As promised, here is an excerpt from my upcoming release, LOVE IN TRANSLATION.
My hands tremble as I grip the wheel and drive fast, too fast, down the road that leads to David’s. It is nearing midnight when I park a few houses away from his. The full moon lights up the street and I have a clear view of his house.
What the hell am I doing here?
I take in a deep breath and turn off the engine. I really don’t know what I’m doing, or how I got here, but, here I am anyway.
David was the perfect boyfriend; smart, confident, kind, and loving. But, a few weeks ago, he changed. At first, the changes were hardly significant. But they grew, as did the feeling in my gut telling me that something was wrong, and I’ve always trusted my intuition.
I was too embarrassed to talk about it with anyone. I needed unbiased advice – so I did what any person of my generation would do and looked online. I stumbled upon a pretty in-depth article on a relationship help website that seemed right up our alley. It offered good advice and listed our current state as a “rough patch.” It said that all couples go through something similar around the two-year mark. Common factors included pressure related to moving in together, getting married, etc. The article said that I had nothing to worry about and that things would sort themselves over. So, I didn’t worry, even though things continued to get worse — even though I was sure that the end of our relationship was near.
And I was right. Late last night, David stumbled into my apartment. He was a complete mess. We exchanged a few words, and then I looked into his eyes and knew what was coming. He was focused. He cleared his throat and said that he needed space.
I stared at him blankly as he walked out the door and never looked back.
I replay the night over in my head as I sit in my car staring pensively across the street into the bay windows of his living room. I can’t see anything through his thick wood blinds, but I think of David and what he might be doing at this very moment. I picture him lying on the couch in his favorite pair of basketball shorts watching “SportsCenter.” I can see him munching on salty popcorn and drinking a cold beer while he watches the replays from the basketball game earlier today. I would even bet that stinky bulldog of his is lying at his feet, panting heavily as he takes his evening nap.
A part of me wants to knock on his door and say something, but what? I don’t know. I think about all of the things that I should say to him; all of the things that I should have said last night. We are making a mistake David, I say aloud to myself while looking in the mirror. Ouch! I’m such a mess right now. I haven’t brushed my hair all day, so I run my fingers through it quickly. If I am going to knock on his door, I want to look presentable – not desperate. As I straighten my t-shirt and check my teeth, I spot something from the corner of my eye. I see David’s front light turn on, then, a few seconds later, the garage door opening.
I could be face to face with him any minute now and it makes my insides turn. He walks out of the garage toward his car. He isn’t wearing his favorite basketball shorts like I imagined. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of dark slacks, a gray polo shirt and his dress shoes.
He’s dressed up. But why?
He walks over to the passenger side and opens the door. Within seconds, I see a woman walk out of the garage toward him. She is model-esque and effortlessly chic with long, straight hair in that new ombre style I kept meaning to try out on myself. Good thing I never got around to it. She takes a few more steps, and then glides effortlessly into the car.
What the fuck is going on?
My body tenses and my heart starts pounding. Not in a good way — but in the “Oh, you dirty bastard” kind of way.
Who is she?
Feeling slightly naïve, I give him the benefit of the doubt as I run through my mental rolodex of the women in his life, but my mind draws blank after blank. After a few more attempts at convincing myself that this isn’t really what I think it is, I give up and it hits me like a ton of bricks.
How long had this been going on?
My hands tremble as I grasp the steering wheel tightly and think about how blind I had been. My ex-boyfriend of a few hours is going on a date, with another woman.