The Man Who Can't Be Moved

“We should have our own reality show,” Vero declares, as she vigorously dunks a peanut butter Smartie cookie into a massive plastic tumbler filled to the brim with a mixture of white and chocolate milk. “You know, like that whole Real Housewives of Atlanta? With that crazy ass Nay-Nay bitch? I bet you we’d bring in killer ratings. For one, we’re all a hell of a lot younger AND hotter. We could soooo pull off a ‘Real Housewives of Pittsburgh’ gig.”

“I don’t understand what is so ‘real’ about a housewife whose husband brings in hundreds of millions of dollars a year,” Kelsey comments, as she leans across the table in order to snag a Jello shooter of a tray of the strawberry flavoured concoctions. “How ‘real’ of a housewife can you be when you have hordes of servants at your beck and call and you can spend all of your time shopping for luxury cars and going for those ridiculous pedicures where fish nibble on your feet?”

“There’s nothing real about anyone that’s filled with that much botox and plastic,” Peyton chimes in from where she sits to my right, sipping at a virgin version of a Singapore Sling. “Or that’s had that many nose jobs or is that orange from spending so much time in the tanning bed. Don’t you actually have to do something productive around the house to be considered a housewife? Shouldn’t you at least break even the tiniest bit of sweat? I hardly consider using your husband’s platinum card to shop on line busting your ass.”

“Which is why we would make a much more realistic show,” Vero says. “We’re all young, we’re all married or tied down in some way to some of the hottest athletes in the city, we actually have our real boobs and brains between our ears. Well, at least ninety percent of us do. We won’t get into Geno’s little porn star look alike girlfriend or whatever the hell she is…”

“Our lives are just way too boring,” Peyton waves off the suggestion and helps herself to one of the half dozen cookies that Vero has claimed as her own. “Half of us work, the other half go to school…”

“Some of us have been admitted to the nut house,” Erin casually remarks, and tosses back a B-52 shooter and then slams the small plastic cup down on the table top and gives me a victorious, shit eating grin. The words sting but I‘m definitely not going to fall for the bait; I‘m not letting her goad me into bitch slapping her into the middle of the next week because that would only add fuel to the fire and give her all the ammunition she needs in her constant quest to humiliate me. She‘s always been a complete bitch to me and the feeling is definitely mutual. “I think that alone would make for a pretty exciting show, don’t you? I think the viewers would just get a real kick out of seeing some spoiled little brat having a good old fashioned emotional break down every now and then.”

“Mee-fucking-ow,” Vero drawls, then holds both hands out, curls her nails down as if they’re claws and makes a vicious hissing noise. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“That was pretty harsh,” Carlisle sheepishly remarks; she’s been relatively silent from the moment that she’d awkwardly and shyly slipped into the chair to my left. Considering her rigid morals and her squeaky clean, holier than thou upbringing, I’m pretty sure we all scare the living shit right out of her with our excessive use of profanity, penchant for hard liquor and our unabashed sex talks and the details we all love to share about the men in our lives. “I mean…we all have crosses to bear,” she adds, and gives me a sympathetic, understanding smile.

The last thing I want -or need- is Sid’s new girlfriend sticking up for me. I’m sure she knows every single, little detail about our tumultuous relationship, the loss of our baby and the overwhelming grief that had accompanied it, and my completely unforgivable act of adultery and I certainly don’t expect her to like or to approve of anything I’ve said or done. I don’t want to be friends with her; I don’t want her coming to my house to hang out and I don’t want to go on shopping excursions with her and I definitely don’t want to exchange phone numbers and email addresses. In fact, what I really want is for her to leave me alone altogether. I want her to pretend that I don’t even exist; I want her to accept me as part of Sid’s distant past and I want her to stay the hell out of my life. And it’s not that I don’t like the girl or I find something wrong with her; she’s adorable and sweet and her staunch religious views don’t bother me in the slightest. To each his own. And I’m sure had we met under different circumstances, we would have made great friends. But the fact of the matter is that she’s my ex’s current girlfriend; we’ve both been intimate -in one way or another- with Sid and there’s just something phenomenally creepy about being BFF’s with the girl that’s taken your place.

“Erin’s just a first class bitch,” Vero says, and gives an unapologetic shrug when the woman in question glares at her. “We’re used to it now. Same way we’re used to her just inviting herself to our little girls’ nights and batting her big cow eyelashes at all of our men.”

“Marc-Andre invited Brooks,” Erin points out.

“Yes…he did…” Vero concurs. “But he was more than welcome to show up alone. Because I didn’t invite you for the simple fact that I can’t tolerate you bringing your hate and your petty bullshit drama into my house. This is a ‘welcome home, congratulations on your marriage’ party for Em; friends only. And the last time I checked the only thing you ever were to Em was a complete pain in her ass. So do me a favour, either shut your gate or get the fuck out. Those are your options.”

Peyton clears her throat noisily and Kelsey shifts uncomfortably in her chair as a heavy, tension filled silence descends on the kitchen and Vero and Erin proceed to stare each other down. It’s awkward to say the least; Icky Erin attempt to out will the heavily pregnant, ferociously stubborn French Canadian girl.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” Carlisle finally manages to not only break the silence, but force Erin to finally relinquish the death glare she’d affixed on Vero. And before I can object or jerk out of the way, she’s grabbing a hold of my left wrist, pulling my arm across my body and bringing the top of my hand towards her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an engagement ring like this before,” she says. “It’s so unique.”

“It’s our birthstones,” I explain. “Diamond for me, amethyst for my husband.”

“It’s really, really, really pretty,” she gushes. “So different. And it must mean something extra special to both of you. It’s not just some boring old diamond that every guy gives someone. Actual thought went into this.”

“First time Max’s ever thought with something other than his dick,” Erin remarks.

“Don’t be such a jealous bitch,” Vero gives an exasperated sigh. “Just because you can’t get even a cubic zirconia from Brooks and Max completely shot you down last year when your drunk, sorry ass propositioned him…”

“Ladies…” Peyton holds her hands up in a plea for peace. “…come on…let’s not do this, okay? We’re supposed to be here for Lee-Lee. It’s only her second night back in the ‘Burgh and the last thing we want is to be scaring her off; we don’t want her high tailing it back to Montreal.”

“It wouldn’t be any loss on my part,” Erin shrugs. “And let’s have this moment serve as a valuable lesson to you, Carlisle. That…” she nods at my hand. “…is what happens when you downgrade. You can kiss Em’s ass all you want and wax poetic about how romantic and thoughtful a ring like that is, but the fact of the matter is that she had to settle for something like that because she fucked up. She fucked up and had to settle for whatever she could get.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Peyton hisses, and I have to lay an arm across her chest in order to keep her in her seat and prevent her from pouncing on Erin. “What is your major malfunction?”

“Talk about tumbling off your pedestal,” Erin smirks. “Talk about winding up at the bottom of the social totem pole. Not only do you fuck another guy behind Sid’s back and go ahead and marry him when you barely know him, but you pick someone that still has one foot on the bus back to Wilkes-Barre. I just don’t get it. I just can’t understand how you could give up someone that makes nearly nine million a year for someone that barely hauls in three quarters of a mill. Kind of like having to eat chopped liver for the rest of your life when you could be feasting on steak.”

“Ask me, the chopped liver has no competition,” Vero snidely remarks. “If I had to pick and choose between the two…”

“Why don’t you keep your mouth shut?!” Erin snaps. “Why don’t you just stay out of it? Why don’t you ever let Em fight her own battles? She’s a big girl. Seeing as she’s capable of opening her legs, I’m sure she’s able to do the same with her mouth. Or is that how you sucked both Sid and Max in? Is that how you managed to land both of them? Because you’re a professional at opening both?”

“You’re such an obnoxious, vapid skank,” I swallow back the remains of my sixth martini of the night and then leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest, issue a sigh that clearly indicates my sheer boredom and disinterest in her verbal attack. I’m past giving a shit about what other people think about me; I’d made my mistakes and I’m living with the consequences and the only person I owe any explanations or apologies to is Sidney. And I fully intend on making good on my promise to at least attempt to make things right with him. Everyone else can just fuck off and mind their own business. “I find it a little hard to take criticism from a woman that brags about the fact she’s banged half the Pirates roster; who doesn’t even try and deny that the only reason she’s hooked up with a professional athlete is so she can be a kept woman and sit around on her ass all day. The quintessential bleached blond trophy wife with her carrot orange tan and her fake tits. Now that’s classy.”

“That’s rich coming from the Pittsburgh Penguins’ version of Yoko Ono,” Erin retaliates.

“Is that the best you can do?” I laugh. “That’s the best you can come up with when someone sticks up for themselves? You’re all talk, Erin. You’re all big and bad when you’ve got an audience and when you’ve got a victim that will just sit back and tolerate your shit. And if I was the same person I was five months ago, trust me, your ass would be out of that chair and you’d be on the floor. Now?” I give a shrug of disinterest. “Now I just take things from the source. And when that source is a big old pile of shit…”

“I think everyone has had way too much to drink,” Vero declares, as she pushes her chair away from the table and slowly and gingerly rises to her feet. “Everyone’s drunk and on edge and I honestly have zero fucking tolerance for this kind of bullshit. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a beached whale and I’m moody as shit. So if all of you lovely ladies wouldn’t mind just shutting the fuck up already.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” Erin says. “Just because I have the balls to say out loud what everyone is thinking…”

“What we’re thinking is that you’re a first class bitch and that you need to keep your mouth shut before someone shuts it for you,” Kelsey pipes out. “Honestly, Erin. What is wrong with you? Why’d you even come here tonight? You knew this was a coming home party for Em. Why’d you come if all you were going to do is cause trouble?”

“Because causing trouble is what she does,” Peyton sighs. “Because she loves to torment people and she lives to make everyone around her miserable. She came here solely to cause shit. And unfortunately Carlisle…” she graces Sid’s girlfriend with a sympathetic smile. “…she sucked you right in. The only reason she wanted you to come tonight was to see Em squirm.”

“She wouldn’t have anything to squirm about if she didn’t realize what a huge mistake she made,” Erin reasons. “If she didn’t already have second thoughts and regrets about what she did. It’s obvious she still has feelings for Sid and it’s also obvious that…”

“This is tiring,” Vero offers up a dramatic yawn. “This petty, drama Queen bullshit is just too much. Could we please talk about something else? Could we please not hear anymore of your divine wisdom? Because it’s just so hard knowing you’re just so much smarter than the rest of us.”

“The best part of this whole thing is that you and Carlisle actually have something in common,” Erin continues. “I mean, other than the whole Sid thing. What was it that you were telling me earlier?” she flashes the young woman beside me a sugary sweet smile. “Something about how two of your roommates at Penn State and how they…”

“It’s really not important,” Carlisle gives a nervous smile. “It has no bearing on this conversation and no one really needs to know that…”

“…both banged Max,” Erin finishes. “More than one actually. Including a time when they were all together and…”

“And that’s supposed to upset me?” I inquire. “I’m supposed to get all riled up and rip your eyes out because you just so happen to know two of the women that make up the list of women my husband has slept with? It’s a lengthy goddamn list. And if you think that it bothers me that he had a pretty wild and crazy sex life before he met me and that it hurts my feelings to hear something like this, you have another thing coming. Is that really supposed to surprise me, Erin? Am I supposed to get pissed off that he had a threesome? That’s fucking tame compared to some of the things he’s probably gotten himself involved in. So how about you just shut your gate and stop trash talking my husband before I change my mind about being so civil to you.”

“Oh isn’t that just so sweet and noble of you,” she retorts. “Defending your man’s honour like that. You certainly weren’t in such a gracious and loving mood when you fucked Max behind Sid’s back were you. You certainly didn’t seem to think twice about his honour when you slept with one of his friends and completely and utterly fucked him up. You certainly didn’t…”

“Erin…” Sid’s voice -low and almost menacing in tone- pipes up from the doorway. “…what happened between Em and I has nothing to do with you. So why don’t you just keep your nose out of our business.”

“I can’t understand why everyone is kissing her ass!” Erin exclaims. “I can’t understand why all of you think it’s okay! Especially you…” her eyes narrow and she stares pointedly at Sid as he stands in the doorway, his palms planted on either side of the wooden frame and his simple white t-shirt riding up and allowing a small peek at his rock hard abs and the sliver of the waistband of boxers as they sit just above the top of his jeans.

I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t do a little something for me; if the memories of what he looks like without a stitch of clothes on and how his muscles had felt under my explorative fingertips don’t cause my stomach to flutter and my pulse to race. It’s exceptionally difficult to erase those kinds of images from your mind.

“It’s been five months,” Sid says. “Almost six. You think it would be old news by now. I’ve gone on. Why can’t any of you? Why’s it such a scandal still? It happened. Move on. Get a life of your own instead of dwelling on mine so much.”

“Give me a break,” Erin rolls her eyes. “You’ve gone on? Are you for real? How full of shit can one person be? You like where you’re living right now, Sid? You like that nice river in Egypt you’re camped out by. You know, the one that’s called De-nial.”

“Real mature,” Vero gives a derisive snort. “We’ve lowered ourselves to grade school insults now?”

“Am I the only person who sees what is going on here?” Erin huffs. “Am I the only one who sees how these two…” she nods at Sid and then at me. “…still look at each other? Am I the only one that notices how pissed off and jealous he is that she’s with Max and how pissed off and jealous she is that he’s with Carlisle? Am I the only one with a brain here? Am I the only one who knows that this…this…this bullshit…is far from over?”

“You probably came up here for one of these,” Vero ignores the woman’s tirade entirely and presses a bottle of beer into Sid’s stomach. “A harsh price to pay for a beer, huh? Having to listen to some crazy lady go on and on and fucking on?”

He just shrugs, gives an appreciative smile as he accepts the beer and then turns on his heel and disappears from the doorway quicker than he’d appeared in it.

I don’t know what compels me to do it; what force is driving me to seize the opportunity to put things to rest once and for all. But I do know that it’s something that needs to be done; I need to at least try and make amends for all the pain that I’d caused. And before I can talk myself out of it or before anyone can stop me, I’m out of my chair and chasing after him.