Oh, Lord have mercy on my soul
For I have walked a sinful road
So I'm gonna get down on my knees
Beg forgiveness to help set me free
Lord, have mercy on me please
--Christina Aguilera, Mercy On Me
Yanking the sheets from the bed, Corinne let out a sigh of frustration before tossing them into a pile on the floor with the rest of the laundry.
"At some point, you're going to have to start doing this for yourself Jayce," she muttered, stripping a pillow of it's case.
While her boyfriend of more than three years was technically older than she, he was younger in a lot of ways, including cleaning. He didn't do it. At all. Point blank and period, no. He shared an apartment with a friend, Ryan, and if it weren't for him and his neat freak ways the whole place would be in complete shambles. But there was one place Ryan refused to clean, and that was JC's bedroom. If Corinne didn't do it, it'd never be done. Case in point, the sheets she was currently changing. They'd slept on these sheets for two months, one more night and she'd be convinced the health department would come looking for them.
It'd been worse in the beginning. He'd leave dirty dishes on the dresser and on top of the television. Dirty underwear would have covered the floor. Now she'd somewhat trained him to at least pretend to clean up after himself. Dirty dishes were at least placed on the kitchen counter instead of the bathroom counter. Dirty clothes went in a messy pile behind the door instead of on top of the lamp shade. It certainly made her job much easier when she came in every other Saturday to play maid for him. But he still had his moments where he slipped, like with the tee shirt currently sticking out from under the bed.
Bending down, Corinne snatched up the shirt and tossed it over her shoulder into the pile before dropping to her knees. Might as well make sure he wasn't hiding anything else under there. When she lowered her head, it was dark and she couldn't make out anything. She slid a french manicured hand under the bed, feeling along the carpet for any foreign items. Her fingers brushes something and she latched onto it, pulling it out into the light.
Her pretty face contorted with confusion at the piece of clothing in her hands. A pink and black lacy bra. Maybe she'd left it here one wild night? There had been a pretty big party the weekend before. But no, this bra didn't look familiar. She didn't remember ever picking it out. Pulling out the tag, she glanced at the numbers and instantly felt anger begin to coarse through her body. It was two band sizes, and one cup size smaller than what she wore. This most definately was not her bra.
Behind her the front door jingled, and then opened.
"Baby, you will not believe the day I've had," he said, already knowing she was close by.
He could smell her lingering perfume. She always wore the same perfume, he’d know it anywhere. Keys were dropped on the kitchen counter and then footsteps made their way down the hall towards her.
"First some jerk hits me on my way to Greg's this morning, luckily he didn't do any serious damage. But still, that was an hour of drama that I did not need at 8am. And then... Corry?" He stood in the doorway of his room, watching her curiously.
She had her back to him, and was acting as if she hadn't noticed his presence at all.
"Corry, are you listening?"
His words barely registered to her as she turned to face him, revealing the bra dangling from her hand, and the less-than-pleased expression she bore. His expression changed as well, and he looked stunned, and a little frightened.
"Oh Jesus," he muttered.
"Yeah, oh Jesus. What is this Jayce? What the hell is this?!" She flung the bra into his chest. A jingle sounded through the silent room, curtosy of the bracelette on her wrist. He'd given her all the chamrs on it, rememberances of events and their time together. It also served as a cover-up for the small butterfly tattoo she'd gotten on drunken night in Mexico with him.
"Corry, listen-." He began, entering the room and closing the bedroom door behind himself.
"Do not 'Corry listen' me. Don't try to charm your way out of this. Have you been cheating? Have you been cheating on me with some flat chested hussy in the same bed you share with me?"
"Corry, I wanted to tell you-."
"When was it? Last night?"
He shook his head.
"The night before?"
He shook his head again.
"Then when? When did you decide some one night stand was worth throwing away what you had with me?"
JC swallowed hard.
"Not some one night stand."
Corinne's brow furrowed and she shrinked back.
"Not a one night stand? Not one time? You've been having an affair?"
JC didn't respond.
"How many times? How long?"
He shrugged with guilt, "Two, three months maybe."
"Well, you have to end it. You have to end it right now." Her body shook, nerves on end.
JC's head lowered, and he took a step towards her.
"Corinne, I'm not going to end it," he said softly.
"What?"
"I'm not going to end it. I don’t want to end it."
Corinne stepped back from him when he came closer. Her eyes searching the room wildly as they glazed over with fresh tears. Not ending the affair?
“You can’t have us both.” She said.
JC nodded, acknowledging that fact.
Again, Corinne looked confused and her forehead crinkled.
"Are you breaking up with me?" She whimpered.
JC ran a hand over his head, again moving towards her slowly.
"I've been wanting to tell you for awhile...."
"No."
"Things between us haven't been going right. And I met this woman, in a bar..."
"No."
"...I didn't know what to say to you...."
"Stop it." She put her hands over her ears, turning her back to him again.
"...I didn't want to hurt you."
"You didn't want to hurt me?!" She whirled around, her eyes landed on him, wild with fire. "Well you sure did a great job of that Jayce."
He didn't have anything to say. Silence was her answer.
"Is this for real?" She chuckled bitterly. "After everything? After three and a half years, this is how you're going to end things? This is how you're going to say goodbye to me? This is what I get? We’re standing here, holding a fucking bra, that I found on a Saturday afternoon, while I was cleaning your room!"
Again, she recieved silence.
“Who is she?"
JC shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
"She's ruining my relationship and all the plans we had for our future. I think I deserve to atleast know her name."
Relunctantly he whispered it.
"Diana."
Corinne's eyes rolled. Ofcourse. It was always a Diana, wasn't it? In every tragic love story, there was a Diana close-by. Overwhelmed with the emotions she began to feel, the tears began to fall freely. She'd held them back before, but she wasn't able to anymore. Now they streamed down her cheeks like rivers. Rivers that blurred her vision and rocked her body.
Overwhelmed with guilt and left-over love for her, JC wanted to console her. He wanted to relieve some of the pain, even though he was the cause of it all. He put his arms around her, offering his shoulder. For a moment she was too wrapped up in her pain to realize, but when she became aware of who was holding her, she twisted wildly, wrenching herself from his grasp.
"Let go of me!" She hollared, "Don't do that. Don't try to make it okay. Do not pity me. I don't need your pity, or her pity. I don't need or want anything from you."
"It's not pity, Corinne. I-."
"Just shut up." She'd heard enough of his explanation. There'd been enough explaining for one day.
Shoving past him, Corinne stormed toward the door, stumbling over the pile of laundry she'd gathered in the middle of the floor.
"Corry, I'm sorry," he said, his arms dropping to his sides.
"Sorry?" Corry questioned, turning to look back at him one last time. "I bet you're sorry. I do, I bet you are. But you know what, I bet you're not as sorry as you're going to be. Oh no. You've got a lot more sorry left to be. When you realize what you've just done, and all that you've given up. When you realize that Diana is just some fly-by night who's looking at you like the flavor of the week. When you see all of the shit I do for you, that I know she won't. When you realize that there is no other woman who loved you more than I did up until a minute ago. When you're sitting here in your filthy room, all alone, that's when you'll really be sorry. But you know who is the sorriest of us all? Me. I'm the sorry one. I'm sorry I ever met you."
And with those final words, she threw open the door and stormed out, slamming it shut behind her. He heard her shoes on the floor in the hall, swiftly making their way towards the kitchen, and then a moment later the front door opened and them slammed closed with a shutter that rocked the entire building.
Perhaps both emotionally bruised and covered in defeat, JC sank down onto the mattress and rested his head in his hands.
"I can't believe he dumped you like that. Lying jerk," Sandy hissed.
After storming out of JC's apartment, Corinne had headed home to the apartment she shared with her three bestfriends, Sandy, Tami, and Katrina. She could think of no better place to cry and lick her wounds.
"I know! After everything that's gone on between us." Corry sat on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest.
"After you stuck with him while he was unemployed," Katrina joined in, handing Corinne another tissue.
"And when he got into trouble and got himself arrested, who got him the bail money?"
"Not Diana," Corinne snarled. "I can't believe he did this to me. After three years."
Tami rolled her eyes from her seat on the leather chair acrossed from them. She'd heard enough of this crap.
"All right, enough of this crying and boo-hooing. Leave the whinning to those pathetic women who can't get anyone else. We are strong, attractive, independant females, and we don't have time for this. You know what we’re going to do?" Tami stood from her seat. "We're going to have a party."
The three women paused and looked up at her.
"Huh?"
"That's right, a party. Girl, if he wants to let out the dog in him, let that jerk howl all he wants. But we are not going to sit here and mope around over him, that's exactly what he wants you to do."
"You think?" Corinne raised her head from her knees.
"I know," Tami said. "That's what men do. They break your heart so they can brag to their friends about how there's some pretty girl crying her eyes out cause he whipped it on her so good and then took it away. Instead of sitting here singing sappy songs, we're going to live it up. We're gonna get some fine ass boys, and some bottles, and have us a night that none of us will be able to remember tomorrow."
"Yeah! You know what Tami? You're right," Corinne nodded. "Let's have a party. He thinks I'm going to sit here all night worrying about him, no way."
"Wait," Katrina stood up as well. "Do you really think that's a good idea? I mean, this did just happen like two hours ago-."
"So what? That's means I've been wasting the last two hours. I'm gonna put him behind me and have a new man so fast it'll make his head spin."
Tami offered Corinne a high-five. Sandy and Katrina exchanged weary looks.
Less than an hour later, Corinne's 'Congratulations on Being Single' party was in full swing. The large apartment was filled with people, music blaring out of the living room sound system. Tami was in the kitchen, creating new drinks from the various bottles of rum, tequila, vodka, Moutain Dew, apple cider, and Pepsi. Behind her, on the counter near the refridgerator, sat three cases of beer, one Bud, one Bud light, and one Corona.
Next to her, Sandy was guzzling down a glass of apple cider and Malibu.
"Damn this shit was a good idea," she said before letting out a belch.
"I told you. Best way to get over a man is to get drunk, get rowdy, and get on with your life." Tami smiled, pouring ice into a blender.
"What up, what up?! Jeff is here, let the party begin."
The front door swung open and hit the wall with a bang as Jeff Porter came strolling in, followed by three of his friends, Kevin, Nick, and Sean. Each stood about six feet tall, except for Sean who was around five-seven. Jeff had brown eyes, brown hair, and a sturdy frame from his days as a blocker on the high school and community college football teams. He was known for turning modest game nights into wild shin-digs with his vast love of alcohol and never ending supply of marijuana.
"Jeff, my favorite white boy! It's about damn time," Tami smiled.
Jeff strolled over to her, leaning down to hug her with a smile.
"You knew I'd be here."
"Fo sho. But you know this party isn’t free, everyone has to contribute. What'd you bring?"
Jeff reached into the side of his thick black peacoat and pulled out a brown paper bag. He dropped the bag onto the floor, revealing a bottle of Captain Morgan's Black Tattoo Rum. Katrina practically squeeled from her seat on the sofa.
"I love that stuff. Mix it with some Cherry coke, it's sooo good. Gimme!"
She reached for it, and Jeff held it over her head.
"Tsk tsk," he shook his head. "Ya'll look straight to me," he motioned to the various bottles in the kitchen. "This is for the single girl. Where is she?"
"On the balcony."
Jeff withdrew from them, heading for the sliding glass doors, his friend Kevin following. Nick and Sean stayed behind, smiling down at Sandy and Katrina.
"Hey," Tami interupted. "Put your tongues back in your mouths. Can I get you something to drink?"
Out on the blacony, Corinne sat in a plastic chair, her feet proped up on the railing. Her brown hair blew in the slight breeze around her as the rain poured down from the sky. It always seemed to rain when she was sad. Thick, angry gray clouds appeared at her will, opening up and releasing millions of little droplets of water to camoflauge her tears.
"What's up shorty?" A voice sounded.
She turned to find Jeff smiling back, and sat up.
"Nothing much." She said, offering a hug. "How's it going? Who's this?"
"It's going good. This is my homeboy, Kevin."
"Hi."
"Hey," he gave a nervous wave. He looked all of 18 years old.
"Heard about your recent misfortune and decided to bring you a present." He offered her the bottle.
She inspected the label and wrinkled her nose.
"No thanks. I'm good," she nodded towards a glass sitting on the railing, barely hidden from the raindrops.
"What is it?"
"Malibu."
"Forget that shit," Jeff shook his head. "This right here is gonna put you on your ass."
"That good huh?" Corinne took the bottle and unscrewed the cap. She took a whiff, and then held the bottle away as she coughed.
"Damn."
"Told you. This shit is good."
"What do you mix it with?"
Jeff shook his head again. "You don't need a mixer, you can drink this straight."
Corinne gave him a look. "Atleast give me a chaser."
"You don't need it," he said. "It's sweet."
Corinne's eyes rolled dramatically. It didn't smell sweet.
"Especially, when you're sipping it with a little bit of this," he held up a small ziplock bag.
"Oh man, you always come prepared, don't you?" She took the bag from him and began to inspect it in the moonlight.
"You know it, Jeff keeps the party going."
"But Tami gets it started. Right?"
They looked to the doorway as Tami gave Jeff a cocky smirk.
"What's this stuff in here? These crystal things?" Corinne asked, still looking over the stash of weed in her hands.
"PCP."
"Huh?" She wasn't big into illegal substances, her drug lingo was alittle outdated.
"Angeldust."
"Angeldust? Uh-uh, no way Jeff." She handed it back to him.
"Come on."
“Do you know what that stuff will do to me?"
Her tolerance level was very low. One puff and she'd probably be trying to fly off the roof with a towel and safety pin as her cape.
"Come on girl, it's a party, you're supposed to get fucked up. I promise we won't let you get too rowdy."
Corinne chuckled, shaking her head.
"You don't want me to be able to remember anything tomorrow, do you?"
"That's the idea."
She chuckled, moving her eyes to Kevin. He'd been silent the entire time, standing there like a statue.
"Are you even old enough to party?" She questioned.
Kevin smirked.
"As long as you don't tell anyone."
"...Cause I never really knew my Mom. She wasn't around much when I was a kid. She went to Arizona with some boyfriend and left me with my Dad. Things were good with my Dad. We got along really well. He died when I was 13 though. Had a major heartattack one night. My Mom moved back down here after that, and I had to live with her. I moved out of there when I was 17. I hated her new husband. He was such a dick. One time he was yelling at her, and she was crying, and I started yelling at him, telling him to leave my Mom alone. Me and him start arguing and he comes at me, so I picked up the nearest thing I could find, this plate on the dining room table. Hit him in the face with it, blood flew everywhere. See that scar right there? On the side of my finger? Got a piece of it stuck in my hand when it shattered. I spent a week in juvenile hall for it. He deserved it, fucker. That's why I moved out, couldn't take it anymore. Found this guy looking for a room mate. I pay two-hundred bucks a month. It's cool... I work in a cheese factory. Making cheeses, you know? It's pretty good money, ten an hour. Plus, everyday we do one order, so we usually get overtime because we can't leave till the order is done. And I'm putting myself through school."
Corinne nodded, though her mind wasn't paying any attention. Kevin had been sitting next to her on the sofa, going on and on with his life story for the past half hour. Everyone around them was spread out along the floor, several snoring, a few barely hanging onto conciousness. Corinne's mind was hazy from the Tattoo rum enduced fog. She'd kept the bottle to herself, gagging at first when the liquid slipped down her throat, but soon developing a taste for it. Jeff had also forced her into the bathroom with he, Kevin, Nick, Sean, and Tami as they passed the several blunts Jeff had rolled. They chose the bathroom over the balcony because the smoke would blow away to quickly in the heavy winds from the rain. Needless to say, everything for her was blur, except for the man sitting infront of her.
He was tall, with dark brown hair that occassionally fell into his eyes. He wore a polo shirt, his biceps exposed. His arms were well developed. He probably snowboarded or surfed. That's what most people around here did. He was pretty. Really pretty, in this innocent dorky-preppy school boy sort of way. She wished JC would surf with her sometime. She wished she hadn't run out of rum. She wished Kevin would shut the fuck up.
Sitting up, she put her hands on his arms, halting his speech. Smiling, her face, dangerously close to his, she licked her lips.
"You talk to much. Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?”
He gave her that cute smirk again.
“Yeah. I do that when I’m nervous.”
Her eyebrow raised curiously.
“What are you nervous about?”
His brown eyes stared back at her, searching her face for something unknown.
“You.”
Confused, Corinne asked, “why?”
His answer was physical, rather than verbal. He leaned forward, touching his lips to hers, his tongue briefly running along the inner rim of her bottom lip. Corinne pulled away, her body rigid as if startled. What was going on here? She barely knew this guy, and was just barely beginning the process of getting over a long time love. But he was so cute, and seemed like a really nice guy. What was happening? Everything in her mind said, “this is a bad idea” but everything in her body told her it was okay when he leaned in to kiss her again.
His lips touched hers, and when she kissed him back he took that as his green light. Fingertips slipped up the back of her shirt, deliciously pressing into her skin. His breathe tasted like the alcohol she’d consumed and she knew he was just as intoxicated as she was. And still a baby at only nineteen years old. His mouth trailed down her neck, leaving hot wet kisses on her skin. Her hands wove into his hair, pressing his lips closer. Masculine hands gripped her behind, grinding her body against his. Her hands slipped between them, rubbing against the strain in his jeans, and he let out a low growl. All of the pain JC had caused her was diluted, and everything was okay. Everything felt good, and she felt good. She felt wanted, needed, and appreciated.
Not a word was spoken as Kevin lifted them both from the couch. He effortlessly pulled her up with him, holding her body to his as he headed for the hallway. He had to be a surfer. He wandered blindly, his mind still occupied with her body as he searched for a room to take her too. Any room, and the door he picked happened to be Katrina’s. But Katrina had disappeared with Sean hours ago.
“No, no. That one, other there.” Corinne pointed farther down the hall, to her own room.
Kevin followed instructions, slightly stumbling to the door. Corinne’s hand left his body long enough to turn the doorknob, and then they stumbling inside, eventually landing on the bed. Clothing was quickly shed, his hand inside of her pants as his mouth moved to her breasts. At some point one of them pulled the blankets up, shielding their bodies from the cold air. Everything happened to quickly, and their minds such a haze, that she barely noticed when he laid between her bare thighs and joined his body with hers. But as he moved, her fingers tugged at his hair and one hand held onto his hip. He was bigger than JC, speaking in terms of body mass. Not overweight by any means, but his frame was larger. His body fit against her differently.
Outside, the rain hadn’t let up at all, and JC wished he’d thought about this long enough to think to bring an umbrella. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and hurried toward the door of Corinne’s apartment building. Over and over his brain was trying to think of the right thing to say, the right words that needed to be spoken to express his regret in the decision he'd made. Plagued by the lingering scent of her perfume in his apartment, JC realized that Diana was not at all what he'd wanted, he'd simply made a big mistake.
His long legs quickly took him up the stairs to the third floor, and he headed straight for her front door. He wasn’t at all apprehensive about using his key to open the door, even though it was well after 4am and he most likely wasn’t not going to be welcomed with open arms. Inside it was dark, and quiet. His eyes adjusted, and he made out the outline of bodies on the floor, and empty bottles cluttering the table. The stench of alcohol and weed lingered in every corner. Someone had had a party, a big one.
He stepped over people carefully, looking for anyone resembling his girlfriend’s --ex-girlfriend’s-- figure. When he didn’t see her, he started down the hall, wondering if maybe she’d had the good sense to lay down in her bed before she passed out. Or maybe she’d been too upset to even enjoy the party, and spent the night in her room.
His shoes squeeked softly on the floors as he slowly slipped down the hallway. He didn't want to wake everyone, he just wanted to find her.
When JC neared her door his ears perked up. There were noises, heavy breathing and soft mousy squeeks. Turning the corner, he saw her laying there in the bed he’d once shared with her. He knew it was her, by the silver charm bracelette and small tattoo on the wrist of the arm holding the man close. He knew it was her by the smell, a tropical mixture of coconut, banana, and mango. He knew it was her as he listened to her noises, noises she used to make for him when they were trying to be quiet but it was too good not to express.
They hadn’t even bothered to close the door before they went at it. JC could feel his chest tighten, the heart inside bursting into a million pieces. His fists balled with rage, fury flashing in his eyes. But as upset as he was, he couldn't bring his body to move. He couldn't make himself enter, he couldn't make himself run. All he could do was stand there, shadowed in the darkness.
He watched as the man on top of her kissed her deeply to muffle her breaths as he penetrated her over and over again. He watched as her nails left white and red lines down the strangers tanned spine. He looked on as her back arched, lifting from the sheets, and he stared as the brunette man braced one of his hands on the wall above her head. He stood there and watched as she made love to someone else without any hesitation, his presense going completely unnoticed.
When he couldn’t take it anymore, he contemplated storming in, turning on the light, beating this mystery man until he was unrecognisable, and letting her have a piece or two of his mind. He didn’t though. He didn’t do anything. He slithered back the way he’d come, his wet shoes leaving slick footprints on the floor as he headed out the door and back into the rain. Suppose in some way he deserved it. He’d done it her, and now he knew how it felt.
When you commit a sin, it comes back around.
Email: Coffee