Page 89 of Dirty Ink

I looked over at him. Both our cheeks were strawberry-red from the wine. We were clearly both far, far away from sober.

“Thanks, baby,” I said.

Mason pressed his lips to mine. And for a moment it was all real. My husband and I out at dinner with our friends. Plans for the future bright and happy. For a moment I didn’t cling so desperately to the present, because we would have loads of evenings like this. Mason would always believe in me, always find me so irresistible that he couldn’t help but kiss me. We would always leave together and make love and wake up in each other’s arms. And we would never know what day it was, never think, “One day less”. Because for a moment Day 30 didn’t exist. Because for a moment there was forever.

My phone vibrated in my lap, distracting me. I pulled away with a sudden jerk. Otherwise I think it would have had to have been Conor or Aurnia who tore us apart. I glanced down at the caller ID to see Tim’s name.

This time the presence of Mason’s eyes on me made me red with a different kind of embarrassment.

“It’s my…producer,” I said, putting the phone away a little too hastily.

“Does he need you?” Mason asked when my phone immediately vibrated again.

I smiled and shook my head. Tim didn’t need me: the woman who ordered too much wine, the cheater, the girl stripping on stage, the mess who still had feelings for her secret husband of ten years who left her. Tim needed the promise of me. The promise of a sweet, innocent wife. Tim needed the woman he proposed to.

I just wasn’t sure I was her anymore. Or if I ever had been her.

Conor and Aurnia were discussing continuing drinks at The Jar. But Mason’s eyes were still on me. I put my phone on silent as Tim called again and leaned forward, elbows on the table, avoiding Mason’s questioning gaze.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Really, let’s not stop. We definitely shouldn’t stop.”

I was afraid if we stopped, the fragile fantasy I was living in would crack. Break. Shatter. The key was to just keep going.

“You know what?” I laughed. “Let’s go to Marseilles!”

Everyone laughed with me. Even Mason. But a part of me was serious. Really serious. I wanted to run away with Mason. With Conor and Aurnia and Rian. With this little life that felt real. I wanted to run away and hide it. Protect it. Keep it.

Before it fell apart.

Mason

It was getting late. I’d had a long day. A new client. And a talker at that. Of course, he wanted a giant-ass tattoo across his shoulders. It took the whole afternoon. My brain was dead. My ears were bleeding. I was hardly paying attention to what I was doing as I barged into the bathroom up in my room.

It wasn’t my fault.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” I said quickly as I jumped back from the bathroom as if the tiles had scalded my feet, the light had burned my eyes, and the person in there had exhaled fire from his mouth. “Shite, sorry!”

From the bathroom came a muffled laughter. As I finished dragging my hands over my face, I saw a toothbrush with a dollop of toothpaste atop it extend out into the bedroom. When I didn’t immediately take it from the delicate fingers, it wiggled at me.

Rachel leaned back, her own toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. White foam giving her a little moustache. She had a raised eyebrow. An amused grin.

“It won’t bite,” she said out the corner of her mouth, jabbing my toothbrush at me.

I took the toothbrush slowly. I kept my eyes on her the whole time. Rachel stepped aside to make room for me to slip inside the little bathroom along with her.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Rachel took the toothbrush from her mouth and said, “Am I sure that I want you to brush your teeth? Um, yeah, I think I am.”

“No,” I said, glancing into the tightness of the bathroom. The narrowness of the space between the tub and the radiator. The smallness of the pedestal sink. “No, I mean, are you sure you want me in there with you.”

Rachel blinked at me.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, glancing down at the toothpaste she’d obviously put out just for me. Probably done it when she’d done hers. Maybe even hadn’t thought about it. “I just…brushing your teeth together is like…”

Rachel laughed and guessed, “Scary?”

---