Page 24 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
An older version of me, but me nevertheless.
Except she isn’t, because John doesn’t have sex with me without a condom on. He doesn’t close his eyes and clench his fists when he’s inside of me. He doesn’t reverently whisper the word “baby” over and over again in my ear.
This version of John before me is foreign. He’s worshipping this woman. He’s savoring the feel and taste of her, entering her slowly and clutching her body against his like any inch of space between their bodies is an inch too many. And I swear, that look on his face—one that is so unfamiliar to me—might just be love.
I recognize this for what it is immediately.
I’m the replacement.
I’m the woman John calls when he can’t have this woman. Whatever history these two have, I’m nothing in comparison. She’s the woman he wants when he’s with me. She’s the reason why he likes me, and she’s the reason why he doesn’t.
And I know, without a doubt, that I’ll never get a ring on my left finger.
Not when that ring belongs on her.
My first thought is Mina.
Oh, God, Mina.
I’m homeless after this week. I have nowhere to live. A million questions fly through my head. What will this mean for Mina? What will this mean for us? How will I get my baby sister back if I can’t find neither a job nor a place to live?
I feel like I’ve failed my sister, and all the stupid hope I’ve gathered from my last visit with her extinguishes under the suffocating weight of my incompetence.
But my second thought is good for John.
Because as much as I hate him for this, I can’t hate him for feeling something for someone else.
I can hate him for
destroying my chances of earning custody of Mina. I can hate him for leading me on. I can hate him for screwing another woman behind my back.
Or was I behind her back?
I don’t know.
But either way, I can’t hate him for loving her.
The wistful looks he would send my way while we were together, I mistook for infatuation. Now, I know better. They weren’t for me. He wanted her, and he settled for me. That’s where those looks came from.
I was stupid and arrogant and naïve, thinking that I could waltz into his life and it would be so simple. He’s lived far longer than I have, and that affords him more credit than I’ve ever given him.
And the only thing left to do now is move on.
I’ve been in the room for less than sixty seconds, and they’ve been too wrapped up in one another to notice me. So, I slowly back out of the door, focusing my efforts on remaining quiet. On keeping my steps light and my heartbreak silent.
Because if I think of anything else, if I focus on the direness of my situation, the frustration that I’ve struggled to hold at bay for the last four years will overwhelm me.
However, as I slip past the kitchen and notice that woman’s phone on the counter, wrapped in a bright neon green case, the same ridiculous shade of neon green Mina insists is her favorite color, I can’t stop the frustration that engulfs me.
But as soon as it comes, it’s gone.
Because it’s hard to feel anger right now when all my body can process is sadness.
Chapter Ten
The weak can never
forgive. Forgiveness is
