Chicago, March 2016
She entered his home with a spare key he'd supplied months ago. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was sitting on his black armchair, facing the glass windows. The lights from the other buildings twinkled outside. In his hand, there was a glass of whiskey. The Glenfiddich bottle sat by the foot of his chair. He heard her come in but he didn't acknowledge her.
There was no use tiptoeing around the subject.
"So, you've heard the news?" she asked.
He gave a bitter laugh, still not looking at her. She closed the door behind her and stepped inside. His voice, low and menacing, broke through the silence. It echoed in his empty apartment.
"Of course, I've heard it. Everybody has. Congratulations, by the way."
She scowled. Coming over, she knew there was a possibility he'd be upset but she never predicted it would be to this extent. Her body itched to be closed to him but she planted her feet firmly on the ground. It was not a good day to be near him. She shouldn't have come. There was always something in the air whenever Thaddeus, Curly at this instance, was about to do something crazy– the atmosphere thickens and there's a shift, a slight crank in the system.
"Go back home, Rhonda," he growled. "Why are you here? I thought you and Eddy have finally started 'figuring stuff out'."
No one knew about the divorce yet. Eddy and her have agreed to keep it under wraps until every detail was settled.
"I'm not leaving until we talk."
He rubbed his hand against his face.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"God, why are you being so pigheaded?" she snapped.
"I have no plans in being part of your scheme," he retorted.
"It's not a scheme."
"I'm not going to be responsible for ruining a marriage a second time."
"That's so fucking trite and laughable. We had an affair, yes. But let's be real. My marriage was already ruined before you came along."
It never had a chance in the first place.
"And that affair made me feel like shit for three years. This time we're not ending up in bed. You're going back to him. Goddamit!" He flung the glass across the room. It hit a wall and shattered into tiny pieces. "He's your husband. You're carrying his child for God's sakes, Rhonda! Can't you see? This isn't– We can't do this anymore."
She doesn't speak. Thaddeus took in ragged breaths to calm down. Their eyes met. She wasn't going to back down. He can't scare her. This was all for show. Theatrics.
"I want to be with you," she said, standing firm.
He flinched as if he was struck with a sword. She watched his brown eyes, usually filled with laughter, become glazed and empty. There it was. Out in the open. Her words hung in the air. All he needed to do was grab it. Instead, he waved them away and the letters vanished like smoke.
He shook his head. "You can't," he said, his tone tight, controlled.
"Why not?" she challenged.
She heard him sigh. He faced her with a sombre expression as if he was suddenly tired of the pretence. Then, there was fire in his eyes and his mouth curled harshly.
"Because you're married and I don't love you."
Rhonda's throat clogged with emotion and her voice shook. "You're a lousy liar."
Tell him about the divorce, go on.
But she couldn't. It was a test. Silly, it was silly, but somehow she believed it was necessary.
He tilted his head. A sliver of the city light cut through his eyes. It added to his feral appearance.
"Am I? Really? I'm not lying, believe me. I've only realised it just now, sitting here. We've been doing this dance for what? Ten years? Eleven? And it's brought us nothing but misery. That's not how love is supposed to be. We're not in love. We never were. This is just lust. Plain and simple."
She wanted to raise a hand in objection, like a student with something to say, but she bit her lip. It was time for him to speak now. Let it all out of his system. She'll get her word in later and rebut every stupid thing that he said later.
He gave a humourless laugh. "It was supposed to be a fling, you know? This started out as a fling. Something to get you out of my mind. It wasn't supposed to drag on this long. I got with you so I could move on. Date other women and forget about you. But here we are, years later, and I'm still fucking stuck with you!"
His hands were shaking by his sides. They had formed into fists. She didn't know who he was more angry at, her or himself. The words hit hard. Her chest felt incredibly painful. Suddenly, she didn't feel like working on a rebuttal anymore. There was a numbness that dug deep into her soul.
She swallowed the lump on her throat and she shot him a weak smile. Her tears were on the precipice of falling. He turned away.
"You know what?" she said, shakily. "I get it. It's fine. I hoped for too much. I let this get to my head."
"Rhonda, please," he pleaded, still not meeting her eyes. "Please understand. You're Edward's woman."
She did understand. Nothing has changed. They were still trapped. Albeit by different circumstances.
"Hey, I know better than anyone that all good things come to an end."
He didn't answer her. His hands were in full on tremors now. It was his tell. He was overwhelmed and he needed to do something about it. She walked over to where Thaddeus stood and settled next to him. She followed his gaze, out into the city below. People going on with their lives as her heart was breaking. It fell into shattered bits, scattered on his apartment floor. They stood in silence for a while.
Rhonda saw the cars moving again when the light turned green.
"Thank you for everything."
She was proud of the way her voice didn't shake this time. She almost sounded aloof. Like this affair was just a business transaction. He released a sharp breath upon hearing her. The man she loved… his face was awash with the city lights, transforming his profile into something more ethereal.
"Don't say that," he whispered. "You don't mean that."
She knew he thought the thank you cheapened what they had.
"Why not? I mean it. I want to thank you."
"No. It's not– I don't… That's not what I want."
"Doesn't matter what you want," she said harshly. "It's my turn to talk now. I'm still thanking you. It's been a thrill ride and I had fun. It's lust. Plain and simple. That's what it was. Like you said."
He grabbed her hand. The contact turned her into stone.
"I didn't know it would come to this."
Funny thing was, she did. She just hoped it wouldn't. She dreamed. Even rich girls can dream, can't they?
Why do fools fall in love? He had said that once. A long time ago. Why? Why do they?
However hard this was, she didn't want to leave bitter. Rhonda wanted to feel his skin for the last time. So, she faced him, her hand reaching up to brush against his lips. She cradled his jaw, his eyes closed, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. There was something bittersweet about knowing this was the last time. The calm before the proverbial storm. A raging tornado that was ready to rip apart everything in its path. Their lives would change forever. There would be carnage. Glorious, long-awaited carnage. And yet, Rhonda felt dead inside.
"Nobody can ever expect it."
She wanted to rest. The dust would soon settle.
She was so tired. So tired of the way that he didn't fight for her. So tired of being the one to always initiate. She was so tired of waiting for him. To gain the courage to love her fully because she knew he did. She felt it whenever they made love or in the way he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking. Or when he accompanied her to see romantic comedies he had no intention of seeing. Listen patiently as she shared her problems during late night phone calls. Coming to her rescue when she had landed herself in a jam.
It was more heartbreaking to leave when she knew but she had to. He's made up his mind. And most importantly…
Lloyds don't beg.
They persevere. They keep their pride.
If he wasn't going to say it, if he was't going to fight for her, she wasn't going to force him.
"You're right," she said.
His wide brown eyes opened.
"About?"
"This. This wasn't love," she said softly. The air conditioning unit hummed above them. It's cold air brought a chill to Rhonda's skin. She shivered.
Lie.
"Yeah. We were just…"
"I was lonely. You were lonely. We were just two lonely people who made each other feel less lonely and that's okay," she said. "That's the most we can do."
Lie harder.
She let go of his hand. His gaze never leaving her face.
This is it. There's no going back.
"I want you to know, even right now… I don't regret anything,"
"Rhonda–"
"No, no. Don't say anymore. This is where we are," she insisted, her voice even and determined.
I love you. Ask me to stay… Please.
"Goodbye, Thaddeus. I'm going back now. I won't bother you anymore."
He should have looked devastated but instead there was nothing. His face was smooth and unreadable. The hands that were shaking so violently a few moments before were now still.
"You never bothered me," he rasped, his eyes trained on the floor.
"Not even once?" she aimed for a joke, tilting his face up with a hand. His wide brown eyes were vacant. It broke her heart a little more.
He shook his head. "Not once."
There was a moment that passed between them, an understanding. "I should say it too," he whispered.
"Say what?"
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye. Goodbye, Rhonda."
She nodded, not trusting her tongue to form words. His hand dropped back to his side and so did hers.
She fought the urge to kiss him. She wanted yell, "Psych! It's just a joke. I'm actually staying. It doesn't matter if you think you don't love me!" But she had too much pride for that. She didn't want to put herself through the torture. She deserved someone who was brave enough to admit it. For all his reckless abandon and gusto, Thaddeus was an emotional coward. She deserved better.
Come on, fight for me…
So she turned away and left. In her mind, he was still standing there, watching her as she disappeared through his front door. He doesn't call after her and she knew her resolve would have been broken if he had. She would happily turn back, run, and jump into his arms. So instead, her steps quickened until she was in the elevator and then across the lobby and lastly the front of her car. She jumped in and fiddled with the radio. It switched to a heavy metal station. Her foot pressed on the accelerator and she sped through the Chicago streets as fast as she could. She drove further and further away from the father of her unborn child.
The storm was coming.