Page 59 of Falling for the Wife

CHAPTER21

Gisele

My somber life dragged on.Each passing day, I was starkly reminded of his absence. I’d since halted my relationship with Wyatt, blaming confusion and whatever love sick excuse I could conjure up. Someday soon, I had to divulge my secret to him. Maybe then he’d understand where I was truly coming from. But until then, I was keeping him at a distance.

The parties had been kept to a minimum. Although, on occasion, I still went with my two best ladies when I was in dire need of a confidence boost.

It was right after the first grueling week that I found myself inspired to hire a personal trainer to help me tone my body even more. I was fit, but I needed an excuse to exert more of my anger towards something productive rather than piercing a hole through the bottom of an ice cream carton. I knew I had hit rock bottom when I was almost in tears as I kept scraping off the carton when I ran out of ice cream to shove into my mouth. Leslie, my trainer, and I trained seven days a week at dusk, be it at the gym or outdoors. Enduring the body aches and pains after the first few days was grueling. But I resorted to welcoming the excruciating way the workouts pulled at my sore muscles and the slow agonizing burn of my body being stretched to its limits. In the beginning, it had been a shock, but as the days wore on, I began to appreciate this newfound outlet. It sure had lessened my time dwelling about him. For that, I was beyond gratified.

Speaking of which, Jared never had gotten back to me. My thank you text went unanswered as did my call. Of course, this was expected, but still, it injured me all the same.

His memory still pained me, but with my mind constantly preoccupied with other activities, the ache in my heart had certainly reduced.

Grateful for school to occupy most of my days, Ginny, my research partner, had been a refreshing addition to my life. She equally possessed and balanced a zest for life and her beleaguered tantrums. One moment, she’d rage on about free speech, green energy, World War II conspiracy theories, then the next, she’d be muttering about her chubby fingers and persistent chin acne. Up and down, she went. And at times, I’d entertain her craziness, but most of the time I tried in earnest to boost her up. I even went to great lengths to enroll us in some uplifting yoga, but after the first initial try, she immediately called it quits.

“For real. The only time I’ll willingly bend over is for sex, nothing else,” she exclaimed as she popped a can of soda open, delightfully riddled with her favorite toxins and carcinogens.

Cocking my head to the side, I threw her an admonishing look. “For someone so unhappy with her body, you sure do love your sodas.”

We were at a stop light. My body felt great after an hour of meditation and stretching.

She took a few gulps before poking her tongue out, showcasing her piercing before madly grinning at me. “I only need five things in life. Mexican food. Sex. Computer. Jellybeans. High-speed internet connection. Take any of those necessities, and I’m going to commit first-degree murder.”

“You’re hopeless,” I said, shaking my head, amused.

“You should know that by now, webby.” She audaciously raised her soda can, pleased with herself. “Cheers to the wonderful bullshit.”

It couldn’t be helped; I had to laugh. She was as endearing as she was outrageous. Not to mention brilliantly amazing, too. Apparently, my father was one of her heroes. She’d shyly admitted this one night when we were going over data analysis for dwindling depths in human interaction due to technology and vice versa.

A week later, I was in the coffee shop where Ginny worked at when Blair and Vivienne joined us. This was our go-to Monday and Wednesday spot. Not only was it cozy and relaxed, but the coffee they served hit your bloodstream like crack would (Ginny’s own words). It also didn’t hurt that they made orgasm-inducing carrot cake bars.

“Hi, bitches,” Ginny greeted them as they sat across from me on the exhausted mahogany leather chairs. “Same old, same old?” She referred to their unvarying orders—a cappuccino for Vivienne and a quad shot caramel macchiato for Blair.

Blair wryly smirked. “Ah, Ginny. You always know how to put me in the mood,” she replied with her usual sarcastic nonchalance.

“Yes, for me, babes,” Vivienne added before she gave Ginny a quick embrace. “Any progress with ‘Sir Lancelot’?”

“I’ll tell you all about it once I finish up,” she rapidly responded before scurrying back to the coffee bar.

Vivienne referred to the man Ginny had been conversing with on an online dating site. They’d been corresponding for the past weeks, and apparently, they were ready to meet up. Blair was against it altogether. Vivienne, so-so. Me, well, I was gunning for her to meet someone. Ginny, quirks and all, was a full-fledged sweetheart through and through. One simply had to delve deeper beneath the bitchy exterior. Her life hadn’t been easy. But even amidst the inexorable challenges she faced after being brought up in a crack house, her smarts got her a scholarship in one of the world’s leading schools. How many people would’ve survived the way she had? It was beyond admirable, and what amazed me the most was her gentle soul, tenacity, and unyielding perseverance to succeed and graduate. And getting her dream job with one of the top developers in Silicon Valley certainly was inspirational.

Her story motivated me to become a better individual who was appreciative of the blessing my parents had provided for me.

I, for one, was beyond proud of Ginny. Not everyone had the guts to go after their dreams when one was surrounded with all the ill-gotten ugliness life bestowed on her doorstep. And yet here was my friend, against all odds, pursuing her wildest dreams. How could anyone not admire her tenacity? I was in awe of her. However, I hadn’t disclosed such a fun fact because the woman already had a bloated ego when it came to her astute ingenuity.

“You really should stop advocating this nonsense with this random guy. What if he turns out to be a certified psycho? Online sites are pooled with megalomaniacs, sociopaths, closeted gays, cheaters aiming for a quick shag, STD-ridden one-night standers, and unfortunately, schizoids preying on vulnerable women. Our dear Ginny fits the last bill,” Blair brashly said, accusingly addressing me.

“My, aren’t you the lively pessimist,” Vienne interposed, contemptuous before glancing in my direction. “Don’t mind her, babes. She’s just jealous everyone’s getting laid except her cold heartless vag.”

I ought to have laughed. It was hilarity at its finest, but I couldn’t even crack a smile. Blair had the knack to simply push past safe boundaries. It was the way she delivered it. It was as if I was already at fault. Her condemning tone grated on me.

“What’s wrong with encouraging someone who deserves all the love and happiness in the world, Blair? Is that such a disgusting crime to you? Ginny’s been through so much that none of our cossetted selves could ever envision or comprehend. She doesn’t have friends. We’re the only ones she has. So how can we not encourage something positive happening in her life? Whatever we think or feel isn’t important. We’re here to support her, guide her, be a friend. Besides, she likes him, and I concur the sentiment is mutual. They’ll meet, and if it turns out to be anticlimactic, then she’ll move on to the next whenever or to whomever it may be. Plain and simple. It’s not that serious, Blair.”

The raven beauty merely shrugged, still cynical.

I let out an exasperated sigh, leaning against the chair. “You need to lighten the fuck up. What’s seriously bothering you, Blair? I mean, you’ve always been catty, but this—it’s gotten to the point of ridiculous. It’s frustrating, and I’m trying my damnedest not to take offense each time you brusquely smack me with your colorful bitchiness of the day.”

“I second that,” Vivienne butted in, cracking a smile. “We love you, babes. But what’s your deal? You’ve bottled it up too long, and you’re cracking.”