Going to California

From his place in the doorway, he watched in mute horror as his fiancée cheated on him. She was crying out in pleasure, her back arched gracefully as she rode the stranger that was lying in his bed. He couldn’t make out who the person was, the crack in the door wasn’t wide enough for him to see, but he could see her perfectly. He could see how her golden blonde hair bounced wildly behind her, how her recently purchased breast hardly moved. He could see it all. Yet, he could not bring himself to believe it. His heart refused to let his mind believe that the woman whom he was due to marry in a month’s time, would be doing him ill. She wasn’t that sort of person. She was the type that heavily criticized celebrities for cheating on their spouses, claiming that they had no morals or respect. But there she was, doing exactly what she had so ardently spoken against.

And as he stood there, eyes firmly fixed on the scene unfolding before him, he couldn’t help but wonder that perhaps he was meant to be acting differently than he currently was. He shouldn’t have just been standing there, hiding behind their handcrafted bedroom door. He should’ve stormed into their bedroom with a look of extreme displeasure across his freshly shaven face, he should’ve yelled at her for having betrayed him, and to the stranger – to the stranger, he should’ve delivered a steady stream of punches. That was the expected reaction for a man to have, for anyone to have. But for some reason, he found himself unable to do so. Did he feel betrayed? Of course, he did. Was he heated? Yes. More heated than he had ever been in his life, but he was not a confrontational man; at least not outside the courtroom or his office.

In those two realms, he was a fierce debater that used words as his weapons, and almost always, he came out victorious in his cases. There he was fierce. Yet the same could not be said for his personal life. In there, the fierce man was replaced by a timid one, by a soft spoken one that found no greater pleasure than those afforded by a glass of wine and an engaging novel. He was bookish. Those that knew him intimately were well aware of that. And his fiancée – his beloved Cassandra had always said that that was one of the things she liked best about him. Maybe she liked his timid nature, because she was naturally very assertive and enjoyed getting her way with him. Being with him was easy. They hardly ever quarreled, always went on the holidays she liked best and overall, it was very nice to know that she’d always have her way.

So why would she cheat on him? Why would she put everything on the line to shag some bloke in their bed? He wracked his mind for an answer. Hoping that somewhere, he’d see that he had done something truly stupid that would push her into the arms of someone else, but no! Try as he did, he could not find fault with his conduct. He’d acted as he’d always acted. There was nothing different in his conduct towards her. He was the same. He was considerate, he was timely, he always phoned ahead if he was going to be stuck at the office late and he always, always brought her flowers on Mondays. He had not been in the wrong. And the more he thought of it. The angrier he grew. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this. He deserved better.

With that thought, he took in a sharp breath, rallying whatever courage he could muster and then . . . then he threw the door open. In films, this was the moment where the wronged lover, bellowed something truly profound, something that would rattle their unfaithful lover to the core. He tried to do that. That is to say, he wanted to. He thought it wouldn’t be so difficult, that it would come to him in the moment. His lips parted. This was it. He was going to say something profound, like the actors in those films he’s seen. The word began to form and before he knew it, he was speaking. Though, his word was not profound or smooth, and in all honesty, it couldn’t really be counted as a word

All he managed to say was an unimpressive, very rattled, “Oi!”

That was when Cassandra realized he was there. Immediately, she leapt off the man that she had met over drinks during her lunch break, and began frantically searching for her clothes. About a meter away from her, she found the discarded navy blue dress that she’d worn to work and slipped it back on, hoping that now that she was clothed, she’d be able to fix the mess she’d made.

“Sebastian,” she croaked out. “I-I'm so sorry. Please, believe me. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He held his hand up, eyes closed as he did so. “Didn’t mean for me to find out that you’d shagged some bloke in our bed?”

“Yes. NO!” she shouted. “I didn’t mean for this to happen at all, but we were having drinks and one thing led to another. Isn’t that right –” she tried to remember his name, yet for the life of her, couldn’t.

“You don’t even know his bloody name?!” roared Sebastian, his nostrils flared.

“Don’t yell at me like that!” she cried.

“You’ve just gone and shagged someone in our BED, a month before OUR wedding and you’re telling me not to yell?” tears begun sting at his eyes. “To hell with you!” he declared. “I want you out.”

“No!” she ran to him, completely forgetting that the stranger was still in the room with them. “You don’t mean that. You’re just mad. That’s it. Just a little cross with me, but once we talk things through – figure this out, you’ll feel differently!” she cried frantically as she clung to his arm.

“Talk things through?” he met her gaze.

She nodded eagerly, not so much wanting to keep him out of love, but out of necessity. It was him that financially supported her. She worked, but it was only a part time position as a receptionist. He was the one that paid for her clothes, her cars, her trips, and she wasn’t about to lose him.

“There’s nothing to talk through.”

“But Sebastian!” she cried. “We’re getting married in a month!”

“Were,” he corrected, his voice shaking.

“Everything’s ready, though. You can’t. No! You can’t ruin this.”

“Me?” he stepped away from her, freeing himself from her grasp. “I haven’t done a thing to ruin this. I gave you my heart on a silver platter, I did. You wanted this house. I bought this house. Bloody hate it, I do, but you wanted it, and I bought it. I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked me to. I’ve been everything . . .” his voice cracked. “This is your doing, Cassie. The moment you picked him up,” he pointed to the dark haired man that was struggling to pull on his trousers. “You ruined us. So I suggest you get your things together and leave. And I'm only talking about the things you bought. Your clothes, your shoes, your . . . well, that’s it. That’s all you own. So pack it up and get out. And don’t even think about taking the car. It’s not yours. I bought that car. It’s under my name, just like this house. So if you take it or if ya think you can stay here, know that I’ll have the police pop by.”

“Doesn’t have to be like this . . .” she whimpered. “We can work it out. Make things right . . . it’ll take awhile, course it will, but it’ll work. Just don’t give up on us, Sebastian!”

He turned to walk away.

“Don’t you love me?” she cried in one last desperate attempt to change his mind.

He stopped in the doorway, head turning slightly to the right and over his shoulder, he whispered, “I do.”

“That’s good! That means –”

“But I don’t know what its worth.” Sebastian whispered.