The Father

Chapter 15

I've smoked a half a pack of cigarettes in a little over an hour. My nerves haven't calmed, I'm still shaking, and my eyes have been glued to her apartment building. It's pouring rain, my windshield wipers are on full blast, and it makes it hard to see much of anything. I'm in a somewhat hidden spot across the alley from her parking lot, she couldn't see me unless she was really looking, and I'm waiting. For what, I don't know. If she brings him back here I definitely won't be able to control myself. I imagine hitting him until my hands go numb, until I can't feel anything, or until I kill him. Whichever comes first. It's a satisfying thought.

I'm like a cheated lover, like Lena, this is how she would feel if she were to catch me in my web of lies. She may not ever get the chance, because this is surely over now. It's all becoming toxic, an affair is a toxic and overwhelming thing anyway, but it's getting out of control. We're at a new level in this relationship. A level involving trust. I didn't want to question my trust of her. I'm cheating on my wife so my reputation for her is most likely tainted, even though I don't want anyone but her, and she's the only person I've ever cheated with.

My father always told me if a person will cheat with you, they'll cheat on you. But I never thought of her in that sense until now.

Nevertheless, I need to speak to her. Confront her. It's going to be a fight, I know that. And I'm not ready for the fact that it's probably going to lead to the end of us. She may not even care, she's certainly been fine with ignoring me for two weeks, so why would she care?

I sit up straight when her car appears, the rain is so heavy that I can't see inside, and once she pulls into a spot I hold my breath. When I realize she's alone I let it out and think of rushing her. She's running to her door, opening it quickly, and disappearing inside.

So she's alone. She didn't bring him back here to have sex, but she could've went to his place and fucked him. It fills me with anger. I run my hands through my hair, slide them back and forth across my face, and take my phone out.

M: I'm at your place. Please let me in so we can talk, Katherine.

I can't let on that I've seen her with someone else or she won't let me in. She might not let me in anyways, who knows with her. But she opens my message, the typing bubble comes up, and I wait impatiently.

K: Okay.

I get out quickly, run even quicker across the alley and the parking lot, and hit her buzzer. The lock clicks, I open the door, and take the stairs by twos. I'm soaking wet even thought I was only out in that rain for less than a minute, and stop in front of her door.

Can I do this?

I don't know if I can do this. Maybe I should just pretend I didn't see her. I could tell her all the things I wanted to before I saw her with that man, we could make up, and go on with our affair.

But I can't fucking do that. I couldn't live with this knowledge and pretend like I'm clueless. Nothing came to me on what I'm going to say to her, so I'm going in raw, and as I knock on the door I feel as if I could vomit again.

It opens and I can't hardly stand to look at her. She's taken her clothes off, stands before me in the same matching bra and panty set she wore the first time we fucked, and is running a towel over her hair.

"Come in. I have to put some pajamas on," she mumbles.

As she walks I stare at her body, searching for any sort of mark or giveaway that she's been with another man. But she's likely been with Maxwell. And now this other man. And me more than two weeks ago. Is she fucking three different men at once? It's sickening, but not sickening enough that I could stop wanting her.