Continues from here.
It had been six long weeks since I saw him, he hadn’t even been bringing the kids in on the weekends. Don’t for a second get me wrong I still longed for him, longed for his touch, longed for his warmth and above all longed for his company, I’d exposed a wound that was not really healing. But as much as I had all that longing I still didn’t regret my choice to set him free because despite the longing I still refused to be the other woman and always would. I couldn’t even bring myself to be that woman in a loveless marriage of convenience.
Although he claimed to have no options the fact was Simon did have them if he wanted to keep seeing me. Sure those options meant breaking up his family and no one should do that without careful consideration but he still had choices. I know that’s easy for me to say as I sit here watching the logs burn in my fireplace but it doesn’t mean it’s any less true. The problem was that he didn’t want to see those options not matter how good or bad they were.
For the first 2 weeks I’m sad to say I pined for the guy, so much so that Sonya actually sent me home from work and told me not to come back until I’d stopped. I’m not sure she expected me to take three days off but she coped, and I gave her a bonus in her last pay-check to help the coping process. The thing is for that first two weeks everything was so darn raw, the memories were so vivid I almost thought I could reach out and touch them. I could still smell his scent as I walked into a room whether it was one he’d been on or not. In the dead of night as I lay awake in my bed I could even hear his pants as he got closer to climax and I felt darn sure I could still feel him inside me. Of course I know none of that was right, it was just me pining for something I couldn’t have, but it didn’t change what my mind was telling me.
During the third and fourth weeks I did begin to feel better, I still missed him but I had stopped feeling him inside me when I lay in bed. I could still smell his scent, in the bed beside me although that could be because I refused to wash the pillow slip that his head had rested on while we made love in my bed.
Despite the fact that Simon only ever brought his kids into the cafe on the weekend I still found myself looking up from the counter with anticipation every time I heard kids entering the place during this time as well. But perhaps the worst thing of all was that I found myself walking past the Music Barn on my way home from work. Doing so actually added nearly ten minutes to my walk home and meant I couldn’t walk part of the way with Sonya, but I’d sub consciously started doing it on the second day of the third week and continued every day into the fourth. Thankfully, I think, I didn’t once see Simon as I walked past the shop and I still don’t know what I’d have done if I did.
During the fifth and sixth weeks things really did start getting easier. I stopped talking the long way home and began walking part way with Sonya again, something she was happy for because while she knew why I was taking the long way and disagreed she said nothing. I stopped looking up in anticipation when kids came into the cafe and I’m sure I even stopped thinking about the guy for at least eight hours of the day. I didn’t stop smelling him though because I still stupidly refused to wash that pillow slip, damn I may never wash it again! Don’t get me wrong I’m not some kind of weird desperado the pillow doesn’t come with me everywhere I go, I just lay next to it at night. That’s not weird is it?
“Another dead soldier!” I said to the empty room, not embarrassed by the fact that I was talking to no one, as I place the empty bottle of beer onto the table beside my lounge chair.
Pushing myself out of the chair with the intention of going to the fridge and getting another beer I was barely on my feet when I heard the doorbell ring. Wondering who it could be at dinner time on a Sunday night I slid my feet into my fluffy slippers and wandered towards the front door. I remembered what had happened last time someone rang the door bell and I didn’t check the peep hole and although I was fairly confident the same psychotic person would not be at that door ringing my bell on a Sunday night I still didn’t make the same mistake.
As I got to the door I stepped up to the peep hole and looked through it, the evening was getting dark but I could easily make out the figure standing on my unlit doorstep. My heart skipped a beat and my legs turned weak, but somehow they still held me up. Standing on the other side of my front door was Simon, the guy I’d been trying so hard to forget.
I paused for a moment wondering what to do. If I let him in the potential to open wounds that were slowly healing was great, however my parting words to him had been that I’d still be waiting If he ever made up his mind what he wanted to so. Thinking seems to take forever but I guess in real time the decision didn’t take long because there was no second ring of the door bell before I was reaching for the knob and twisting it to open the door.
“What can I do for you Simon?” I asked deliberately being blunt and not giving him a chance to say anything.
“I miss you Kat.” He said in a sad and quiet voice.
I quickly interrupted him, seeing him for the first time in six weeks had ignited more than a few fires inside me but I had my reasons and there was no way I was going to let him talk my hormones into something my brain didn’t want.
“Simon I’ve told you I can’t do this. I’m sorry!” I was inches away from swinging the door closed when he spoke.
“Hear me out Kat! Please! Things have changed.”
I stopped, I still held the door in a position to swing it shut, but I stopped as I wondered what I should do, shut the door, hear him out, or give into my raging hormones.