Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

After work, Ben and I went out together for a couple of beers, some slices of pizza, and to watch whatever local sporting event was on TV at the pizzeria that evening. I know people from New York say the pizza is better, but I’m a Chicago girl and I think that our town has the best pizza of anywhere in the entire world. Ben doesn’t have an opinion, mainly because he’ll stuff his face with just about anything he can get his hands on. I had eaten two slices of the supreme we had ordered and Ben was almost done polishing off the rest of the pie when the bell above the pizzeria door clanged so loudly I was instinctively drawn to look and see who was entering into the place.

I wish I hadn’t.

It was Jon. A fantastic, strikingly handsome, totally not regretting having cheated on me as I had always hoped, Jon. Not only was Jon looking better than I’d ever remembered him looking but he had a girl on his arm. A girl I recognized whose name was Marigold and she was supposed to be some huge model from Chicago who had made it big on some reality TV show about models. My stomach dropped and I felt like someone had just punched me in the gut.

When I pictured seeing Jon again, I had always seen myself in some beautiful gown and he was dressed like a bum and he was begging me to take him back while I had twelve or so handsome, wealthy bachelors begging me to take them out. And then I would tell Jon exactly what I thought of him and then he would be so depressed that he had lost me, the one woman he was capable of loving, and would off himself or something.

I didn’t picture him waltzing in on the arm of some fabulous model in a nice crisp shirt and slacks while I sat in a booth, wearing an old concert t-shirt and jeans next to Ben, who was wearing a vintage Nirvana shirt, holy jeans, and had tomato sauce splayed across most of his face.

“What’s eating you?” Ben asked, though it sounded more like “Whaftsseafingfoo?” because he had pizza in his mouth.

I looked down at my empty plate because I wasn’t about to tell Ben what was going on. I wasn’t even sure if I could do so with a steady voice. He looked up anyway and I saw his eyes narrow on Jon and Marigold as they were lead to a booth not far from hers. Ben swallowed his food and turned to me.

“What’s that ass doing here?”

“It’s a free country,” I mumbled.

“You wanna go home?” Ben asked me curiously.

“Yeah, so we can walk by their table,” I snorted. Ben scowled in Jon’s direction and then went back to consuming the rest of the pizza like it was his last meal.

“I thought he moved out of Chicago,” Ben commented after a few minutes.

“He did,” I said, annoyed. “Apparently, he’s back.”

“Hopefully he’ll be out of here before seven,” Ben frowned

“Why seven?” I asked him confused.

“Because we have to leave home at seven so I can get home in time for CSI,” Ben replied.

“The entire point of coming out here to eat pizza was because you didn’t want to spend another evening at home watching TV!” I hissed at Ben.

“I forgot tonight was CSI,” Ben shrugged.

“You’re insufferable,” I said angrily.

“Hey, you were having a great time out here until Captain Heartbreak and Slutty McSidekick strolled in the door,” Ben snorted, “and I think you should continue to have a good time afterward. Besides, I hear she has herpes or something.”

“You made that up,” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I could Photoshop herpes onto her face it you want,” Ben suggested.

“I think I’m good,” I sighed.

I decided to become extremely fascinated with the glass of soda I was sipping since I had switched off beer for fear if I got too drunk I might let Ben repeat his performance our first night in Acapulco. While I was stirring my straw around to make caffeine bubbles, I didn’t notice that Marigold had gotten up to go to the ladies room and when she had done so, Jon’s line of vision watching her butt sway back and forth went in our direction. Then he saw us. Or rather, he saw Ben shooting a spitball through a straw back at the eight year old in the booth behind us. I was about to give Ben a lecture on how he was twenty-six, not six when I looked up to see a very pleased with himself Jon standing in front of our booth.

“What are the odds that my first week back in Chicago I run into you two?” Jon beamed warmly, almost as if he didn’t remember he’d cheated on me with enough women to form his own football team.

“I don’t know,” I said to him coldly. “What are the odds of getting bitten by a shark?”

“You’re still funny, Catt,” Jon chuckled a little.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I frowned. Jon wasn’t getting the hint that his reception at our table was going to be less than warm.

“So, Jon,” Ben asked him cheerfully. “Humped anything interesting lately?” Jon, as usual, was taken aback by Ben’s inability to censor himself.

“Well…if you must know…” Jon began.

“A fire hydrant. I knew it,” Ben nodded. “Catt, you owe me a fiver.”

“I was talking more about…Marigold…” Jon said to Ben scathingly.

“As in the model?” Ben said in a whistle.

“Impressive?” Jon smirked.

“No. Brave,” Ben shook his head. “You do know she has herpes, right? She had to cancel one of the photo sessions they were doing with her because she had an outbreak or something.” Jon’s face fell a little. “I’m sure it’s not that serious…”

“So, Ben,” Jon said to him scathingly, “how are your parents?”

“Still alive, poor me,” Ben smiled. Another spitball landed near Ben from the kid in the next booth. “Alright. That’s it.” Ben positioned his straw to aim back, and not thinking which hand I was reaching over with, I grabbed the hand Ben had on his straw to stop him.

“Quite being so childish,” I hissed at him, catching out of the corner of my eye that Jon had a surprised look on his face. I wasn’t sure what had caused Jon to freak out, then I realized he had noticed my wedding ring.

“So…the two of you…” Jon stammered.

“We what?” Ben asked, then noticing what Jon was staring at, broke into a smile. “Oh yeah. We got married. It’ll be three weeks on Saturday actually.”

“Wait,” Jon said in disbelief, turning to me. “You married him?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. Then Jon started to laugh almost maniacally.

“What’s so funny?” Ben demanded to know.

“It’s just…” Jon laughed, “Catt, you got so pissed because I was a guy and I wanted to spread my wild oats and there you were giving me all these lectures about fidelity… like we were engaged or something… You just hopped at the first thing that proposed to you didn’t you? Are you that afraid of being alone that you’d rebound on and then marry this guy? I mean, you could have done a lot better…”

“Do you wanna take this outside pencil dick?” Ben asked him furiously.

“It’s not that small,” Jon hissed.

“Let me guess? It was just cold in the room?” I snorted. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Marigold having herpes considering that it’s the reason I only slept with you once.”

“Once?” Ben said to me curiously.

“You liked it,” Jon said to me.

“It’s called faking,” I snorted.

“I hope the two of you have a great time of it,” Jon said to us angrily. “I can’t think of two more suited pathetic losers.” He turned and walked back to his table where he grabbed his jacket and left Marigold to pay.

“Once?” Ben said. “I thought the two of you…”

“Once,” I admitted. “He was…bad… phenomenally bad.”

“And you wanted to marry him, knowing how phenomenally bad he was?” Ben asked me with a raised eyebrow.

“That was before I found out how phenomenally bad he was,” I admitted sheepishly. Ben laughed for a while at that, not even paying any attention to the spitballs flying in his direction.

“So I guess Jon hates me now because I married you,” Ben shrugged. “I don’t mind being your rebound guy.”

“Good, because I have something to come clean about,” I said to Ben.

“I remember what happened the night you broke up with him,” Ben said, as if he never wanted to forget.

“Not that,” I blushed, “Actually, when Jon and I got into that big fight… I told him you and I had been doing what we ended up doing that night for months before… I was just mad and wanted to hurt him like he had hurt me… So I guess he’s hated you a little bit before now because he actually believed me…”

“It’s okay Catt,” Ben grinned. “I don’t mind being the sleazy rebound guy you cheated on your ex-boyfriend with.”

“Good,” I smiled, “oh and Ben?”

“Yeah?” he asked me hopefully.

“Next week, we’re staying home.”