Page 52 of What Happened Last Night

I was hoping that we would be able to work together on his new project, that I would be able to get to know him a whole lot better, but it wasn’t to be. W (I’m going to call him W in these pages just in case my diary falls into the wrong hands and someone can use this against me) made a bit of small talk with me as I handed him the folder I had been instructed to give him, but that was it.

I left his office feeling a little bit disappointed that I wouldn’t get to see him again for maybe a long time, but still, I felt incredibly happy that I had met him.

That didn’t seem too incriminating. In fact, if anything, it made it sound like Candy had a little crush, a little crush that William may or may not have reciprocated. I moved on to the next heavily read page. It was dated just a few months ago.

So it happened. I saw my sexy W again. And this time, I know I’m not crazy. Somehow, W likes me like I like him. I know when a guy is into me. All women do. Even if they pretend not to, they know. W was most definitely into me. I can’t believe my luck.

He called me to his office on the pretense that his secretary was unavailable and he needed some notes taken. His secretary was at her desk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t available. That was when I dared to hope something could happen here. It must be going to happen. W isn’t the kind of guy to waste his time on people if there’s nothing in it for him, and what else could he possibly want from me except me?

I was so nervous when I went into the office, but W put me at ease, laughing and joking around with me. Flirting with me. He spent an hour or so going over the notes he needed typed and then he smiled at me and pushed his drawings to one side. He asked me if I was single and I told him I was, floating on air, knowing that meant he liked me. I asked him the same question, and while his answer wasn’t what I had hoped for—he confirmed that actually, he was married—it still gave me at least a little bit of hope when he told me it wasn’t a happy marriage, that his wife wasn’t a nice woman.

We talked for a long time, W telling me about how his wife was nothing but a bitch, how they fought constantly because she was always trying to undermine him. He told me it hadn’t always been like that. That at first, she was different—sweet, supportive, loving. But then he said she changed, that she was jealous of his success and she started shutting him out, undermining him, berating him for every little thing he said or did.

I didn’t need to meet W’s wife to know I hate her. She has this gorgeous, amazing man by her side, and she doesn’t seem to notice or care. Maybe she’s not a bitch. Maybe she’s just stupid or something, but in some ways, I knew I had to be grateful to her. If she had treated W like he deserved to be treated, he would never be here, talking to me. At least not about anything more significant than the drawings. And even that was only a ruse to get me here in his office without it being obvious why I was there.

I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. The whole time we were talking, there was this chemistry between us. W kept looking at me, the lust on his face undisguised. And when he was talking to me, sometimes, he would put his hand on my arm or my thigh, an innocent enough touch in some ways, but each time, the touch lingered on for a little bit longer, and I knew quickly that the touching was anything but innocent. It was W’s way of testing the water, of checking to see if I would freak out and tell him to stop.

When I was finally dismissed from his office with a warm smile and an apology for distracting me, W kissed me. His kiss awoke a fire within me, and when we pulled away, breathless, and W asked me to come back to his office after work the next day, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. I am so happy right now. I am so smitten right now.

I wish I could tell someone about it, but I know better than to do that. W is a well-known guy, and I won’t risk his thinking I can’t be trusted by having any of this story come out. I’m just glad I have you, diary, so at least I can let my excitement out somehow. God, I can’t wait until tomorrow.

I skimmed over the next few entries, reading bits of them here and there, even though those pages weren’t flattened. I soon saw why. They were long, rather eloquent descriptions of what William and Candy got up to sexually. It seemed that William still had plenty of go in him, and Candy was eating out of his hand by this point. It was clear from the entries that she had fallen for him and that she had fallen hard.

I knew I might have to come back to the loved-up entries at some point, but right now, I was more interested in when things started to go wrong. I skipped ahead to the next flattened-down page.

Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God. W only told me he that loved me today. I said it back. Of course I did. Because it’s true. I have never felt this way about anyone before.

I thought it couldn’t get any better than hearing that W loved me, but I was wrong. After he said it, he gave me the best news ever. He was going to leave C (I’m doing the same thing with the initials, and if you’re reading this, stop. It’s not yours and none of this is any of your business), his bitch of a wife, and we could be together properly, just the two of us, forever.

I didn’t even know it was possible to be this happy. I legit feel like I might explode with happiness, like it’s just going to burst out of me.

I wondered at first if I should feel bad for W’s wife, but the more I think about it, the more I know I don’t feel bad for her at all. She had her chance. She had W. He was hers, and she threw it all away and now he’s mine. If she had been a good wife, treated him right, and not been jealous of his success, then maybe she wouldn’t have forced him to find someone who would treat him right. I mean, what sort of small-minded person is jealous because their own husband is successful? Isn’t marriage meant to be a partnership?

I paused for a second as I reached the end of the entry to appreciate the irony of the thing about being jealous. If only Candy knew that William was only sniffing around at her to get back at his wife for being more successful than him.

As I read the diary entries, it was fast becoming clear to me why Candy went so far off the rails once William ended things with her. She clearly thought of their time together as more than a fling, and if her diary could be believed, William had been responsible for making her think that they were something more. I shook my head and went to the next flattened page.

W is nothing but a bastard. A lying, cheating bastard of a man, and I hate him. I absolutely hate him. But I don’t hate him. Not really. I love him. I can’t help it. He broke my heart this morning, but really, it wasn’t him. It was his bitch of a wife. Now her, I do hate. Like more than I’ve ever hated anyone. Ugh, why can’t she just fuck off somewhere and die?

W told me this morning that his wife had found out about us. At first, I was overjoyed. That meant we could finally be together. W had avoided telling her about us, saying she wasn’t in the right place mentally to hear this yet. But now that she had found out anyway, there was no reason for him to stay with her now. Except he told me we were over. Not him and her. Him and me.

He told me that we had been a mistake, that what we had was just a meaningless fling. I reminded him of all the things he’d said to me. How he loved me. How he wanted to leave his wife for me. And he just shrugged and repeated that we were over.

I have never felt pain like this. I’ve heard people talking about broken hearts, of course I have. But until that moment, I had never realized that it literally felt like your heart was breaking. That it was an actual physical pain.

I feel like I’m going to die. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe then the pain would stop, and W would really see what he had done. Maybe then he would see that he should have chosen me over her.

I felt anger swirling inside me as I read the last entry over again. It was fast becoming clear to me that William had taken this sweet girl, made her think she was special to him, and then tossed her aside like trash when it suited him. Of course, she had been naïve. A man like William would never leave his society-conditioned wife for a girl like Candy, but that didn’t change the fact that William had broken her heart.

I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I was starting to see where Morrie was coming from. This diary was painting the picture of a girl who was happy and full of life. And then the spark in her died the day William told her she didn’t matter to him.

I almost didn’t want to read on, but I knew I had to and dutifully flicked through to the next dog-eared page. I read the entry that described Candy’s visit to William’s home to see Carlotta in the flesh and how she couldn’t believe that William had chosen Carlotta over her now that she had seen her close up. Candy wanted to know what Carlotta had that she didn’t have. She concluded it certainly wasn’t her looks.

The next few entries I read showed me the story of a girl sinking further into depression and with it, embracing the delusional fantasy that everything that was wrong in her life was Carlotta’s fault. She had taken the bait from William about Carlotta being a bad wife, and she was running with it, blaming Carlotta entirely for losing William. It was like she just switched off from the fact that William had a choice and that he had chosen Carlotta over her.

The next entry that really made me sit up and take notice was the one where Candy found out that she was pregnant. By that point, she was drinking quite heavily and had started taking meth. She described meth as her safety blanket. She talked about how when she was high, she didn’t feel the pain. That for those few hours, she could tell herself she was okay. She was even happy. And until the effects of the meth wore off, she actually believed it.

I’m pregnant. I’ve just found out today. The baby is W’s, obviously. At first, I felt like the bottom had fallen out of my world when I saw the word Pregnant on the little white stick. I felt like I was too young to be a mother, and the thought of having to raise a baby alone truly terrified me. But the more I thought about it, the more I began to see the truth.

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