Wait For It Read online

  Wait For It

  Michele L. Rivera

  Contents

  Copyright

  She stands…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Also by Michele L. Rivera

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2016 by Michele L. Rivera

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Designer: Kata Giraldo

  Created with Vellum

  She stands before me

  Not knowing

  That I have waited for her here, beneath a thousand setting suns

  I have slept beside that dream

  Whispering the promises I never stopped keeping

  For some time when she is ready

  Until then, I hold steady

  I carve my flesh with every point of every star,

  The beat inside my chest roars like thunder

  Whether I have her near me or if she can somehow feel me from afar

  I ache for her in secret

  Out loud

  And in everlasting truth

  I age gracefully with her memory

  I bleed the blood of her youth, blended with my own

  To never have a wish be unfulfilled or watch a rainbow streak a sky, alone

  My love,

  She bears that name of being

  My only

  The girl I have not left upon my leaving

  My softest kiss

  My for forever

  My greatest event

  My never say never

  It has been said by many that a true love story has no happy ending simply because the truest of loves never ends. It is immortal. This is the kind of love that lives forever in your heart as a feeling you will always feel, a place you can always return to.

  I believe it.

  Chapter One

  I heard her say it and I felt my heart drop into my stomach, but then I just watched her mouth as she kept talking. All I could do to keep my balance, standing there in our bedroom doorway, was to hold onto the doorframe. I grabbed the wood with my right hand. It was cold. Everything is cold on this particular October evening in New England…including my girlfriend’s eyes. I feel sick. There is a definite possibility that I’m going to throw up. I continue to watch Reese and then it occurs to me that she has stopped talking. She is staring at me expectantly. My mouth is so dry, but I manage to swallow. I’m going to respond casually. I am not going to freak out. I comb the fingers of my left hand through the longer front layers of my mahogany red hair and inhale a shaky breath. My watery eyes find Reese’s face and finally, I speak. “So, you’re breaking up with me?” I nod, matter-of-factly.

  Reese’s features scrunch up as though she’s puzzled by my query. It’s coming. I am going to freak out. I let go of the doorframe and throw my hands up. “I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me!”

  Reese sighs and shakes her head. “No. That’s not what I’m doing, Parker.” She bends both of her arms back, holding onto her own shoulders. “Stop being overly dramatic.”

  I gasp. “Dramatic! You think I’m being dramatic?” I point at her. If I can be angry, maybe I won’t cry. I don’t want her to see me cry. “You’re ending our relationship! How do you want me to be? Calm?”

  “Calm would be nice,” Reese says, nodding.

  “Seriously?” I shout.

  “Yes. Seriously. Because this is not a break-up.”

  “Then what the hell is it?”

  Reese takes a step towards me. “Honey.”

  I move back. “Don’t ‘honey’ me,” I say, but the truth is I want her to call me ‘honey.’ I want her to hold me. I want this all to be a nightmare. Maybe this is a nightmare. Maybe if I close my eyes and then open them, everything will be better. I blink deliberately. When I am finished with my blink, we are still here in this same moment. Nothing has changed. This is really happening. Damn.

  “Fine.” Reese puts her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. “I didn’t say we should break up. All I’m asking is for you to consider opening up our relationship.”

  Oh, is that all? I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Reese. “Open it up to what?”

  Reese’s shoulders rise and fall in time with her long exhale. “Other people.”

  Nausea reemerges. “Other people,” I repeat softly. “I see.” I don’t see, though. I don’t understand. I press my tongue against my top left teeth for several seconds. Finally, I blink again, but not on purpose and a tear rolls down my cheek. I am devastated and now she knows. Fuck. I respond only when I’m confident that my voice will not crack. I take another breath. “I don’t want other people, Reese. I only want you.”

  Reese smiles sympathetically and my anger returns. “And I want you, too, which is why I don’t want to break up. We just need to excite things between us,” she says to me as if I’m a child having trouble solving some complicated math equation. To be fair, I never was good at math.

  I harden my expression and wipe the wetness from my face with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. “You’re bored? Is that it?”

  “That’s not…no. Park—”

  “I’m not enough for you?” I ask.

  “Listen, Parker.” Reese tucks a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “We’ve been together for five years.”

  Yes, we have. That much math, I can do. “Thanks.” I flash her an agitated look. “I can add.”

  Reese clears her throat. “I asked you to listen.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Okay.” Reese nods. “I feel that over the past few years, things have gotten a bit…dry.”

  I cannot believe she said that. “Excuse me?” I rub the nape of my neck in the spot below where my pixie cut ends. “Dry in what way?” I internally cringe at the idiocy behind my question.

  Reese groans and stares up at the ceiling. “We lack passion…there, I said it. There’s no passion between us.”

  I wasn’t ready for that response. “What?” I tip my head to the side. “Psht. That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is,” Reese says.

  “Really? That’s how you feel?”

  “That’s how I feel.” Reese takes another breath. “This could spice things up.”

  “I don’t like spicy,” I say this and I mean it. Every time I eat something spicy, it kills my taste buds and then my entire meal is ruined. And I don’t like change. A lump grows in my throat and I swallow it down. I don’t want to lose Reese. “I love you,” I tell her. My voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t want to share you. Our life together is...it’s perfect.” It’s not, but is anything? “We have our apartment.” I wave my arms across the room for emphasis. “We have a joint bank account. We combine our laundry. Our laundry, Reese. And we have Ruby. Did you even stop to check in with Ruby about all of this?”

  Reese’s dark brown eyes widen. “I
don’t think our cat cares about our sex life.”

  “Well, she might care if there’s a third party rolling around in our bed!” I inspect the room for our fluffy, white Persian feline, but she is nowhere to be found.

  Reese rolls her eyes. “Parker.”

  I glance down at my running sneakers. There’s a hole forming in the mesh of right shoe near my big toe. Fabulous. I fix my eyes upon Reese. “I want to be monogamous.”

  “I get that and I want to try something different,” Reese says. “We’ll set boundaries. We’ll have ground rules. It could be great for us.”

  No, it won’t be. “And if I say no?”

  Reese lowers her gaze. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I want us to work and couples’ therapy didn’t help us. This could.”

  She’s wrong, but I’m too tired to argue. “Will this make you happy? If I go along with this.”

  Reese shrugs. “It’s worth a shot. Don’t you think?”

  No. I frown. “I’m not sure what to think. I just don’t want to lose you.” I mentally pat myself on the back for not crying.

  Reese half-smiles. “Then let’s do this.”

  “Okay,” I say softly. “We can try it.” On the inside, I’m screaming at myself for submitting to her wants again and I wonder if it would be better to end it here, to break up with her, but I don’t. I can never bring myself to do it.

  Chapter Two

  I shrug off my winter jacket and hang it over the back of the upholstered bar stool. I slump into the seat next to my best friend, Elle, who shakes her head at me and then takes a sip from her martini glass. I’ve known Elle since I was five years old. We met in kindergarten, where she lent me her pencil eraser one day and we’ve been inseparable since. We have seen each other through quite a bit considering we are both thirty-one now.

  I look to my left at Elle and clench my jaw in an effort to keep my hazel eyes dry. “I’m sorry I called so late. Thanks for meeting me.”

  “Parker, stop.” Elle smiles a small, kind smile. “I’m your bestie, it’s what I do. You don’t need to thank me.” She raises her eyebrow at me, playfully. “But you could buy me another drink.”

  I can’t help but return a smile. “Consider it done.”

  Elle polishes off her drink and slides the glass across the bar towards the stocky young man with spiked, aqua blue hair on the other side of it. He must be new because I don’t recognize him and I’m somewhat of a regular here at Juice. He makes eye contact with Elle as he reaches for her glass.

  “Fill her up, Jake,” Elle says and then she looks at me. “You want a drink?”

  Do I want a drink? Yes. I want to drink a whole god damned bottle of cabernet, but that could be disastrous since I have to wake up at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning for work. I better stick to one glass. “May I please have a glass of the house cab?” I say to the bartender.

  “I.D.?” Jake asks me and for a second, I am elated because for whatever reason, Jakey here thinks there is a possibility that I’m under twenty-one years old. I can’t speak for other women my age, but I am flattered whenever I get carded. I take my bag from where it’s hanging on the barstool, open it, and fish through it. I make a mental note that I seriously need to declutter this thing. I grab my wallet, pull my license from it and hand it to Jake. “Here you go.”

  Jake glances at the piece of plastic and passes it back to me. “Coming right up, ladies.” He walks away.

  “Alright,” Elle says, her blue eyes studying me. “Let’s hear it.”

  I ignore her question because I am not ready yet to tell her for the millionth time that something is awry in my relationship with Reese. I am in my thirties, which means I should have all my ducks lined up, doesn’t it? Are they lined up or in a row? Who even has ducks in the city?

  “H-e-l-l-o, Parker?” Elle’s stare is wide.

  Jake returns, placing the martini in front of Elle and the wine in front of me. “Enjoy,” he says and then walks away toward the tap machine.

  I look at Elle and tilt my head in Jake’s direction. “How do you know him?”

  “Jake?” Elle purses her lips. “I don’t. I got bored waiting for your late ass to show up and I learned his name when he so curiously said, ‘I’m Jake. I’ll be your server.’” She smirks.

  I nod, trying to force out a small chuckle. “Right.” I lift the wine glass to my mouth and take a sip. The liquid burns as it makes its way down my throat, but it’s a good burn. “Reese wants to have an open relationship.” I rehearsed saying this on drive here until I was sure that I could get those words out without them being accompanied by tears. “By the way, I wasn’t late. I’m never late. You were early. Not my problem.” I stick my tongue out at her.

  Elle laughs. “Well, at least your biting humor is still intact.” She eats the olive from her drink. “What did you say to her when she told you that that’s what she wanted?”

  “I agreed.”

  Elle coughs and puts her hand on her chest. I watch her from the corner of my eye. “You alright there, buddy?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “You did what? Why?”

  Why? That’s such a great question. Have you ever noticed that it’s usually the one word inquiries that are the most difficult to answer? For example, why? How? What? I sigh dejectedly and take another drink. “I don’t know,” I say because I really don’t.

  Elle gives me her infamous eye roll. “Dude, you have got to get out of that relationship. You’ve been unhappy for like three years now. Leave her.”

  “Dude.” I mimic her and my impression is spot on. I give myself an imaginary self-high-five. “I’m not a quitter. Partnerships take effort and sacrifice so I made a sacrifice.”

  My friend scowls at me. “You didn’t make a sacrifice. You have made beyond a normal amount of sacrifices for that woman and she has done nothing for you in return.” She shakes her head, takes a drink and looks at me. “Nothing,” she says again.

  I am not sure when I took more sips of wine but my glass is half empty. I can feel the liquor swimming in my head. “Firstly.” I pause. What’s my firstly? Oh yeah, I remember. “What exactly is the appropriate amount of sacrifices that one should make in a committed relationship? Huh?”

  “Hell if I know but I’m certain it’s way fewer than what you’ve done,” Elle says and holds out her thumb in counting position. Here we go. “You took a job you didn’t even want so that you could make more money and put her through grad school.” She sticks out her index finger.

  “I like my job,” I say.

  “Not the point. The point is that you did something you didn’t want to do.” Her finger waggles. “You moved to a town you didn’t want to move to. You hate living north of the city.”

  “I’ve adapted.”

  Elle’s middle finger joins her other two in front of my face. “Buffy.”

  My heart sinks at the mention of the adorable, black Pug I gave up for adoption. “She’s allergic to dogs.”

  Elle’s features harden. “I don’t give a fuck. She should have gotten a prescription for an allergy medication, that’s why they make ‘em…so that people like you don’t have to give up their pets for people like her.” Her eyes become squinty the way they get when she’s furious. “And now this? She wants to sleep with other women?”

  I chew on my bottom lip. “I only want her to be satisfied and apparently I’m not doing it.”

  “Then you need to cut her loose. You’re not satisfied either.”

  I can’t deny what my best friend said so I just talk. “You didn’t let me finish. I had a secondly.”

  Elle’s forehead wrinkles. “What?”

  “You said I made too many sacrifices for Reese—that was the first thing. So I said ‘firstly, blah blah blah.’ Then you said that Reese didn’t do anything for me in return, which was the second thing so now I’m saying secondly, you’re wrong.” I will my voice to have conviction.

  The creases in my friend’s brow deepen. “Okay. Tell me,
Parks, what has she done for you? What sacrifices has Reese made for you in the course of your five years together? Because I’m dying to know.”

  “Um.” Think, Parker. “She, um.” Oh my god, don’t draw a blank now. Say something. One thing. You got this. “She cooks for me.” Yes!

  Elle’s eyes bulge in horror. “That’s your secondly?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. She’s a phenomenal cook.” Alright, maybe that’s a stretch. At best, she’s mediocre.

  A frustrated grunt escapes Elle. “Whatever. She’s a fucking sous chef for all I care. That’s still not enough. You deserve more. You do not deserve to be with someone who wants to have sex with persons other than you.”

  My head tips back automatically. “Ugh!” I look at Elle. “It’s not…no. I can sleep with other women, too if I want. There are rules.”

  Both of Elle’s eyebrows lift. “Rules? Really? What are the rules?”

  My mind quickly flashes back to two hours ago, sitting across from Reese on the sofa in our living room discussing the guidelines of this new phase in our relationship. My temples begin to throb and I don’t want to tell Elle about the rules, but I do. “Neither of us can sleep with someone in our home.” My stomach ties in a tight knot. “No overnights. We go to sleep in the same bed, we wake up in the same bed.” A dull ache pierces through my chest and breathing suddenly becomes strenuous. “It can’t be anyone we both know.” The throbbing spreads throughout my skull. “There. That’s it.”

  Elle puts her hand on my upper arm and gives it a squeeze. The comforting gesture catches me off guard and I hold in the sob threatening to break free.

  “Sweetie.” Elle’s voice is full of pity. “You can change your mind. You can still say ‘no.’ You don’t have to do this.”

  I appreciate what Elle is saying, but I do have to do this. I have only ever been with Reese. Reese knows me. She accepts me. I am not easy to accept. “Right. I get that, but I have to try.”

  “Why?”

  There’s that question again. “Because.” I polish off my wine. “I love her.”