Waiting For You...

“Here — drink up,” I said, placing a steaming coffee beside him, the smoky aroma briefly warming my nostrils. “It won’t stay hot for long.”

He was already squirming in his chair. It wouldn’t be long before he’d give me some bullshit excuse and leave early — his daughter had a dance recital, his bitchface wife just texted asking where he was, he needed to feed his cat.

Then, seeing how upset I was, he’d turn on the charm like a light switch. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you, babe,” he’d say, placing a finger under my chin and lifting my head up to look at his chiseled face. “You understand, right?”

And, as always, I’d blink away my tears, and smile. “Of course.”

Well, not this time.

He never touched the coffee — they never did. He just stared at me and sighed, the breath from his nose fogging the air. Was I really so annoying that he couldn’t bare to listen to me for five fucking minutes?

I fidgeted with my cold hands, rubbing each finger as I thought about what to say. This part was always the most difficult. I’d never been good with words, let alone expressing my feelings. It was easier to push it all down — way down.

“It’s been four years, Justin.”

Justin shook his head and mumbled something. The fan drowned him out.

“I know, I know — it doesn’t feel that long. We’ve had a lot of fun. It’s been amazing, really. But yeah — four years since that party where we…” My cheeks burned as I gave him a shy smile. “Well, you remember what we did.”

I sat on the floor, which did my freezing butt no favors at all, and brought my knees to my chest. “Oh, that night. You know, every girl in the office drew me daggers as you led me by the hand to the bathroom. I bet they’d all have traded places with me in a heartbeat. I was the lucky one though.

“And remember you told me to keep my glasses on because they looked sexy? Ha! It was just was well, because I can’t see a thing without them. Imagine that, though? Me, the little geek who’d never had a boyfriend — sexy. I still think about that.”

Despite the chill, my heart filled with the warmth of a hundred memories, and a familiar tingle crept through me till I felt giddy. “All those nights in motels. So secretive, clandestine. I was terrified at first, convinced we’d get caught. Oh — do you remember that time we almost did? You pulled up outside, and Jim from Accounting knocked on your window? Come to think of it, what was he doing there? None of my business, I suppose. Everyone’s entitled to their secrets, right?”

Justin looked right through me, like I was boring him. Get to the fucking point, Gina — that’s probably what he was thinking. There never was much time for talking, not after he’d gotten what he came for.

“It’s been the best time of my life.” My smile faded as I fought to keep my composure. “And the worst.”

He tensed as I put my head in his lap. Sometimes I just wanted a cuddle — was that really so weird?

“Four years, Justin.” My voice was firmer now, stronger. People always thought I was weak, but how wrong they were. “Four years since we got together. And three years since you swore you’d leave your wife.”

I sniffled, partly because I was about to cry, and partly because my nose was so cold it might fall off. His scent though… I could have lay in his lap forever — maybe he’d like that too?

“I just… I love you, Justin. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep waiting for you. I’ve given you all of me… and I deserve all of you.”

I sat up and wiped the cold wetness from my nose, then faced him. “You have to choose. Me or her. And you have to choose now.”

I waited for him to answer, but he never spoke. Then he muttered something again, but I couldn’t make it out, his voice muffled.

Then I realized why.

“Oops,” I said, removing the duct tape from his mouth. “Silly me. Please, go on.”

He gasped, his breathing ragged like he’d been underwater. “Please, just let me go.”

“Wrong answer,” I said, my patience wavering already. “Try again.”

“But I’m not Justin!”

“You are exactly like him. You’re all the fucking same.”

“Please… I have a wife.”

I slapped him, the cold of his cheek stinging my palm. “I knew it. Did you think about your wife when you had your tongue down my throat in the bar earlier?”

Justin, or whatever his name was, began to cry. What happened to the smooth-talking Casanova I’d met earlier? Spineless cowards, every last one of them.

“I just wanna go home.”

“And what about what I want, Justin? Doesn’t that matter to you at all?”

“Please! Please — I’ll do anything.”

“Is there something wrong with me? What is it about me that you don’t love?”

“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!”

The tape went back over his mouth, and I walked to the door. “I’m sorry. I’m putting to much pressure on you. I’ll give you some time to think.”

I opened the door, the room temperature a welcome change from that of the freezer. “Just don’t take too long, like the other Justins did.”

I slammed the door shut, but his screaming stayed with me.