Page 33 of Pitiful Lies

Other woman drama.

Nope. Not me. But how can I expect a man like that to be satisfied with someone like me?

Ugh.

I hate that. Self-doubt is a nagging bitch, and I wish I didn’t feel this way. But I’m no simpering virgin. I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve been cheated on. It sucks. And for some reason, I always take the blame.

It’s always you never try to hold my attention, Sisi or she’s got the perfect body, I couldn’t help it, Sisi.

As if their dicks ruled their brains and their commitments to me meant nothing. Who knows? Maybe they didn’t. Maybe I was the one in the wrong to expect a man to be faithful.

My own father strayed from the marriage bed and how my mother forgave him, I have no idea. But they’re still together after thirty-seven years, and I know how hard they work at it.

Counseling helped. But I remember my mother’s sadness and I remember promising myself I would never go through that.

So where does that leave me?

Alone. Or rather, on my parents’ couch listening to my idiot sister make a protein shake at this ungodly hour.

“Resa, knock it off!” I shout.

“Oh shit, Sisi, is that you? Why are you on the couch?”

My sister is supposed to be dorming at her university, but she isn’t getting along with her resident advisor. So, she’s been commuting from home.

“Yeah, it’s me. And I’m on the couch cause Mommy turned my old room into her crafting room,” I grumble and walk into the kitchen in my underwear and long t-shirt.

“Shit, I forgot,” she says

Resa isn’t alone. Her boyfriend Dan is with her, and they are both dressed for whatever horrible exercise they’re going to do.

“Morning,” Dan says with a grin.

“It’s definitely morning,” I grumble, making sure my shirt is long enough to cover my fluffy ass.

“Sorry about the noise, Sisi. We have yoga then classes start at 8,” she tells me.

I nod and start making a pot of coffee.

“It’s fine. You need any help dealing with the RA?”

“Nah,” she tells me. “I think it just has to work itself out,” she says, and I note with amusement her curly hair is sticking up all over the place in her messy bun.

We have the same hair. But while I’m short and chunky, Resa is tall and willowy with a big butt most women envy.

She’s beautiful, and I love her. But I know I can’t live here long, or I just might murder her. And that would really piss our mother off.

“So, what are you going to do about your apartment?” Dan asks.

“I don’t know. I have to try to figure out if anything is salvageable, I guess. Then I have to contact my clients, let them know what happened and that I’ll be out of touch for a couple of days,” I say, making a mental list of all the things that need doing.

We chat a little bit longer, then they both leave, and I am all alone. But before I can fall into the abyss of self-pity I’ve been circling, my phone chimes.

I look down and I grin. It’s a text from Anna.

Anna

You’re back? And you didn’t call me! Sisi, pick up the damn phone!

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