Edward Lee - The Chosen

She had to look at him in the utmost incredulity. His audacity astounded her. “Oh, and you were just playing hopscotch with those two girls I caught you with… Well, one of them was a girl. I don’t know what the other one was.”

Paul’s face appeared corrugated as he groped for words. “Please, Vera, listen to me, I’m begging you. I don’t remember much about what happened that night but—”

“Um-hum, and let me guess. You smoke marijuana too, but you never inhale.”

“I know what I did was wrong, but, really, Vera, it wasn’t my fault.’’

“Oh, so whose fault was it then? The girls? They put a gun to your head and forced you to have sex with them? They made you snort cocaine? Is that it?’’

“I don’t even think it was cocaine, I don’t know what it was. I was sick for days afterwards,” Paul yammered. “But at least hear me out, Vera. Please—”

Vera crossed her arms, smirking. “All right, Paul. I’ll give you one minute.”

Paul sat down on the couch, pushed his hair off his brow. “That night, you remember—I went to Kaggies to do my piece on the downtown singles scene. Those two girls showed up, and I swear I never saw them before, and, yes, I started talking to them. But I never had any intention of…you know—”

“Of fucking them,” Vera assisted. “While I was at work.”

“It’s not like that at all,” he pleaded. “All I did was have a drink with them. I wanted to talk with them, I wanted to hear their perceptions about singles bars and stuff. Next thing I know we’re back here, and all kinds of weird stuff is happening. I didn’t know what I was doing, I wasn’t myself at all. I think—I think they must’ve put something in my drink.’’

Vera’s eyes turned in her head. “Paul, that is the lamest bunch of crap I’ve ever heard anyone say. You’ve got to be out of your gourd if you expect me to believe that cock and bull.”

“Vera, I swear, it’s true, they put some drug in my beer that made me nuts. I didn’t even know who I was. I was unconscious for two days. I missed my deadline. I lost my job…”

“Good,” Vera told him. “You deserve to lose your job for talking such ridiculous shit.”

Paul’s face fell into his hands. Suddenly he was sobbing. “Aw, God, Vera, please believe me. And please, please forgive me…”

“Forgive you? What, and then we’ll just pick up where we left off? Just forget it ever happened, and everything’ll be peachy? Is that what you want?”

Even he must realize how foolish he sounded. His face was wet now when he looked up at her. “We had so many plans, didn’t we? We had a life together. You want to throw that all away?”

For a fraction of a second, Vera paused. It was true. They did have plans, wonderful plans. They did have a life together; what they had together, in fact, was what she wanted more than anything in the world. They’d had it all—

And he destroyed it all, she thought.

“I’m leaving now, Paul—”

“No, please!”

“—and I hope I never see you again.”

Now Paul sobbed outright. It was so pathetic to see him cry; it was also very satisfying. His words hitched out of his throat like a ratchet: “I’m begging you, Vera, please forgive me. Please don’t go...I love you, Vera.”

Vera had her hand on the doorknob; again, she paused. I love you, he’d just said. How many other men had said that to her in her life, with any degree of genuineness? None, she knew.

Her pause at the door wavered…

Don’t fall for it, Vera, that other voice crept back into her head.

“I love you, Vera.”

Don’t be a sucker!

No, no, she wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t let him do this to her. Hadn’t he done enough already?

“Your love is like the rest of you, Paul. It’s fake. It’s a lie. It’s pure grade-A shit.”

Then she walked out and very quietly closed the door behind her.

««—»»

She cruised downtown in the Lamborghini, sorting her thoughts. At first she felt very confused; she ran two red lights on Church Circle and nearly drove the wrong way down Main Street. Get hold of yourself, you air head! She doubted that Feldspar would be pleased were she to bring the ’ghini back to The Inn with a bashed-in front end. She parked at the City Dock, buttoned up her coat, and got out to walk in the cold.

Full winter made the city look flattened and drab. Most of the boat slips were vacant; the few that weren’t berthed tarp-covered bulks. Her heels ticked on the cement as she wandered about the city’s deserted nub. Frigid wind clawed at her like a molester’s frantic hands.

Was she having second thoughts? How could she, after what she’d seen that night? They put drugs in his beer, she remembered. He could at least manufacture a better lie than that! Suddenly it didn’t matter that he regretted what he’d done; it didn’t even matter that he claimed to still love her. She knew she could never see him again, never even consider him. Vera had always tried never to hold a person’s past against him (wasn’t Donna, a former alcoholic, a perfect example?), but this was sorely different. Drugs, bondage, group sex? She’d be out of her mind…

You did the right thing, Vera. You’d never be able to trust him again.

Yes, she felt sure of that, and all at once she felt a lot better. Donna had been right all along: once she confronted him, once she told him off for good, she’d feel like a new person. All her stresses and uncertainties fled from her, right there on the cold, cobblestoned incline of Main Street.

She felt cleansed, exorcised. The drab city seemed brighter now, and clean, as if she’d just stepped into a different, better world.

Now I can really get on with my life!

««—»»

Before she returned to the parking lot, she stepped into the Main Street Crown, to browse. She hadn’t read a book in months, save for that ludicrous tome about haunted mansions. A good romance would be nice, something hot. She picked several titles off the rack, and smiled when she turned and noticed the occult/new age section right behind her. The Complete Compendium of Demons, the title of the big glossy-black hardcover jumped out at her. By Richard Long! she noted, the same guy who wrote the haunted mansion book! Vera couldn’t resist. I simply must buy this for Donna, she decided. She’ll definitely get a kick out of it.

After she bought the books, she considered stopping into The Undercroft for lunch, but then thought better of it. No doubt she’d run into people she knew, who would all ask questions about where she’d gone, and why. That part of her life was over, so why bother? I live somewhere else now, she thought, and got back into the car. My life is somewhere else…

Goodbye, city.

She drove back up Main, to catch Route 50 off the Circle. She slowed but wasn’t quite sure why. The streets were relatively empty, rows of shops shunned by the cold. A thin woman rushed across the street at the light, dressed in old jeans and a shale-colored overcoat. A stiff wind disheveled her short blond hair. Then, at the opposing sidewalk, she turned, obviously taking note of Vera’s shiny Lamborghini.

Then she walked on.

Vera stared dumbly ahead; at first she couldn’t imagine why. But when her subconscious finally clicked, she stomped the gas.

The blond woman was just turning at the Circle. Vera idled past the Old Post Office, lowering the power passenger window.

Don’t make an idiot of yourself, she fretted. Are you sure it’s who you think it is?