After Tonight

"What time is your flight?” I buried my face in Rob’s side, trying to avoid the streak of light shining through the curtains. Neither of us had been able to get a decent sleep and I was quite exhausted.
“It got changed to ten-thirty.” Rob mindlessly played with my hair as he stared at the ceiling. I looked at the clock—it was six-fifteen.
“Well, I can make you breakfast. Might as well, yeah?” I rolled out of bed and scrounged around for my grey robe.
“I’ll help you.” He jumped up and pulled on his t-shirt. I shot him a look—Rob could make three things: cereal, Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese, and Hot Pockets. “You know, maybe I’ll just watch.”
For me, making breakfast on a Saturday morning was like going to a therapy session. Anything in the kitchen was a release. We didn’t get to do it often, partly because I was so lazy when I had the chance to be, but Rob and I liked being able to do something together in silence.
“Blueberry?” I held up a package of blueberries I’d recently bought at the market. Rob nodded as he grabbed a set of bowls from the cupboard.
Once I’d mixed all the ingredients, Rob disappeared briefly to return with his guitar. Our mornings wouldn’t be complete if they weren’t set to music—it was like we had our own soundtrack. He reclined in one of the kitchen chairs, propping his feet up on another. I sat on the countertop, watching the pancakes sizzle on the griddle. I’d shaped a few of them into hearts.

Rob’s P.O.V.
I played my music softly, setting a tranquil mood. Abbey swayed slightly on the countertop, keeping a watchful eye on the pancakes. I really enjoyed it when I could see her like this; whenever she was in the kitchen she was totally in her element. I loved watching her forehead knit in concentration. If she was really concentrating, she’d stick out her tongue a little too.
Abbey flipped the pancakes, softly beginning to sing along with the songs she knew. I fought back a smile; she hated it when I heard her sing. She’d told me that she had no musical ability, but I liked her voice. It was light and feminine, yet kind of husky; it always put a smile on my face. When I looked up from the guitar again, she was staring at me. She delicately stirred the contents of the mixing bowl with one hand and propped her chin up on the other. I smiled at her. Smiling back, Abbey continued flipping pancakes. I set my guitar down, unable to resist the urge to be closer to her.
I braced the counter around her hips with my hands, inhaling the scent that was now Abbey’s signature. She always smelled sweet, like sugar, and her shampoo was grapefruit—a fatal combination for me. I nipped gently at her neck, feeling her fingers tangle in my hair.

Abbey’s P.O.V.
Without having to be forced, my legs wrapped around Rob’s waist. He kissed my lips roughly, pushing me back against the cupboards.
I had to hand it to him; he was great at picking random times to turn me on.
His hand crept up underneath my t-shirt as he grabbed a handful of my hair. As I was about to give in, something started burning.
“Rob.” I pulled away, biting my lip. He cut me off with another kiss. “Rob. The pancakes are burning.”
“You’re imagining it.” I felt his lips beneath my ear. He stopped suddenly, taking a whiff. The four pancakes left were emitting smoke. “Or not.”
He reluctantly let me go and slid them into the garbage can. Once he turned off the griddle, he ran an anxious hand through his hair and looked at me with longing.
“Where were we?” I beckoned for him to come back to the counter. He grinned, cupping my face with his hands. Rob’s lips lingered in front of mine, tempting me. I groaned impatiently, crashing my lips against his.
…
After Rob left for the airport, I decided to take Jude for a run through the park. She was such a good dog and I felt bad that she was always cooped up in the flat. Jude loved to run, and now that she was nearly a year old she needed some way to stretch her legs. Rob and I always joked about her being the size of a pony, but it was the truth. I hated to think about how enormous she would be when she was a grown up.
The September air was refreshing. Not seeing paparazzi lurking behind every tree was refreshing as well. There were always three or four waiting for Rob whenever he decided to go anywhere. A few weeks ago, we’d gone out to a bar with some friends and there was a full blown paparazzi attack.
TWO WEEKS LATER:
Grace had been pestering me for weeks about going out with her and her friends. I had no idea why: out of my three siblings, Grace had never been the one to call me up to hang out. Despite the few nuggets of wisdom she’d given me when I first started dating Rob, Grace and I were not close. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to hang out with Grace; we just had nothing in common. At all. She liked clubs—which was where we would be spending the evening—and I hated them. I hated the awful music they blasted, I hated the multi-colored strobe lights and the sequined mini-dresses. But because my own friends were busy, Rob was out of town, Jo was pregnant and moody, and Keith was at family movie-night I had no choice but to go.
My only other option was crashing my parents’ Poker party—something I really did not want to do.
At seven, Grace showed up at the flat. She came bearing gifts—a makeup case and a few wardrobe choices. Apparently she thought I looked like shit.
“I’m so glad you said you’d come!” I let her in with a forced smile. “Everyone’s really excited to meet you.” I’m sure they were jumping out of their skin.
“Why the hell do they want to meet me?” I rolled my eyes when the answer popped into my head.
When Twilight came out, Grace and her friends were still in high school. That meant they were fans of Rob. I was absolutely certain Grace hadn’t forgotten to mention that I was dating him when she informed her friends that “Big Sister” would be tagging along.
“You need to wear something bright. Seriously Abbey, all those dark colors you wear make you look so bland.” I scoffed—my clothing was fantastic, I just liked natural colors! Since when did I need to dress like Disco Barbie?
“Thanks, Grace. Really, you’re kindness is overwhelming,” I deadpanned.
“Well I’m just trying to help you look good.” I scoffed again. Rob told me I looked good all the time—even the magazines complimented my clothes. When she saw my disgruntled look, Grace rolled her eyes. “Will you please just let me make you over once? Please? It’ll be fun for me.”
So I gave in. In return, I ended up looking like an extra from one of Madonna’s music videos. Grace had straightened my hair—a rare occurrence—and she’d caked enough make-up on my face to disguise my entire person. I felt like I was headed off to the circus—Bozo’s understudy. Instead of my usual, apparently “homely”, attire I was wearing a ridiculous silver top that reminded me of a poncho more than a blouse. Or maybe like a chest plate one would wear when going into battle. Grace paired that with a black barely-there skirt and my own yellow heels. As I slipped them on my feet, I whispered an apology—they were never meant to be subjected to such horror. When I looked in the mirror, I felt fresh out of Gossip Girl—which I loathed. I wanted nothing more to stay in and watch the Kevin Bacon marathon on TNT.
As Grace got herself ready—apparently people who go to clubs don’t actually leave their homes until ten or so—I texted Rob. Along with the text, I sent a quick of my clown-face.

Grace has subjected me to pure torture. I believe I’m being dragged off to some place called “The Bricks” where I’ll be forced to drink something sweet and awkwardly bob to the latest Britney Spears. All your fault. More to follow.

My phone beeped once, indicating a new message.

What the hell did she do to you? Just kidding, love, you look fine. Though I don’t really think I’d ever leave the flat with you if you put on that get-up again—it’s nothing like you. And if I tell you what I’m doing right now, you’ll kill me. One word—Bacon. Something’s up with the weather so we can’t do some of the scenes for a day or two. We’re all sitting in my hotel room watching…sorry. Can’t wait to hear how this endeavor turns out. Please keep me posted. Call if necessary—everyone here is interested.

I probably turned green with envy as I read his text. He was watching my Kevin Bacon marathon without me!
A few weeks ago, we were playing a game of Scene It with Allie and Josh. Apparently, whoever created the game is a major fan of Kevin Bacon because every other question had something to do with him. I mentioned that as a teenager, I really liked Kevin Bacon. I wasn’t sure why exactly; I just saw Footloose in my film class and got hooked. Low and behold, TNT began advertising a marathon dedicated to my feathered-haired friend. I thought it was too good to be true and was so excited that I planned my day around it. Rob made fun of me for days yet there he sat, watching it. Damn him.
Grace talked the entire cab ride. She told me all of her friends’ names, though I wasn’t sure how she expected me to identify them based on that alone. As she jabbered on, I couldn’t help but count the ways that my sister and I differed.
Grace was the party girl, the fashionista. I, on the other hand, was somewhat of a homebody who mixed and matched pieces from anywhere—I liked the casual look. Grace listened to the Top 40 and only the Top 40. My iPod held an eclectic mix, most of which never hit the airwaves. She drank Cosmos and Long Islands while I preferred wine, beer or straight-up vodka. Grace’s literature went as deep as Glamour and I spent hours in bookstores. She was shallow, and I liked to think that I wasn’t.
I needed more fingers and toes to keep an actual tab of our differences.
“We’re here!” Grace snapped me out of my trance. I figured it was only natural that two people who shared the same parents would turn out to be opposites.
We got out of the cab and were greeted by four girls and three guys. I was only twenty-five but I felt old being with Grace’s friends. I could tell they’d be nothing like my own friends. We were ushered inside and I found us a large-enough table. The music was already getting to me, but I tried to make the best of it. I felt relieved when the waitress came around to take our drink orders.
“Miller Light please.” I had to shout at her.
“Come on Abbey, you can’t order a beer.” Grace gave me a look, as well as the leggy blonde beside me.
“OK, Vodka on the rocks please.” I felt like asking for three of them.
“So tell us about Rob?” A red head across the table began to hound me once the waitress left. “What’s he like?”
“He’s nice…” I wasn’t really sure what they were expecting me to say.
“Oh Abbey, he’s more than nice.” Grace began regaling them with the few stories of Rob she had. I listened intently, making sure she wasn’t slandering him. “He showed up at our Thanksgiving, like, two years ago to beg for her forgiveness or something—it was totally cute.”
I sighed, slightly annoyed, as everyone “oohed and aahed”.
“He even took her to Hawaii this summer.”
Big Red turned back to me. “Can’t you tell us anything?” Luckily the waitress showed up with our drinks.
“I bet he’s a bad boy.” I snorted, covering it up by taking a gulp of my drink. “He just radiates that rebellious sexiness, ya’ know what I mean?”
This was my boyfriend they were talking about, the one who’d told me that he could spend forever laying beside me and watching me sleep. He regularly brought me a few stems of my favorite flowers while I was at work and enjoyed walking our dog through the park every day, holding my hand. He sang to me when I was frustrated and left me notes telling me I was beautiful.
Yeah. He was a bad boy alright.
“What about those pictures of him with that Nikki Reid? Weren’t those taken like, last week?” This caught my attention.
It hadn’t been an easy lesson to learn, but I now knew that I couldn’t believe anything printed in celebrity magazines. After everything Rob and I had gone through with incriminating pictures, I couldn’t even look through them anymore. Nikki was a good friend of Rob’s; people didn’t need to assume they were dating because they’d shown up in a magazine together.
“Yeah, I saw those in UsWeekly. She is so gorgeous—I think they look cute together.”
“Yoohoo.” I interrupted rudely, sucking the last remaining drops of alcohol from my glass. I held it up to my mouth and tipped it, making sure I got everything.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The Big Red, whose name I figured out was Casey, scoffed. She turned to Grace and asked if I was an alcoholic.
“What about that accident a while back?” One of the other girls, a small brunette named Natalie, spoke suddenly. I had been waiting for a question like this.
Everyone in our group went quiet, all eyes focused on me. We didn’t bring up the accident a lot, though every time a nasty storm would hit my nerves were a mess.
“It was an accident.” I spoke softly. My eyes closed. I was picturing Rob, bloodied and hanging from the seatbelt.
“Well duh. The tabloids didn’t really explain anything. There were just pictures of him at the hospital—it’s kind of a mystery.” I gulped. Grace wasn’t holding her friends back.
“It was raining and the car just swerved—it was an accident. We’re OK. Everything was fine.” I began to fidget with my napkin. I had officially made everyone at the table uncomfortable.
“Let’s go dance!” One of the guys shouted above the roaring music. Everyone agreed and left me sitting at the table.
I casually sipped my fresh drink, looking around. I wanted to call Allie and see if she’d come rescue me but something told me that she and Josh were doing some last minute wedding plans. Their wedding was October 16th, which was a Saturday. Rob was coming home the night before and leaving again on Sunday.
“All alone?” A voice snapped me out of my trance. I had been picturing the bridesmaid’s dress Allie picked out—it was actually something I wasn’t embarrassed to be seen in.
“Uh no, not really.” I looked up at the man standing beside my table. He was young, with curly blond hair and a black dress shirt.
“Oh really? Care to introduce me to all of your friends here then?” He smiled and I chuckled.
“They’re on the dance floor.” I finished off my drink and signaled the waitress for another one. What a long night I had ahead of myself.
“Why aren’t you?” He propped his elbow against the side of the booth. He might as well have just sat right down.
“Well my friend, I’ve been blessed with two left feet.” I graciously accepted my new glass of vodka.
“I doubt it. Dance with me.”
“I have a boyfriend.” I shook my head.
“I’m not asking you out. You just look really pathetic sitting her by yourself—think of it as a favor.” His grin was cocky, but I really didn’t care.
I thought about it briefly. I was sitting alone having an awful time. Why shouldn’t I dance? If Rob were here, I’m sure I would drag him onto the floor after a few drinks, even if we were rhythmically challenged.
“Do I get a name?” I finished my drink quickly and slid out of the booth. I had a slight head rush from the sudden intake of so much alcohol.
“Chris.” Chris smiled at me and led me to the dance floor.
The music was loud and still obnoxious. I looked around and mimicked what the other girls were doing, though not quite to their extent.
Chris tried talking to me as we danced, but I couldn’t make out a word over the techno beat. When I shouted, “Huh?” for the thirtieth time, Chris wrapped his hands around my waist. The cloudiness I’d been experiencing since my third drink vanished and I staggered back. He only smiled, pulling me closer and grinding against me. Before I knew it, the boy’s hands were wandering places they were never meant to. I felt his skin against my stomach as they traveled underneath my shirt. His hands were soft, unlike Rob’s guitar-calloused fingers.
I didn’t like it.
I pulled away, turning around. Chris wrapped his arms around my waist before I could part the sea of sweaty bodies. He held me close to him, inches separating our faces.
“Like I said man, I’ve got a boyfriend.” I squirmed in his grasp.
“If you really think I believe that…” Chris nuzzled my neck in a drunken stupor. “Come on baby, let’s go find a dark corner…”
His lips traveled down my neck and onto my collarbone, his hands once again making their way up my shirt.
“Get away from me.” I grabbed his hands firmly and pushed him away. Before he could grab me again, I lost myself in the crowd.
I grabbed my purse and searched for Grace. As I peered through the chaos, Chris saw me. I quickly ducked into the restroom and locked the door. I called Grace and left her a message, saying something about an emergency call from Allie—which she completely bought I found out later on. When I was finished, I checked to make sure the coast was clear. My friend was nowhere to be seen and I made a quick dash for the exit.
I kicked off my shoes at the front door and relished in the sanctity of my apartment. Jude whined to be let out so I quickly changed into some jeans and walked her up and down the side walk.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I washed my makeup off. I felt dirty. I stepped into the steaming shower, eager to scrub my skin clean.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been in a situation like that, and I was sure that as long as I lived in New York City, it wouldn’t be my last. But it shook me a little. My mom raised us girls to be able to take care of ourselves, and it was something I’d become good at—she’d instilled this sort of paranoia in each of us and I’d learned to rely on myself for everything. Rob changed all of that.
It wasn’t like he walked into my life and put me “in my place”—not at all. One of his favorite things about was that I could, in fact, beat his ass if I really wanted to. He told me the first day I met him that he liked independent women and he never tried to change that about me. He just showed me that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. Ever. If I ever had a problem, he was right there. And earlier at the club, he wasn’t. I had never relied on someone as much as I’d come to rely on Rob.
Before going to bed, I sent him a quick email. Not wanting a repeat of previous events involving secrecy, I decided to let him know about the minor incident at the club.

Rob—
The club was a bust—too much pleather and too many neon colors. I attempted to dance, some guy named Chris asked me. He got too friendly so I called it quits. In retrospect, I wish I would have slapped him—always wanted to do that. Nothing major, I came home afterward and am now regaling Jude with stories of my youth (just kidding). Hope you enjoyed the Kevin Bacon marathon—traitor!
xOxOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
(Lots of kisses—I get lonely)
Abbey

I fell asleep on top of the bed soon after.
…
Jo came in late the next morning. Because it was from a bout of morning sickness, I didn’t yell at her. She asked how the club was and when I told her about the gossip and Chris, she just laughed—after making sure I was alright of course. Jo thought it was hilarious that Grace had gotten me to a club. We had that in common—Jo and I were both mystified with the appeal of neon night life. We were homebodies—or “simpletons”, as our dad called us.
…
I got home later that night. The light on the phone flashed incessantly, signaling new voicemails.
“Why the hell haven’t you been answering? I know you’re at work but your email freaked me out—I know you tend to gloss over the dirty details, love. Please call me as soon as you get this.”
I smiled to myself and pressed “nine” to save the message. After heating up some left-overs, I checked me email.

Abbey,
Are you alright? What did he do to you? I know you can take care of yourself—I’ve seen that right hook—but if he hurt you in any way, I’ll get it taken care of. Christ, I sound as if I’ve got connections to the mob. Regardless, he was clearly taking advantage of you (I know you drank a lot)—fucking bastard. I tried calling you but you never answered and then we got to shooting. I’ll try later tonight—what are you doing around eleven your time?
XOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
(Too bad we can’t be lonely
together…wouldn’t that be fun.)
Rob

TWO WEEKS LATER:
On a particularly dreary afternoon, I went home to let Jude out and get the mail. Instead of the usual pile of bills, there was manila envelope stuffed with bubble-wrap.
“Yes!” I whispered excitedly as I slid my finger underneath the seal.
Whenever Rob left town for a while, we played a little game. We each made a mixed CD for the other and whoever came out with the highest ranked songs won. It was stupid, and probably lame to any outsider, but I loved opening my mailbox to find a nice little package. So far he was winning: Rob–6, Abbey–4.
I set everything down on the kitchen table and unfolded the slip of paper. Rob always sent notes along with each CD. He liked to write comments about all of the songs he picked.

Abbey,
Got some new music from everyone on set. It’s not half bad—I know you’ll love it though. Nikki and you have got similar tastes and most of it is from her. I wasn’t able to write out my commentary so I’m emailing you later this week. You’ll have to do without—I can only imagine how upset you are about this. Your CD came a few days ago. You’ve got twenty out of twenty-three this time, love—not bad. I’ll see you in exactly two weeks. I hope you remember to get me something to wear. No tuxes please and thank-you.
I love you,
Rob

I sighed, wishing the next two weeks could move at lightning speed.