100 Miles and Running

IntrigueBetrayalLamps

It wasn't over when he expected at the beginning of summer, but in late June the opportunity presented itself again.

I had a weekend off of work, so I booked us the same hotel from my visit in April. It was only one night, but we were going to make the most of it. Things were going smoothly. Not even 5 minutes after we got upstairs, he was sitting on the bed and gave me the look. I knew that look. It was like he was insatiable.

To say it was incredible is an understatement. I thought two months earlier was something for the record books, but this time put that one to shame. After that night, I couldn't imagine being with anyone else. No one would compare. The way he moved, his strength, the way I felt euphoria across every nerve ending of my body. We had such raw sexual chemistry. Being with Colson was the only thing that I was sure of. It was him, always had been and always would be. We satisfied the primal instincts within each other. He would go on to tell me how I was the only one that could quench his thirst. Things were good between us. I had pushed dating off my mind.

In my defense, I was paranoid. I had been cheated on and cheated with so many times, I had a severe distrust for men. It may have not been a good move, because it's a serious invasion of privacy, but I always had a problem with impulse control.

I was having trouble sleeping. He was already out cold. I couldn't focus on the terrible movie playing on the television. I watched him sleep for a few minutes. I thought I would text him something sweet in the moment. I don't remember my exact words anymore. The rage that followed wiped my memory of the nice things I had thought.

After I sent the message, his phone lit up. It was me, but I thought, what else is on there? It was a bad decision, but I needed what came after. When I picked it up, I was the only notification. Okay. But I was still curious, so I swiped open. I started peeking through apps, texts, pictures. I found things that I didn't want to see. There was a girl, with her name saved as something cutesy, that infuriated me beyond belief. She was the one before me. If he didn't change her name, did he still feel that way about her? Then I saw the gallery. The same girl's selfies were in the screenshots folder. Why? God, I just wanted to rip her ugly head off. But the other folders held something that I felt was the final straw. I found nude  photos and videos of other girls. I know how technology works, so I looked at the details. They were time stamped two weeks earlier. I couldn't take it anymore. I looked at him, and punching the back of his head crossed my mind. Instead I decided to go outside to calm down.

I walked to the gas station across from the hotel and bought a cigar. I'm not sure why I smoked them, but I only did it in times of extreme aggression. I started crying. How could he do this to me? I thought we had agreed we were only going to do that with each other. But he was exchanging nude photos with someone else very recently. What a bastard! I called my work best friend, because she was the only person I knew would be awake at 2 am.

When she picked up, I just started yelling. I was so mad at him! It quickly became tears though.

"I don't know what to do, Becca. I'm so mad I just want to get my shit and come home right now."

"Do it! Fuck that asshole! He doesn't deserve you. Get your stuff and come home!"

It didn't take much convincing before I hung up the phone and walked back to the hotel. After I clicked "end", my messages popped up.

"Colson Baker: Mariela, where are you?"

Fuck. He had woken up. By the time I got back to the room I was on a mission: grab your shit and leave. Don't talk to him, don't look at him, just go. I didn't see him in the room when I walked in, so I thought maybe it would be easy. Halfway through collecting my things, he walked out of the bathroom. He didn't say anything, just stood there. When I had all my stuff I walked out, stopping in the doorway to tell him to find his own ride home.

I got to the elevator, which was only about 20 feet outside of our room, and hit the button. But before it opened I realized I couldn't do it. I turned around and stormed back into the room.

"I hope you're happy!"

He just stood there staring. I continued yelling, but my words from that night escape me now. I told him what I saw, how it made me feel, how I thought he was an asshole. He sat down on the bed while I stood at the end. I kept going because he wouldn't say anything. He just had his head down, a defeated look on his face. After a few minutes I sat down. My anger turned into sadness, like all my feelings do. I was crying, but I was still talking. I was more hurt now than angry.

He admitted to it, explaining the little things like the saved name, and apologizing for the photos.

"I had a moment of weakness. It was just some girl. It didn't mean anything. It was just a quick orgasm and I was over it. I'm so sorry."

He broke down and finally opened up to me about his feelings. He had never done that before. I was weak. The strong woman who was going to storm out and leave him stranded, was now a puddle that just wanted to hold him. I stood next to him as he poured his heart out.

"Tomorrow you can go home and never speak to me again. Just stay tonight. Please don't leave. Please." I could hear how shaky his voice was.

"When I sat down," I pointed to the chair, "I had given up on leaving."

He hugged me like a man who had just been rescued from his death.

"I told you I would always love you and I meant it. Just don't do it again. You mean more to me than anything in the world, and that.. that really fucking hurt me."

We sat and talked for two more hours. Facing each other, he held my hand the whole time. I couldn't help myself. I had to forgive him. I was beyond in love with him. What he did would always remain in the back of my mind, but I couldn't walk away from him. I always quote back to him, one of my favorite lines by my favorite character in my favorite show:

"If I could just give up, if I could just take the whole world's advice and move on and find someone else, that wouldn't be love. That would be some other disposable thing that is not worth fighting for. But that is not what this is."

I couldn't walk away. I couldn't leave him. You can't walk away from love. So I stayed. He eventually got tired around 4:30 in the morning and fell asleep. I spent the entire morning laying in the dark, thinking about everything that had happened with us, and listening to his breathing.