Page 102 of Unhinged

A door slams in the hallway, and Dr. Abramson sighs. “Or you can sleep in Greg’s bed since he just took Eden’s.” Amos and I look at her, and she shrugs with a slight smile. “I know the sounds of my kids’ doors slamming.”

How in the hell will I do this? I smile and gesture toward the hallway. “I’m going to bed since I’ll need to leave here early to get ready for work.”

Amos says, “I can bring you some of your things to make you more comfortable.”

I frown. “Nothing will right now, but thanks.” They look at me with sympathy, and I say, “I’ll be fine. I won’t be the one with a hangover.” Or a college kid ex-wife. Flipping shit.

Dr. Abramson says, “Simone, you can have the day off tomorrow if you want to spend it with Greg. You need to talk.”

“No, I’ll be at work. I need more time before I talk to him again.” And sign the annulment papers.

She nods, but her eyes are sad.

Amos tosses a farewell, and Dr. Abramson says, “There’s a new toothbrush in the bottom drawer of the hall bathroom. You’re welcome to it, and you can use Greg’s toothpaste.”

I smile but feel like curling into a ball or smashing windows. No middle ground. “Okay. Thanks.” I go to my purse to remove today’s birth control pill but try to be chill about it as Greg’s mother watches me punch it from its disk. Awkward.

Before I leave, she says, “Simone, Greg has been through great trauma, but I know he can be…Greg.” We laugh, and she sniffs. “But he’s exceptional, and I know I say that as his mother. But he is. I’m sure you know this too since you married him.”

I bite my lip, feeling terrible she thinks we married for love. We’re making a mockery of the institution. I wanted someday to be married to the love of my life. An epic love like Finn and Hadley, where we can’t keep our hands to ourselves and would die for and without each other. I never imagined…this.

I clear my throat. “Greg is…everything good and all I ever wanted.” My voice cracks, hitting close to the truth. But he wants another woman and thinks of me as a stupid college kid with a dick forever in my mouth. That’s all he’ll ever see in me.

“I didn’t mean to upset you more.”

I shake my head as I blink my wet eyes. “I’m fine. I just need to sleep. Goodnight,” I say, which she smiles and mutters it back. I sigh and go into the bathroom to pop the pill into my mouth and grab a handful of water. I hear soft snoring from Eden's room and relax somewhat and brush my teeth.

After I’m finished in the bathroom, in the hall, I notice Dr. Abramson watching me from the kitchen, and I retreat to Greg’s room, which is weird since he’s not in there now. I shut the door but don’t lock it. I mean, it’s his bedroom. I’m the intruder.

Looking around, I smile. With the outdated and obscure music posters and the smell of his cologne, being here is both heartwarming and heartbreaking. And it’s a battle to pick a side.

Going to his dresser, I open the middle drawer and strike gold with T-shirts. Picking the first one I see, I unfold the light blue shirt to find a picture of a white building with Hotel California scrawled in the corner. I remember him playing that song in the truck on the way to Baltimore and him lip-synching it. His lips enthralled me, wrapping around the lyrics. I imagined him whispering the words as his lips traveled over my body.

I smile again and bring the shirt to my nose, smelling Greg. This time, I cry into it. How can one man affect me this much? I just broke off our two-week fuckfest and sham marriage, each with an agreed-upon expiration date. Yet, I’m crying? In my whole life, I’ve never been so weepy in such a short time.

Dropping his shirt on the bed, I remove my blouse and bra, freeing the girls. Feeling slightly better, I sigh and then take off my skirt. Picking up his blue shirt, I put it on. Wearing his shirt would be a turn-on any other night. Though my nipples are pert and ready to be suckled, the rest of me isn’t into it. I gather my clothes and throw them on a chair before walking back to his unmade bed, where his scent is potent.

I take the side he sleeps on, and his scent is strong on the pillow. I smell his cologne, soap, skin, and cum, which not only tastes good, but it smells good too. I never thought that possible or noticed with others. Does he jerk off in his bed? Who does he fantasize about?

I inhale and close my eyes. I want to remember what he smells like when I’m back in Dover. Maybe I’ll even take this shirt.

I sleep off and on, and each time I awaken, Greg’s scent teases and punishes me.

Seeing the clock's red numbers, it’s three-thirty in the morning. I try to fall back to sleep, but then the bedroom door creaks open. I’m afraid to look since it could be a burglar, Eden, or Greg. Please let it be a burglar. I hear a dresser drawer open and then a belt buckle and zipper. His jeans and belt jingle and thump when falling to the floor. I then hear shuffling with clothes. When the bed dunks, I assume it’s option number three, but I don’t move, and he doesn’t see that I’m awake since I’m on my stomach and facing away from him.

Thinking he wants his bed, I prepare for Greg to push me onto the floor. Instead, he moves up against me and rests his hand lightly on my upper back. His fingers slide over his Eagles T-shirt, and I nearly stop breathing. His scent is more pungent, tinged with alcohol and mint.

Then the bed dips more as he rests his head on mine. I hear him inhaling deeply into my hair with a quiet groan that is pained rather than sexual. Greg surprises me more when he kisses the back of my head, but then his breaths become staggered, and I feel him shaking against me. Tears spring to my eyes as he cries. But I can’t face him and talk about it yet because I don’t know if there’s anything really to say. Though, I hate lying even if it’s fake sleeping. He whispers things into my hair, and I wish I could hear them, but if I asked, he’d never repeat them to my face, anyway. He’s probably not even sober yet.

Greg drapes his arm over my back as he sniffs and shakes more. His mouth is closer to my ear, so I hear him better when he whispers, “I’m sorry. I trust you more than anyone. You are my best friend, Simone. Not Hadley. Not since I laid eyes on you in front of the gym. I’m so fucking dense. I’m about to lose you, baby, and I can’t. Don’t change your name again. Stay married to me.”

My mouth hangs open in the dark as I quietly cry, which is almost impossible to do.

Greg leaves his head next to mine, his arm around me and his body close. He quiets, and I feel his chest rising and falling, along with his steady breaths against my neck. I feel his dick against my hip, but it’s asleep like Greg is now. I lie with him like this for a while as I try to go back to sleep but can’t. I keep mulling over his words, and he’s heavy against me.

I try to wriggle away to breathe, and Greg sleepily moves further to the other pillow. Damn. Now, I miss the bastard.

I roll over and see his naked back. The last time I saw Greg’s torso, it struck me how sexy he was. He’d deny it all day long. He’s wearing black pajama pants, I think. It can’t be sweatpants since he hates them.

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