The Other Woman

This was, by far, NOTHING like me. Sure, one of my best friends was a drug dealer, sure my boyfriend was a rock star; prone to using and maybe even abusing drugs, but me? Never in a million years did I think I would be on the receiving end of a syringe. And not just any typical physician’s needle, but one with copious amounts of heroin inside.

“You want anything to drink?” Jose asks while stuffing the $20 bill I had just given him into his pant pocket. I’m not sure how I found myself back into his house this breezy day in May. And this was definitely not the second time I’d come to him. Actually, he had been my dealer for several weeks, but I had kept my drug use strictly to coke and pot. And now here I am, in a small but cozy apartment, giving my hard earned money to the devil himself.

“Just a beer,” I answer.
Currently curled on Jose’s horribly uncomfortable couch, I watch as he walks briskly into his kitchen, humming along to some happy tune. As he ventured into his refrigerator I stare quite blankly at the syringe on the coffee table in front of me. Also on this caramel colored coffee table lie an alcohol wipe, a tiny bottle of rusty brown liquid (obviously the drug), a teaspoon, and a copy of an old issue of Playboy magazine.

Jose returns a few moments later, three beers clung to his dirty fingers. After plopping himself on the couch, he fingers around in his pockets only to fork out a pack of cigarettes.
“Want?” he nudges me, pointing to the booklet of matches on the coffee table so that I could pass them.

“Sure.”
The only seldom time when I had smoked cigarettes, and on very limited occasions., was back in college. The nicotine seemed to have great effects if you were stuck on an eight page paper due that same day, continuously typing until five in the morning.

A series of short coughs waged war through my body at the first puff. Grinning, I eye Josè as he takes a long and professional drag of his cigarette, blowing a tarring puff into the air. After several more moments of small talk, we finally finished off our cigarettes.
“Gimme your arm,” he practically purrs into my ears.

I already knew what was coming. And I shut my eyes as I reach across and lay my right arm on his knee. I could feel the chilly cold of the alcohol as he cleaned off my arm. I could feel the cool tightness of the leather belt as Jose wrapped it loosely about my forearm. I could feel my arm beginning to tire out as I repeatedly clenched my fist so he could find a vein.
“Got it,” he happily exclaims after several failed attempts.

The needle slowly slipped inside my vein and almost immediately the sensation swept through me. It could only be described as euphoric…

I was washing dishes in the sink when I heard Jen bound inside the apartment from work. And just as I had placed a dried glass into the cupboard, she leaps beside, nearly knocking the glass out of my grasp.

“Do you know who’s here?!” she squeals with a mixture of glee and scandal
“It better be someone important for you to knock me down,” I frown
Trying to compose herself, she drops her purse to the freshly cleaned counter top and begins her annoying routine of breathing unnecessarily loud and splaying her manicured fingers back and forth.

“Fuck my shit!” she squeals, not being able to compress this spell of excitement. “It’s Tre, he’s outside!”

“WHAT?”

She doesn’t respond to my frightened and confused voice, just continues smiling and fiddling about with her fingers. “I got out of my car, and just saw some guy standing around down the hall by Ced’s door. I looked a little harder and I’m 100% sure it’s Tre.”

I can barely b reathe. This was NOT happening.
“H-how? How did you see him?”

“It’s Tre” she forcefully counters while grabbing my shoulders for emphasis. And I believed her. Of course he would come now when I resembled a train wreck. I hadn’t washed my hair in weeks, my clothes were filthy from today’s impulse cleaning and only God knows what was inside the refrigerator since I had yet to go grocery shopping.

“Jennifer, what am I gonna do. What am I supp-“

I cannot even get to finish my plea with my best friend when a couple of frighteningly soft knocks clash against the door. My heart which had been racing before begins pumping even faster now. My mind is reeling with a million scenarios, with how he looked, if he had forgiven me or not…

“Do you want me to leave?” she whispers as if he’s right beside us.
“Hell no! Shit…I cant see him,”

“Stop being a moron,” she hisses. “I’ll be in my room, eavesdropping as best I can, ok?”
I nod quickly before running into the living room. “Coming,” I try to yell, but it comes out as croak.

I open the door and nearly begin bawling at the mere sight of him. He looked so miserable with spark-less blue eyes and a gloomy demeanor. His shoulders seemed tense, but hung low all the same. His hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in a while, but like a brush had gone through it today to seem somewhat presentable. He was definitely in need of a shave; I was scared that my face would be scraped off completely if his jaw happened to slide by. This could not possibly be Tre Cool, my ex-boyfriend…could it?

We stare at each other for several moments, neither of us willing or wanting to open our mouths to speak the first words…to speak the truth.

He coughs suddenly and drops his eyes from off mine to the floor beneath him. I too follow his actions, and drop my stare to the floor.
“Can I come in?” he asks, still not daring to look me in the eye.
“Yeah, sure” I respond, moving out of way so that he may enter my abode. He walks in slowly, brushing passed me, and I swore I could feel the cold and gloom of his heart blow onto me, sending frightening chills down my spine.

Once I shut and lock the door, I shut my eyes and recite a small prayer. I pray for forgiveness and reconciliation, whatever it may be, as long as Tre was happy.

He walks straight towards the couch, flopping down onto the cushions. And it’s just then that I notice he has a small parcel in his hands. A bit shaky, I settle myself on the couch opposite him.

“Um, do you want anything to drink?” I ask shyly, completely out of my element here.
“Sure, what d’ya got?”
“Um some vodka, gin, and a little red wine. I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet,”

He runs a hand down the side of his face, clearly as nervous as I was about the situation. “Uh, I’ll just have some gin” he finally says.

Nodding, I get off the couch and practically run into the kitchen. And once I was inside, I realize I hadn’t been breathing, and quickly exhale the accumulating air. Turning the cold faucet on, I sprinkle a tiny amount on my color drained face. How was I supposed to converse with him if I couldn’t even breathe.

“I forgot your friend’s name who lives with you,” Tre suddenly mumbles. Surprised I turn around to see a small grin plastered to his face.
“Oh,” I breathe, “um it’s Jennifer,”

“Is she here?”
I nod. Nothing is said for several moments as I prepare the tall glasses of drinks that we would SURELY be needing.

“Uh, by the way… sorry about your phone,” he says apologetically, handing me the small box in his grasp. I knew it wasn’t a gift. His eyes weren’t sparkling like they usually did when he gave me presents. Nor was their an arrogant grin plastered to his perfect face when he gave me a gift he knew I would love.
I slowly take it, feeling a familiar warm feeling flood my senses. “It’s the same one you had before” he adds.

I could already feel my emotions getting a hold of me, tears wanting to escape my eyes, but I hold them back.
“Thanks, but you really shouldn’tve,” I smile, placing the package on the counter.

He doesn’t respond but takes a rather large gulp of vodka.
“So…” I drag, “why are you here?”

“That was kinda blunt,” Tre smirks, drawing invisible circles on the countertop.
“That’s what gin tends to do,” I giggle.

“I want you to tell me about you and Billie Joe,” he says, his tone far more sober than before.

“Tell you what?” I almost snarl. What the hell was there to tell about Billie and I?
“How you guys met and shit. I’ve been thinking about you and him since I found out, and I cant go to him or I’ll choke the life from him.” he seethes. “Besides,” he adds, “I think it’s the least you can do”

Sighing, it’s my turn to take large gulps of my glasses of vodka and gin.
“Fine. I met him at a concert, we kissed, we fucked, the end.” I sneer, combing my nervous hands through my dirty hair.

He suddenly grabs my hand, clasping into his own, before walking us both out of the kitchen and back into the living room.

“Who do you think you a—“
“Sit down,” he commands, shoving me not so gently into the sofa. I nearly fall off the armrest at the force before settling myself comfortably. Tre actually sits beside me, already dropping his head into his hands at what I was about to unveil to him. All the lies, truths, affairs, everything.

“How did you meet Billie?” he asks in a somber whisper. I can already feel hot tears welling in my eyes, he looked so disappointed, so gloom with despair. “And don’t give me no half-assed bullshit,”

“I met him at a concert in New York. It was for a club that was being shut down. Other bands were there as well,” I reply, sniffling back my tears. He nods, encouraging me to continue my confession. “Um, I was just wondering around the crowd with a friend, and he bumped into me really hard. I didn’t know who he was or anything, so I sort of yelled at him,”

“Sounds like you,” Tre interjects, trying desperately to calm the tension in the room…and failing. I was still as nervous and afraid as fuck at what his reaction would be.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “So anyway, we kinda got into a mini-argument. I guess he couldn’t believe that a fan or whatever would yell at him. But afterward he looked kinda sad, so I apologized and was about to go get an autograph from AJ in the band Lit, bu—“

“Lit was there?” Tre asks, popping his head up from the havens of his hands. I nod.
“I don’t ever remember playing with those guys…”

“A lot of bands were there, I doubt you’d remember,” I retort. He doesn’t respond, which I take as my cue to continue. “So I was about to go to AJ when Billie Joe started acting nice, and that’s when some girls came up to him and asked for his autograph. He t—“

“Did he fuck them too…” Tre angrily interrupts, causing me to drop my head in shame. “sorry, what happened after that,” he mumbles with annoyance.

“He signed some, and then asked if I wanted to go backstage with him.”

“What?!” Tre suddenly barks. “He fucked you within minutes of meeting you?!”
“No!” I whimper sadly, a tear or two already falling to the floor. “We just talked and he told me how he and Adrienne were thinking of divorce. And I’m not sure how, but we ended up kissing,” I sadly conclude.

His blue eyes are twinkling with tears when I finally manage to look at him. I felt like complete shit for breaking this mans heart. He had been nothing short of amazing to me, and this was how I reimbursed him for his kindness, generosity, love, and attention. By screwing around with his bandmate, practically ruining his friendship with Billie Joe, ripping the band in half, and most importantly creating this look of utter misery on his face.

“What happened afterward,” he asks, rubbing his hands down his face so that I cant see his emotions. But it was too late, and I was already quietly crying with warm tears slipping silently from the wet corners of my eyes.
“Um, someone knocked on the door. So we had to stop, it was Mike and he cam—“
“MIKE?” Tre asks, not believing one word he was hearing. “So where the hell was I?!” he squeals. “The whole fucking band met you before I did!”

This was too painful. There was no way I could finish telling him about my ordeal with Billie if he was going to keep interrupting with hurtful comments and occasional sniffles.
“I’m sorry, just go” he chokes out, waving his hand off at me.

“I um, we stopped cuz of Mike…” I began, but couldn’t finish. “Tre, I really cant do this!” I cry and abruptly get up from the couch and speed walk into the kitchen. Bending my elbows over the sink, I turn on the faucet, and splash warm water all over my teary face.

How the hell could I finish the story? I hadn’t even mentioned sex yet and I was in tears.
“Do you want some more wine?” Tre asks from the counter behind me, his lips already attached to a new glassful of the ruby red liquid.

‘No thanks,” I sniffle. He shrugs, not giving one little fuck.
“Why the hell are you even crying?” he asks boldly, slamming the now empty glass on the marble counter. “If anything, im the one that should be crying,”

“You’ll never understand,” I sniff, head still slung over the metallic sink. “You might be in pain and all that shit, but how do you think I feel for being the one to cause this fucking mess?!” I yell, now turned around and facing him.

“You should feel fine with Billie’s dick lodged up your ass!” he roared, slapping the glass off table, making it smash as it fell to the floor.

“Go to hell,” I reply in a monotone voice, already waltzing right passed him and out of the kitchen.

Gathering some balls, I stomp towards the front door, wrenching it open in a haze of fury. Mere seconds later he’s stomping out after me, mouth already twisting to curse at me some more.
“Get out!” I scream.
“You’re kicking me out?!” he squeals in audaciously

“Yes! You’re not gonna be in my fucking house screaming at me! Calling me all kinds of fucking names!”

He sighs defeatedly, his face race and tired. “Look Serenity, I didn’t come here to fight or any shit like that. I just stopped by to hear the truth. And I thin—“
“I’m trying to tell you the truth, Tre” I interrupt, quietly closing the front door. “But I’m sorry, it’s hard”

He doesn’t respond. And I watch helplessly as he just stares at his shoes.
His damned shoes…
He couldn’t even look me in the eyes.

“It’s hard for me too Seny. It’s hard for me to picture you and one of my best friends on top of each other. It’s hard for me to picture you guys in bed, screaming and –‘
“WILL YOU STOP REMINDING ME!!” I scream oh so loudly, probably scaring Jen out of her mind.

“Me and Billie slept together a couple times, ok? I was his mistress, o.k? And this started before I ever layed eyes on you.”

Tre steps menancingly towards me, his entire body twitching with anger. “It doesn’t matter if you didn’t lay eyes on me or not. You knew he was fucking married and continued. And you slept with him WHILE you were with me, you fucking bitch,”

“You’re right and I’m sorry,” I reply, lifting my hands in surrender. “But I can’t build a time machine and go back into past to change things.”

“I don’t wanna argue about this anymore, what’s done is done” he waves his hand off, stepping away from me.
All I can do is sigh. There were so many things I wanted to tell him…

Why me?

“Uh, so you say you met him at a concert?” he wanders aloud from the couch. “continue,”
I just look at him blankly for a second, not bothering to sit down with him.

“We exchanged phone numbers so naturally we started talking on the phone with one another. A month or two into it he decided to come visit me. Which I guess is the first time we had sex.”

His eyes shut, pain and hurt radiating from him. But I fold my arms over my chest and continue…
“Um, afterwards he felt kinda guilty but still told me him and Adrienne weren’t getting along that great. S—“

“Did you feel fuilty?” he asks
“Somewhat. But I really liked him since I got to know him from talking on the phone so often. Afterward, we thought it would be more convenient for me to come out and visit. So I occasionally did, maybe once a month or so. By this time I knew I was his mistress, but I cared about him so much that I didn’t care about Adrienne or how bad he treated me. So one evening, and I don’t remember the city, we hooked up as usual and went our separate ways afterward. I went to a bar and didn’t know any of you were there. But I ended up running into Billie, who got mad and told me to leave cus Adie was there…”

“Wait a minute,” he stops me, looking as miserable as ever. “That asshole brought his wife to the same place that he met up with you?”
“Yep. Well, not the same hotel but the same city I guess.”

He sighs angrily, which is my cue to continue.
“So he told me to leave cus she was with him at the bar. And I was getting one more drink when uh, I knocked into you,”

His head doesn’t raise liked I hoped it would. It seems he doesn’t care that we even met. I walk over and sit beside him… so close that I can actually smell his cologne…hear his hard breathing.
“I bet you wish you’d never laid eyes on me,” I sniff, tears slowly slipping down my cheeks.

“Sometimes,” he sniffs, trying his hardest to hold back those unmanly tears.

Hope.

“You have no idea how surprised I am to see you, Tre. I’ve um, really missed you,” I confess cautiously.
“I’m just in town for something and decided to get this over with,”

“Get this over with?” I frown. “I tell you I’ve missed you and you reply with getting over it?” I reiterate, eyebrows quirked in sorrow.
He rolls his eyes and removes himself from the couch. “I was curious to find out how the woman I was in love with met my band mate and screwed him. So yes, that’s something I would classify as wanting to” and pulls his fingers up in quotations, “get over”.

My eyes automatically narrow at him. “You can hate me all you want, but it changes nothing,"

"Did I say it would?"

This was hopeless. We were now acting like middle school brats. Complete with games of name calling and blame. Fiddling about with my fingers, I chew on my bottom and sigh, now prepared to confess to him one more thing.

"I'd still like to be with you," I nearly whisper, not daring to raise my head from its position to see his reaction. I expected to hear a laugh, a hard one at that. But instead I felt the seat next to me give as he scooted close to my side.

"That's the problem, because so do I," he mumbled.
"Why is that a problem?"
He sighs "I cant be with you Serenity. And I think you know why..."

"Um, no I dont. I know everyone basically hates me b--"
"Because," he interjects, "life would be too complicated. I wouldnt be able to trust you or that fucker Billie Joe. God know's what Adrienne would do to you...and Mike. I just can't."

It crushed my heart to hear this, but I knew it was all true.
"But I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of picking up my phone to call you and then hanging up. I'm tired of dreaming about you, I'm tired of feeling depressed..."
"So what?" he suddenly barks, "you think my life is perfect. You think I enjoy picturing you with Billie. You think I enjoy not being able to see you. You think I'm not depressed at home, my FUCKING life is falling apart because of you!"

"So why can't you take me back?" I ask like a meager mouse, tears already edging out from the corners of my eyes.
"I just told you,"
"How many days are you staying here?"
"I leave on Friday," he mumbles
"Will you come back one more time,"

"I really dont know,"
"Please, Tre" I sniffle. "I'd like t--"
"I'm sorry, I have to go" he says before getting up and walking towards the door. "I'll try but don't expect anything,"

And with that, the man that I was still very much in love with, opened the door and walked out. Probably right out of my life. And as soon as the door closed, a whole new spell of tears emerge from my eyes, and on cue Jennifer comes out from the caverns of her bedroom to join me in my sorrow.

I definitely needed a hit from Jose.