Page 183
Story: Lost in Love
Madison laughs casually, but there’s a good amount of hesitation in the laugh. Her eyes dart from mine to Thomas. I watch her face closely, every single emotion that dances behind her eyes.
Do you see me there? Muscles and jaw tensed like I’m about to lose it? I feel like a can of soda that’s been shaken constantly, and I’m about ready to explode. You know that feeling right before you vomit where you break out into a cold sweat and your heart starts pounding?
That’s me right now.
“Are you checking in?” a voice behind me asks.
Go to hell.
I catch a man’s stare behind me. “Oh, yeah.” I reach for my wallet, and I want to toss it behind me and tell him to take care of everything because I don’t want to miss anything Thomas has to say to Madison or vice versa.
Thomas is smiling like he’s been given a gift, a second chance. No fucking way.
“Mr. Cooper?”
Goddamn it.
With a heavy sigh, I turn around to hand the hotel clerk my credit card and attempt to hear what they’re saying behind me.
They chat. Simple things like, how are you? Got any kids? What are you doing here?
I’m okay with that part.
It’s when he says, “So what made you guys come to Sahara? Are you having troubles?”
Say no. For the love of God, SAY NO, MADISON!
Sahara Resort is advertised as a couples retreat. A place where you can come to get away and fall in love again. If we’re here, it’s clear we’re having some sort of martial issue, right?
And I hate, absolutelyhate, that her ex-boyfriend is asking this. You never ever want the ex to know there are problems.
“Well,” she looks at me, probably waiting for me to say something, “we just needed to get away for the weekend.” She pauses, my heart evens out, but then she crushes my soul with, “Remember why we’re together.”
Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a big deal. There’s nothing wrong with needing to remember, right?
Wrong. This is a jab at me that I’m not doing my job. I know this and guess what? Thomas knows now.
He nods as though he’s agreeing, but inside he’s grinning like a fool.
Have you ever heard of cape buffalo? They’re in Africa. Anyway, the male bulls have to fight their way high enough up the dominance hierarchy to secure his opportunity to mate. Do you hear that? Eight years. We’ve been married for eight years. I’d be damned if this guy or any other guy for that matter would take my place in the hierarchy.
I grab my wife’s hand. “All checked in. Let’s go.” And I practically drag her to our room and slam the door behind us before she, or Thomas, can say anything.
As we stand in the room staring at one another, romance all around us from the wine to the flowers… it’s like a honeymoon suite. But I stand there silent because for once, I’ve got nothing to say.
Are you surprised?
Maybe don’t answer that.
Madison breathes in deeply, her eyes darting around the room and then landing on mine. “What was that about down there?” she asks.
Reaching for the wine bottle on the dresser, I wink and flop myself back on the bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Glancing around the room, Madison sighs. “I’m hungry.”
I sit up with the bottle of wine. “Let’s drink then.”
She frowns. “You know I don’t drink.”
Do you see me there? Muscles and jaw tensed like I’m about to lose it? I feel like a can of soda that’s been shaken constantly, and I’m about ready to explode. You know that feeling right before you vomit where you break out into a cold sweat and your heart starts pounding?
That’s me right now.
“Are you checking in?” a voice behind me asks.
Go to hell.
I catch a man’s stare behind me. “Oh, yeah.” I reach for my wallet, and I want to toss it behind me and tell him to take care of everything because I don’t want to miss anything Thomas has to say to Madison or vice versa.
Thomas is smiling like he’s been given a gift, a second chance. No fucking way.
“Mr. Cooper?”
Goddamn it.
With a heavy sigh, I turn around to hand the hotel clerk my credit card and attempt to hear what they’re saying behind me.
They chat. Simple things like, how are you? Got any kids? What are you doing here?
I’m okay with that part.
It’s when he says, “So what made you guys come to Sahara? Are you having troubles?”
Say no. For the love of God, SAY NO, MADISON!
Sahara Resort is advertised as a couples retreat. A place where you can come to get away and fall in love again. If we’re here, it’s clear we’re having some sort of martial issue, right?
And I hate, absolutelyhate, that her ex-boyfriend is asking this. You never ever want the ex to know there are problems.
“Well,” she looks at me, probably waiting for me to say something, “we just needed to get away for the weekend.” She pauses, my heart evens out, but then she crushes my soul with, “Remember why we’re together.”
Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a big deal. There’s nothing wrong with needing to remember, right?
Wrong. This is a jab at me that I’m not doing my job. I know this and guess what? Thomas knows now.
He nods as though he’s agreeing, but inside he’s grinning like a fool.
Have you ever heard of cape buffalo? They’re in Africa. Anyway, the male bulls have to fight their way high enough up the dominance hierarchy to secure his opportunity to mate. Do you hear that? Eight years. We’ve been married for eight years. I’d be damned if this guy or any other guy for that matter would take my place in the hierarchy.
I grab my wife’s hand. “All checked in. Let’s go.” And I practically drag her to our room and slam the door behind us before she, or Thomas, can say anything.
As we stand in the room staring at one another, romance all around us from the wine to the flowers… it’s like a honeymoon suite. But I stand there silent because for once, I’ve got nothing to say.
Are you surprised?
Maybe don’t answer that.
Madison breathes in deeply, her eyes darting around the room and then landing on mine. “What was that about down there?” she asks.
Reaching for the wine bottle on the dresser, I wink and flop myself back on the bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Glancing around the room, Madison sighs. “I’m hungry.”
I sit up with the bottle of wine. “Let’s drink then.”
She frowns. “You know I don’t drink.”
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