He's a Cheater ✔️

Julie

The blaring of sirens and abrupt honking of cars was soothing to me. It all made sense to me. 

At least it made more sense than what had just happened. 

Why was I such an idiot? Why was Mary so forgiving? Why had I screwed up my life so much?

I could feel my phone vibrating, but I didn't want to check it. I didn't want to do anything. Except maybe jump off a cliff.

To try and clear my thoughts, I decided to take a walk. It would probably just make things worse for me, but suddenly I felt like being a masochist. I deserved the pain. 

I sat down on one of the faded white benches, with the paint rusting away with every passing year. I felt utterly empty. 

There was a shuffling of feet and somebody sat next to me. I glanced over curiously, and there was probably the most bizarre woman sitting at my side. 

"Hey, you look like you need a friend," she smiled. 

"I don't deserve one," I replied truthfully, staring at my hands. 

"I'm Julie," she told me, holding out her hand. She had a dozen brightly colored rubber bands hanging off her arms, and her nails were painted twenty different colors.  I took her hand anyways. 

"I'm Jake," I informed her, dropping my hand quickly. 

"So, Jake, what brings you here on a gorgeous Monday morning. You look like you're in college..." she asked, her bright green eyes coated with purple eyeliner, staring at me quizzically. 

"Needed a day off," I shrugged. 

"Ah... stress getting to you?" she asked knowingly. 

"Not as much as my hatred for myself."

"Don't beat yourself up, you can't control everything," she told me reassuringly, patting my shoulder.

"I could've controlled this," I muttered. 

"What could you have controlled?" she asked me, again, shifting her body so that she was looking at me. 

"I cheated on my girlfriend... I lied to her... and broke her heart," I confessed, choking back the tears.

"The fact that you're here shows that you cared for her, and you still do," she told me, placing her hand on my arm. 

"It doesn't matter if I care."

"I think it does," she said, getting up off of the bench. She looked at her shoes, which were hot pink with faded stickers patched on them, and then looked up with another smile. "I think she still cares about you too."

With that, she ran away, and soon was just a silhouette of bright neon colors. And with that she left me even more confused and frustrated then I already was.
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I knocked tentatively on the door, still poised in a way that would allow me to make a quick escape, if necessary. Hopefully it wouldn't be necessary. 

Why was I here? Why did I think Mary could forgive me? That she could take me back? How could I ask that much of her, especially when I couldn't forgive myself? I gulped audibly, as I heard echoing footsteps, getting louder and nearer.

I heard the lock click, and the doorknob jiggle, each sound making my heart beat faster, before the pastel colored door finally swung open, breaking me down to a puddle of hopeless tears. They rolled down my cheeks as a disheveled Mary stood in the doorway, her face blurred by my watery eyes. 

"Jake?" she asked, her voice raspy and raw, as I tried to cease my uncontrollable tears.

"Yeah?" I mumbled, my voice small and quiet, looking down at my feet.

"Come in," she stammered, moving from the doorway, clearing a path for me. I stepped inside her apartment hesitantly, and turned to face her, as she closed the door behind her.

"Did you mean it?" she murmured abruptly, leaving me bewildered.

"Did I mean what?" I voiced my thoughts.

"It's all coming back to me slowly- yesterday- and you said that," she gulped, "you said that you loved me, Jake. Do you?"

I stared at her for a while, in a loss for words, as I processed what she was actually asking me. "I think..." I trailed off, trying to find my confidence and dignity alike, before I finally came across an answer. "I do."

"I do too," she cried out in despair and relief, throwing herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck, burying her head in the crook of my neck. She smelled of acrylic paint and vanilla, as she cried into my shirt, which was still wrinkly from yesterday. I slowly brought my arms up, as my brain caught up to what had actually happened, and I held her tightly, afraid that she would just disappear like a wisp of smoke.

But she didn't.

She loved me, and I loved her.

She hadn't forgiven me, not yet, that would take time and trust, both of which we had. One day we would be whole again.

One day we would be complete again.

But for now, we were happy, and that was all that really mattered.