My Boyfriend's Wife
“He wanted to keep me, and I wanted to be kept.”
- Rosie
an original fictional short story by candy washington
this was first published in ‘coffee, wine, and words magazine’
I nervously picked at the peeling light pink nail polish on my thumbnail while twiddling my fingers together in the back of my Lyft ride.
Quietly, I cursed myself for not getting my nails touched up and I wondered if he would notice.
I was on my way to my first ever blind date, which was early cocktails and dinner at a cute French bistro in the meatpacking district, and my stomach was humming to me, threatening to spill out its contents of my green smoothie and kale salad.
My friend Tess had set us up. He was an acquaintance that she had met on the golf course, and I was her best friend since grad school.
I soothed myself by lightly rubbing my tummy and thinking back to the morning that had led to my belly being full of greens. My roommate, who had had enough of me crying into pints of Häagen-Dazs while watching old episodes of Sex and the City on repeat, had started dragging me to her early Saturday morning yoga class to clear out my chakras and align my romantic energy. After each class, we always went out for smoothies and salads with a couple of our downward dog girls.
What had started out as us gushing about boys, work, and the latest issue of Us Weekly, had quickly become a haven for us to vent about the secret little vulnerabilities that we were desperately trying to hide through new outfits, flat abs, chic haircuts, and endless bottles of Rosé.
Alyssa, who was slightly older than the rest of us, had a particularly jarring tale of having been shuffled around by her husband for over a decade. Like the dutiful wife that she was, she had supported him for years while he got his tech start-up off of the ground. And like the cliché middle-aged man that he was, he one day, very calmly, looked her in the eye and told her that he needed to sleep with other people.
She had resisted and fought, trying to keep the web of her fragile marriage from coming undone. But her efforts were in vain as he dangled one meaningless tryst after another in her face without regard to the years of life lived between them.
We had cheered her on as she started having one-night stands but it was clear that her heart wasn't in it and it was just her way of trying to get his attention and to even the score. We referred to him as, “The Huzzband,” which we said with a snarky snarl. She'd report back to us his latest antics each Saturday morning and we'd all revel in the latest updates while secretly being grateful that it wasn't happening to us.
But now, I couldn't believe that my body was trying to betray me as my mind had finally resolved to move on from the fact that my asshole ex-boyfriend was now engaged to my former best friend. I had thought that I had been ready to drain the moat that had surrounded my heart, but perhaps I was not. That’s also why Tess was so eager to set me up and my roommate was peeling me off of the couch. It was time to heal.
As I poured myself out of the Lyft and oozed into the restaurant, I secretly slid into the bathroom to reapply my glossy nude lipstick and freshen up with a few spritzes of my floral-scented body spray before making my way to the table where he was already waiting.
He looked a bit older than his photo and thinner than I had imagined, and when he rose to greet me and gave me gentle hug, I felt my stomach settle as I breathed him in. He smelled like the ocean and I instantly felt at home.
He whispered, “Nice to finally meet you, Rosie,” into my ear and it tickled throughout every crevice of my body.
“Nice to finally meet you, Richard,” I heard myself echo back.
My lips parted into a crooked smile as I laughed at his jokes in-between bites of our shared appetizers and sips of Merlot. I couldn't believe how nervous I had been this morning about my impending rendezvous.
Did all first dates always go like this? I hadn't been on one in years and I hoped that when he looked at me, he didn't see the trembling little girl that laid inside. I had wished that he only saw the cool, calm, and collected woman that was in front of him, meticulously slicing her medium-well steak.
But when his fingers gently grazed mine as we both reached for more wine, and our eyes locked, I knew that he had seen both, and both, had been enough.
The hours passed, then the days, and then the months, and our first little blind date had evolved into our little world of love and lust as I rarely left his modern and sleek apartment and he rarely wanted me to leave.
Throughout getting to know each other, he had explained that he had moved into this apartment, which was pristine with stainless steel and clean lines. His apartment would have been cold if it weren't for the heat being generated by our passion. He had casually slipped it in that his wife lived in their house not too far away with their six-year-old son that they shared between them.
When the word, “wife,” had hit my ears I felt the core of my stomach harden as it formed a pit of denial. Why wasn't he divorced yet? Should I even be here? Clouds of confusion swam throughout my mind and he could feel my once warm embrace grow cold.
He eased my concerns with stories of his wife's sexual escapades of her own and how they were more like brother and sister than husband and wife. The divorce was coming, but you know, these things can be messy, and they can take time. According to him, we weren't doing anything wrong. He wanted to keep me and I wanted to be kept.
I desired him more than I desired the truth, and it was this yearning, this neediness, to be wanted, to be kept, and to belong to someone other than myself that allowed me to quiet the loud whispers of doubt buzzing throughout me. So I kept swimming in the sea of me and him.
It was a hazy morning, with streaks of yellow-gray sun peeking through the dark clouds, silently nudging me awake as I was sleeping in while he went out to get our usual coffee and bagels. I heard a light knock at the door and I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not but I wrapped my naked body in the silk sheets and answered it's call.
When I peeled back the heavy door, there staring back at me was the glowing face of Alyssa. We both looked at each other in disbelief and I felt a hot flash of anger cross my face as I heard the words, “Your my boyfriend's wife?” dance out of my mouth.
It was as though we were looking in a mirror, as two women sharing the same lie, “He belongs to me.” But the truth was that Richard belonged to no one and neither of us truly belonged to him. Once the blood started to flow again throughout my veins the only thing on my mind was revenge and with the sun reflecting off of Alyssa's eyes, I could tell she felt the same.
Now, ever-connected, we were two women, with a choice. As I heard his familiar footsteps approaching the hallway, I wrapped Alyssa in my silken arms while ushering her inside and we both knew what would come next...
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