Maybe It Will

By

Henry Peters

A Short Story

I

Small—Startling—Slips

She said it to me, plain as day: "I had an affair last year."

Carrie did this to me. I can't believe this. How? I don't know—why would she do this to me? Why? With me?

Okay, maybe I'm acting a bit silly in these simple words, but so would you when you found out that your 9 year marriage was soon covered in lies when we vowed to be together and stay together, only with each other—especially in bed!—in sickness and death.

Carrie Watterson? Carrie Watterson? Carrie Watterson? Why did it sound so right, but was so wrong?

I just can't believe this. I really can't. You?

As you may guess (which I know you won't), I'm writing this down on my laptop at the nearest coffee shop. I'm in Riverside downtown, my lucky place, as I always referred to it as. Carrie knows that this is my lucky place. Maybe she doesn't. She just doesn't love me anymore to know that this is my little slice of heaven, where I go when I need to think—not drink, think!

Well, it's 9 p.m., so I guess it really shouldn't be blown into proportion.

Goddamn my bipolar disorder. I don't like the fact that my feelings can both show sympathy and anger at the same time.

You know what? Fuck it. Maybe this is actually a blessing in disguise. Maybe this is actually God telling me that I married a whore.

No, no, no. I can't be that harsh, she only did sleep with my fucking brother Darwin. Jesus Christ, why?

Fuck my life! Fuck Carrie.

Looking back at my wedding is very pathetic. I know—look back at the good times. I can give you three reasons why I declared that very day the best day of my life: 1) My family and friends were happy for me, knowing that I found the one I wanted to spend with the rest of my life with. 2) I was happy, eventually getting passed some of the darkest moments of my life. 3) This was something I was very proud of myself with.

I really do mean that. I mean, I've always wanted to a writer: writing for big screen movies and short stories. My first screenplay sold was called Hate-Abuse-Recovery, adapted from a novel of the same name. It was about this 27-year-old guy having somewhat of a midlife crisis when he realizes that he is all alone and really has no one. He meets this guy, who I may recall him as Steven (or Stephen for some, I sure do) that form a short friendship. This serves as a plot device for a big emotional battle with family, rape, brutality, crime, and even within this person.

I was paid $45,000, and I knew I hit the big time. I sold it at 22, with Carrie jumping with me, receiving the check in the mail. We weren't the ones who would blow it all in one day. In fact, we were actually very poor. We still loved each other, but we were barely able to survive on such low terms of cash. I had actually got a small job teaching some immigrants to learn English.

I was actually very good at it. I even interacted with many of them when they needed me the most and there was this one who really had a special thing with. Her name was Maria (very common, I know) who had actually wanted to be a writer as well, playwright to be exact.

I even worked with her in my spare time so she can get her play ready and finished. She had written one back in her country—translated, which the title was actually called Twists and Turns that revolved around a cheating couple that had soon fallen into many dilemmas when each try to hide the truth and has a surprise ending. I can't say what it is—that would ruin the surprise.

After I was done helping her, she gave me a book that belonged to her child, who was actually gay. That came to a surprise since I would think of the book to be somewhat homo-erotic. But I remembered that she wouldn't think of it to be a good thing to hand down to a teacher/friend.

That actually brought some questions to me since the book was in English and if it was read by her son, then he would know English and he could have helped her with it. So I asked her about it, but she said it never occurred to her. Plus, she said that this was free since I was actually being paid by the government (small time for those who can't get a job, not FBI and all that) to help those who needed to learn the language.

I don't regret what happened since it was the very book that I later adapted for the big screen: Hate-Abuse-Recovery.

Some good things do happen in some events we consider to be a tragedy (for the melodramatic) or just too bad to remember. If Carrie and I weren't married, the screenplay wouldn't have existed. And this life I live as a small (as I am modest) celebrity still brings some good thrills in my small life, until she cheated on me.

29, and my wife cheated on me.

Ain't life a bitch?

You know what? I shouldn't just be sitting here and looking at the supposed good times. I should and will be out and have a good time as a fucking bachelor.

My wife cheated on me? Fuck it. It should be considered that I sleep with someone too. You know? We can call it even and all. But I really should think this through. I mean, I can't just have sex with some slut and expect it to be the same as it was for her to have sex with my brother. No, no, it's gotta be different.

I know! Two sluts, maybe an orgy. Mainly since she doesn't have family members. That would be silly.

Well, I better let my laptop finish charging (Yeah, I wrote for a while and now I need to charge it) so I could get this whole thing started.

You know, it's weird how I'm writing this and no one will read this. It's almost as if I'm talking to myself. Who knows?