Arsen stares at Ben with dislike in his narrowed eyes. Just when I think he’s going to reject his offer once more, he tilts his head to the side and pins me down with his gaze. Slowly, a smile appears on his face. “You know what? Go ahead. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ben. Cathy,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll see ya around.”

Standing up, he grabs his suit jacket that was lying on his side of the couch and says his last goodbye. He doesn’t shake hands with Ben, and he doesn’t even turn to look at me as he walks away.

It hurts.

I don’t know why, but his indifference hurts. It shouldn’t because he’s nothing to me, but it still does.

I’m about to excuse myself to Ben saying that I need to use the restroom, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around in my seat to find Arsen standing behind my chair. Ready to stand up and ask him what the matter is, he leans down and plants a lingering kiss on my cheek. His warm lips make my skin tingle.

“I’m sorry, Dimples,” he ruefully whispers in my ear, then moves away. I lift a hand to my cheek to rub the exact spot where he kissed me, not sure if I’m rubbing the tingling sensation away, or if I’m trying to seal the kiss within my skin.

He walks up to the bar to say something to the bartender, a model perfect Asian woman who smiles and writes something on the palm of his hand. When she walks away to serve other clients, a smiling Arsen turns to look at a group of young women sitting together, admiring him. He hands them what looks like a business card and kisses each one of them on the cheek. The flirting doesn’t bother me, but when he kisses them on the same spot where he kissed me, it feels as if he is punching me in the gut.

It feels like betrayal.

I’m still watching his retreating figure when he reaches the entrance to the bar. Inside me, a strong voice is begging him to turn back around once more, to let me see him one last time.

And then everything becomes a blur.

Ben lets go of my hand.

Arsen turns around.

Our eyes connect for a moment.

I see something in his eyes that resonates deep inside me, but I don’t understand it.

I don’t think I’m ready to understand it.

Then he is gone.

I feel bereft. As if some basic living part of me has gone with him, leaving me incomplete, lacking. Perplexed and uncomfortable with my own feelings, I remember that Ben is here with me. Turning to look at my husband whose presence I completely forgot about, I feel shame scorching my skin an angry red.

“I think we should go,” he says tonelessly.The ride home is quiet.

No hands are held, no laughs, no questions about how our day went...maybe everything has already been said, or nothing needs to be said at all. When we get home, our cat is the only living thing there to welcome us.

I take my jacket off and lower myself on my knees to pet Mimi as I coo, “Hi, pretty girl. Did you miss your mommy and daddy?” Purring, she lets me pick her up in my arms. I kiss the top of her head, stalling for time. I’m not sure why, but I feel like I have some explaining to do as if I’m guilty of a major crime.

Maybe you are.

No, I’m not.

No, I am not.

“Would you like another beer before going to bed?” Hesitation echoes in my voice. I let Mimi jump down and move to the kitchen looking for food.

I watch as Ben removes his pinstriped navy blue Brooks Brothers suit jacket, the outline of the thick muscles on his back visible through the white shirt. He turns to look at me as he starts to tug at his tie. Forcefully.

I love that tie.

I bought it for him.

Looking past me, he talks cooly to his reflection in the mirror behind me, “Not tonight. On our way here, I remembered some paperwork that needs my attention. I’m going to head to the office and,” he glances at me sideways, “Work.”

His words feel like a bucket full of ice-cold water thrown in my face. “Oh, okay. I just…you, um…okay. I guess. Should I wait up for you?” I look down at my watch and see that it’s only 10:00 p.m.

“No.”

Ben closes the space between us, wraps his hands around my shoulders and leans down to kiss me. I close my eyes and wait for his kiss. A kiss that I hope will clear the stiffness in the air. Seconds pass and nothing.

Opening my eyes, brown ones meet my stare. Slowly, I watch as Ben lets go of my shoulder, his hand making its way to my face. Cupping my cheek, his thumb softly rubs the spot where Arsen kissed me as if cleaning a stain off my skin.

Silently, we stare at each other as time stands still.

“Go to bed, Cathy,” he whispers huskily.

And he is gone.

I toss and turn for what seems like hours. Images of Ben and Arsen keep swirling in my head, disrupting me from falling asleep. I give up and turn on the lamp on my nightstand as my eyes land on the alarm clock.

1:11 a.m.

And no Ben.

My gaze lands on my cellphone, a crazy idea settling in my head. Before I lose courage, I reach for it and type a message.

C: What was that about?

I wait for ten minutes which turns into a half hour. Giving up the hope that he’ll text me back, I put my phone down on the nightstand when it buzzes.

A: Go f**k your husband, Dimples. I’m busy.

His message is like a stinging slap on the face. Perplexed by his answer and hurt by his words, I decide he doesn’t deserve an answering text.

I wonder who is keeping him busy? The answer shouldn’t matter to me, but it does.

When I lie back on my pillow, turning on my side and pulling the covers around my shoulders, I close my eyes tightly and try to fall asleep. I try to push Arsen’s message out of my mind.

It shouldn’t bother me. It shouldn’t hurt me. He is nothing to me.

But, it does.

I don’t know why,

And I don’t think I want to know why.

As I’m drifting into sweet oblivion, the last image to cross my mind is of a pair of saddened brown eyes.

Ben.
Hearing my alarm going off, I groan as I reach blindly to shut it off. In the early morning, even the most melodious tune can sound like an aggressive battle cry to start the day. I hate it. After I shut off the annoying sound, I lie flat on my back and stretch my arms and legs, shaking the sleep away. Turning to my left, I open my eyes, expecting to find a sleepy Ben snoozing.

He isn’t there.

His pillow looks fluffy and perfect, like he didn’t sleep on it. My skin prickling, I sit up and look around. Ben is nowhere to be seen. Even the bathroom door remains closed. He has a bad habit of always leaving the door open whenever he takes a shower, letting the steam escape purposefully. He says too much steam makes him sweat.

“Ben?” I ask, my voice groggy from sleep.

No answer.

Once I’m standing, the chilly air touches the skin that isn’t covered by my silky top and shorts, raising goosebumps all over my body. I rub my arms to warm myself up as I reach the bathroom door and open it slowly. Ben is not here.

I notice something stuck between the glass and the wooden frame on the mirror above my dresser. Biting my lip, I reach for the note and read it. My hand covers my mouth as I feel my breath catch in the back of my throat.

Hope you don’t mind driving yourself to work this morning. I forgot to tell you last night that I needed to go to the office earlier than usual this morning. Big lawsuit. Don’t expect me for dinner.

Ben.

He didn’t wake me up to say good-bye.

He left without saying a word.
With a tight chest and a churning stomach, I make it to work. I hope the way my day started isn’t a sign of things to come because I might not be able to make it through without breaking down and crying. On my drive into the city, I tried calling Ben three times, but each time Carla excused him, saying that he was in meetings. Ben has never not answered my phone calls and he has never left home without first kissing me goodbye.

Until today.

On the short walk from the parking garage to my office, I notice the dark sky with its ominous gray clouds heralding showers any moment now.

Great, that’s just great.

The humid air makes my body feel clammy with sweat, causing my clothes to stick to my skin, and the constant honking of busy traffic in the middle of rush hour in Manhattan feels like a nail being pounded into my head with each blare of a horn. I make it to the office without getting rained on, say hello to the security guards, and head to the office.

Once I’m sitting behind my desk, I reach for my black leather Gucci satchel and pull out my phone and a small pocket size mirror. Feeling a tight knot form in my stomach after I confirm that Ben hasn’t called me back, I wonder if I should give him another call.

But my pride won’t let me.

I didn’t do anything wrong. If he would only speak to me, I would know what was the matter. Arsen, the small voice inside my head whispers. No. Why would Ben be upset about Arsen? There is nothing there.

We are friends. Good friends.

Or so I thought.

After yesterday, I’m not sure anymore. Ben knows, he suspects. Shaking my head like a mad woman, I try to dispel the insinuating thoughts roaring through my mind.

No, no, no!

With a trembling hand, I put my cellphone back in my bag and reach for my mirror on the desk. I take a look at myself, and I’m appalled to see the black bags under my eyes. The tight bun holding my blonde hair in place only accentuates how tired and pale I look, almost like a ghost. And not even the small amount of makeup I have can hide the fact that today I don’t look my best.

Whatever.

I’m allowed to have a bad day, right? After I apply some much-needed lipstick and blush, I’m ready to officially start the day.

“There you are! Cathy, I’m going through a major crisis in my life.”

“Morning, Amy. You’re looking well this morning.” I smile at her, even if it’s the last thing I want to do at the moment. She looks breathtaking with her hair blown out in thick curls and the tight grey pantsuit she’s wearing.

“Thank you, love. You look great as well. Black suits you with your coloring. Anyway, as I was saying…major crisis, Hello!”

“Well, tell me about it. We have a couple minutes to waste.” I feel the first sincere smile on my face since yesterday evening.

Amy grabs a fiery red wave between her fingers and observes it for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “Catherine, Cathy, Cat…the sad truth is that I need a good screwing. I have forgotten what it feels like to have an orgasm without my rabbit.”

I feel my cheeks blush. “Um,” How do you answer that? “I thought you, uh, weren’t you seeing that guy with the yacht? What was his name? Nigel?”

Amy moves to sit on the corner of my desk, exactly where Arsen sat yesterday. The moment feeling like a déjà vu. “Yes…but he wasn’t good in bed. At all. Like, sex with Nigel was one, two, ooooh baby, baby, you’re so tight, so wet, and he was done.” Snapping her fingers, she motions the quickness of the act itself before continuing, “I’m totally under-fucked. Which reminds me, I need you to introduce me to Charles. What? Don’t look at me with those big and pretty green eyes of yours. I’m a straight woman, they don’t work on me. You know which Charles I’m talking about. Girl, I need him in my bed. Now. And you’re going to make it happen.”

Oh boy.

“Amy, um, he is Bruno’s closest friend. You remember who Bruno is, right? Your boss? My boss? How the hell am I going to introduce you two if I’m not friends with him?”

She waves her hand in the air, as if that small detail has no bearing on the conversation. “I’m not sure. I noticed him at the cocktail party that Bruno held when he first got in town. I saw him talking to you and Ben, and he was checking me out. So make it happen, Cathy. I have faith in you and your planning abilities. Invite him to dinner or something. I’m serious, Cathy. I want him.”

“What makes you think he is, you know, good in bed? I mean he’s good looking but—”

“Darling, dahhhling...the man has been around. Don’t let him fool you by his girly job. If half the things that are said about him are true, I might be bowlegged for a couple days,” Amy devilishly smirks, wiggling her elegant eyebrows at me, and causing us to laugh.

Amy and I are still laughing when an angry Bruno storms into my office. Without saying a word to us, he throws a newspaper on my desk.

“Look at this!” He shouts. Puzzled, we lean over my desk to have a better look at the front page of the publication.

The picture erases all traces of mirth off my face.

Swallowing hard, I reach for the newspaper and bring it closer so that I can see the image clearer. When I’m holding it between my hands, I can feel Amy move closer to me. “Oh, no.”

My stomach recoils as I scrutinize the picture. Plastered on the front page is a picture of Arsen sniffing coke off a girl’s breasts. The white shirt he wore yesterday is mostly open, revealing his beautiful and perfect tanned chest. His blond hair looks messy, but it’s his flat stare that breaks me. His eyes look cold. So cold. Arsen is high on alcohol or drugs, maybe both, and he appears not to care that he’s being photographed. This guy is the old Arsen, not the sweet guy that I’ve grown to care for in the past months. It looks like they are at someone’s house and the girl is the same bartender from last night. The same one.

I know I’m to blame for this.

My throat dry, I’m having some difficulty swallowing as I remember the way he looked at me before leaving. When our eyes connected for an instant that felt like an eternity, I remember seeing emotions reflected in them that I pushed to the back of my mind, pretending that they didn’t exist.

Betrayal.

Hurt.

Anger.