugh to cover my gaffe. “It’s been one of those days.”
She replied with a forced laugh that she’d obviously practiced -which, I have to say, almost sounded better than my real one.
“You know,” I continued, “I actually live in town. How ’bout I swing by and pick them up?”
“Really,” she said enthusiastically, a tad too genuine for my tastes. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all,” I replied with equal giddiness. “You stay at home and rest.”
Of course it was only after I opened my stupid mouth that I realized I almost messed up big time. But then I remembered I was dealing with the idiot who believed her husband actually travelled that much. Like anyone travels that much. Hello, you’re a moron.
You’d have thought that since we were making love and someday it was also going to be my house, Heath would have had the decency to show me their place. But he never did. He was always like, “I’d show you babe, but Denise won’t let me near the house.” Like I knew what was really going on.
What a jackass. Seriously, I can’t believe I fell for his lies. He’s leaving his wife, he tells me. At least I didn’t fall for the crap he pulled on her.
Anyway, a couple days later I swung by to pick up the pictures. It was a nice place, a little small for my tastes, but decent enough for them I guess. Actually, now that I think about it, the house was a lot like Denise. Very plain.
Walking up the steps I stepped on some stupid dog toy that almost broke the heel off my new Steve Madden’s. Thankfully for Denise it didn’t break. Otherwise she’d have owed me $173 dollars and I’m pretty sure she couldn’t afford that.
I rang the doorbell and waited for like five minutes before the heifer answered the door. When it finally opened I was greeted by a flash of massive black fur enthusiastically launching itself through the doorway and some bitch screaming “Jo Jo! No!”
But Jo Jo just ran me over.
Thankfully, I have quick reflexes, so I was able to grab the hand rail and catch myself before I fell.
“I’m sooo sorry,” she said. “Are you o.k.?”
“I’m fine,” I shot back, then I reminded myself not to be a bitch and softened my tone. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Really.” I smiled. “It’s so not a big deal.”
She motioned me to come in.
“Sorry about the mess,” she said as she led me to the living room.
I looked around, but aside from a crooked painting, I didn’t see a mess anywhere. “Are you kidding, this place makes my apartment seem like a pigsty.”
She rolled her eyes and dismissed my compliment with typical homemaker humility. “So, how’s the planning coming,” she asked.
“Oh, you know, like planning a big party.” At least, that’s how I imagined it to be. “But it’s coming along nicely.”
Laughing, she said. “I put together a few pictures that should embarrass Heath nicely.”
If she only knew about some of the photos I had.
“Perfect,” I said, trying to find it as funny as she did.
“There’s one in there from when he was 14 or so…such a dork.”
“Weren’t we all?”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “You don’t even want to know.”
“Rolled jeans,” I asked.
She nodded enthusiastically. “And crimped hair!”
“Me too,” I said, playing along. Yeah right, like I’d ever crimp my hair.
“So,” she asked after finally calming down. “Did you and Heath know each other in high school?”
“You mean he’s never mentioned me,” I replied in feigned, but mostly real shock.
She paused to think about it, but I could tell she was doing it just to make me feel better. “You know, now that I think of it, maybe he did. I tend to tune him out when he starts talking about the glory days.”
It was my turn to laugh.
“I suppose he wouldn’t mention me. I mean, it’s not like me and my boyfriend talk about the people we’ve slept with.”
Her face blanched. “Slept with?”
“Yeah,” I said perkily, “didn’t you know…we were each other’s first.”
“But that can’t be.”
I tilted my head to the side as if to ask, “it can’t?”
She shook her head. “Heath would have told me.”
“Hmm,” I replied.
Her head was really moving now- like a Stepford Wives bobble-head doll.
“We don’t keep secrets,” she said to me, but mostly for herself.
“Is that so?”
“He said the only woman he slept with before me was some girl named Lori and that she killed herself senior year.”
“Heath said that?”
Denise nodded.
“Your husband, Heath,” I asked.
She nodded again.
“The one with the cock about this big?” I held my hands apart. “And this thick?” I formed an 80% complete circle with my thumb and index finger. “With the little mole about a quarter-way down?”
Her face twitched and her smile faltered for an instant – the transition from happy homemaker to raging bitch and back barely noticeable.
“Well,” she said, composing herself, “that was a long time ago.”
I nodded sympathetically.
She stood up, obviously uncomfortable with this new information.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to get going.” She handed me a manila envelope. “Here are your pictures.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling politely.
I was halfway out the door when I stopped and turned around.
“By the way,” I said, “is it me, or do you kind of miss the mole?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I continued, “it’s still a great cock, but wasn’t that little mole in just the right place?”
Her mouth fell open and her hand instinctively went to her belly.
For a moment my heart swelled in anticipation of the pending miscarriage. But she just started crying instead.
Oh well, a lot can go wrong in nine months
