My dress was still on the couch. Unfortunately, a newly awake John was there as well. I didn’t even care as I dropped the blanket and slipped it on right there in front of him. He looked at me uninterestedly.
“Lover’s spat?” He questioned casually, taking a sip from his cup of tea. I looked at him placidly through tear swollen eyes. “Go to hell Lennon.”
As I marched out the door, I heard him laugh behind me. “I’ll be there soon enough love!’”
I didn’t want to take a cab so I half-walked half-stumbled down the sidewalk, not having a clue where I was going.
It didn’t really matter though.
Guilt was going to eat me alive before I made it home anyway. I felt violated, and stupid. I had never intended to let things go so far.
How could I do this to Danny? He’d never been a bad boyfriend. Hitting me was an accident. He would apologize, and I would forgive him. Because I love him.
But how could I apologize for what I had done?
This was all so messed up. I am supposed to love Danny, but I know I didn’t drink enough last night to lose judgment. I slept with George because I had wanted to, and that was scary. I wanted to say I was drunk, because with George I felt things I never had before. Things I’d never experienced with Danny.
I had cheated. Cheated.
It was a dirty word; something that tramps and drunken husbands do, something for an unlovable person to do. The ultimate unforgivable sin in a relationship.
As I stumbled along, still crying, my surroundings began to seem more familiar. It was late afternoon already, and I hadn’t eaten all day. It didn’t bother me though; I was too upset to think about food.
I walked swiftly past all the shops, doing my best not to be noticed and keeping my head down.
Every man I saw looked like Danny, and every time I thought of him my heart grew a little heavier at my betrayal.
I foolishly thought I was falling in love, when in reality I hadn’t been anything close to that. I was just star struck.
George had made that clear when he said he could get any girl he wanted.
This was true. What would make me think I was anything special? There were thousands more blonde girls just like me, all waiting for famous George Harrison to take his pick from. How stupid could I be?
It was starting to get dark as I blundered around in circles, following the flow of foot traffic and not really going anywhere, lost in my self pity and misery.
An hour later-or five, I couldn’t tell how much time had passed-I found myself nearing my flat. A cab was parked out front, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.
Danny was still here.
Without thinking, I hurried up the steps and into the lobby area. On the stairs, I literally ran into a very solid person. I looked up, ready to stammer out an apologize when it caught it my throat. Danny stared at me for a few seconds, several emotions crossing his face.
We both stood there very unsure of ourselves. Guilt and sadness and everything clawed at my stomach and throat, and I found myself unable to speak. Suddenly, he dropped the suitcase he was holding and approached me slowly, wrapping me up in his arms.
I returned it half-heartedly, shame flooding my mind. “I never meant to hurt you.” He whispered. I nodded dumbly. He pulled away for a kiss, and I responded hesitantly. It was rough and bland, nothing like I wanted.
We broke apart, and he touched delicately at the corner of my eye, where the bruise had mostly faded. “I have to leave, but I’ll be back in three weeks.” He said. We shared one last kiss, and then he was gone, taking his stuff and marching out the door.
I watched him leave, without saying a word. No I love you, or, I’ll miss you, only silence.
Up in the empty flat I threw myself onto the couch. Facedown into a pillow I didn’t cry or scream or feel sorry for myself. I simply went completely numb. I erased thoughts of George and forgot about the feelings. I told myself I didn’t care.
I was going to wait here until Danny came home, and then things were going to go back to normal:
Danny travelling the world with his art.
Me working at the diner, always waiting for him to come home.
No George.
No feelings.
Nothing.