“You're on my property, so you need to leave.”
“Where is she? What is going on?” I demanded, desperate for something. They could at least tell me why everyone wanted my damn head on a stake.
Lee scoffed, my words igniting a rage I had never seen before. “Really? You filthy fucking pig!”
“Seriously, overkill, much? Like you haven't dated someone at work before?” I challenged.
“Not while married!” she spat.
I cocked my head at her. “What?”
“I would never date someone while married, you pig!” she hollered, lurching forward and waving the bolt cutters before being pulled back by the man, a hand around her upper arm. “I’ll take what little manhood you have left, asshole!”
Married? What the fuck was she talking about? “I'm not married.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure.”
“I'm not.”
Her jaw clenched as she eyed me over. “You can't deny it. We all saw the paperwork, idiot.”
“What paperwork? Who saw what?” I asked.
“The paperwork that skank handed out in a little packet with pictures of you macking on my best friend.”
I rubbed between my eyebrows, frustrated to hell and back. I just wanted to see Elena. I was tired of playing fifty questions. “What paper? What packet?”
“Your employment papers. You're checked as married, you idiot.”
“I've been divorced for four years,” I replied, shaking my head. “What is going on?”
“Yeah, sure, buddy.”
I ignored her words, ready to figure out the mess for myself. If she wouldn’t help me, I’d have to find Elena on my own.“Whatever. Where did you get this packet? Do you have a copy?”
“No! I threw it away. Along with every other one I could rip out of people's hands.”
“People's?” I repeated. As in more than one?
“Yeah. Monica handed them out like newsletters in the office.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I roared. No one had a right to see us like that. No one had a right to see my private documents from God knows how long ago.
The man stepped slightly in front of Lee at my outburst, but she still kept her eyes locked on me, hatred burning. “Yep. You're busted as a cheat, and my best friend is devastated.”
I sighed. “Lee, I'm divorced. I can pull out the decree to prove it.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Oh, from what? Like Friday?”
“No, from four fucking years ago. Do you want me to call my ex-wife? Would you like to talk to her?” I challenged. I didn't want to call her, but I would if need be. “Her name is Bianca. Bianca Barrett. It used to be Ambrosio, but she’s reluctant to give up my name. Turns out BB is a cute nickname for the cam shows she hosts.”
Elena was my everything. Not telling her about Bianca wasn’t the brightest move, but it wasn’t like I purposely kept it a secret. I barely thought of the woman that pushed me over the edge anymore with Elena by my side.
Bianca would always be a colossal mistake. It wasn’t every day you found out your wife fucked two of your friends. Or that she lied about infertility, pocketing money for treatments to run off with another man. But that was the reality she delivered via phone call, the betrayal too much after months of trying to keep her happy, fighting for a love I never had. After isolating myself from everyone but her to make it work, I finally realized it never would, a truth that was my undoing.
I couldn’t stand one second of Elena thinking I betrayed her like that. I didn’t even get a chance to explain myself. Someone else rewrote history, leaving out the part where I got divorced and started a new life.
I hadn’t hated many people in my years, not even Bianca, but I hated Monica. I hated her for causing the woman I loved pain. I hated her for manipulating others out of amusement like some game.
I could hear Nana deep inside, shouting at me to not give in to the anger, the hatred. It was the same thing she told me when the incubator took off, abandoning us like we weren’t a goddamn thing to her. She begged me not to hate her, to understand that Mama was broken, but I hated that goddamn woman, and I hated Monica the same.
Especially as Lee slammed the door in my face.
Elena
I made it to I-88 without issue, traveling passed Schenectady and avoiding traffic despite the weather. I was glad I sucked it up and put new tires on the car in early summer, as the bald ones I clung to before would have left me in a ditch already. As much as dropping a few hundred dollars on rubber sucked, skidding off the road and wrecking my car would suck a lot more.
The lack of traffic was nice yet unnerving, most motorists pulling into rest stops to wait out the storm while others trudged along, their hazards flashing through the wintry mess. From the radio, I knew a state of emergency was issued, over a foot of snow expected to follow the heavy slush. It was all the more reason to keep moving. If I stayed put, I wouldn’t get to Dad’s for days, as snowplows were few and far between on the isolated stretches ahead.
US-7 was where the real fun began, Hank awakening from a nap and yowling at every possible pitch. He had a one-man concert, playing every role in a cat choir, going from sad kitty to Satan in a flash.
Naturally, I sang to calm him, making up lovey-dovey lyrics to the tune of every lullaby I could think of. Unfortunately, he didn’t appreciate my renditions of Hush Little Hankie and Hankie, Hankie Little Cat, practically screaming in horror the more I went on.
After another hour, my phone joined the party, ringing and chiming as Hank continued, the only vocalist left in our short-lived musical duo. I could tell by the ringer it was Jason, so I didn't pull
