Ian Matters

I hear it from somewhere to my right when the apartment door flies open and in comes Sal, “Married.” I turn my head toward her and she is standing there, hand gripping the edge of the door. Her clothes are a mess all over her and she looks particularly miserable in her face – somewhere between tears and anger.

I fidget a bit and scratch my head, frightened a bit by her expression – it's not a good time for anyone when Sal is angry. “Pardon?”

“Robert is fucking married.” She shoves at me through grit teeth, slamming the door so hard that I jump a bit. I will openly admit, when this happened I was a bit hopped up on pain killers, so it's safe to say it was the happiest I'd been since I fell off that table at that party. I was unprepared for Sal ruining my good time this soon into it. I was high and I had a bowl of mint chocolate ice cream – things were good up until now.

“So?” I blink and give myself another spoonful of delicious ice cream – I'm not too concerned honestly, and with good reason. Sal has burst in and announced something like this to me too many times in the past and it's never been pretty. At first I reacted as any normal person would, but I've grown tired of how often it seems to happen; I'm not going to waste the energy on acting surprised, it's all routine now. She comes home angry about something, and then she calls Frank and they have very loud sex in her bedroom and by then I am far too tired to leave the apartment to save myself from the emotional scarring. “It hasn't stopped you before. Why are you so angry?”

“Why am I so angry?” She stomps over, slams her purse down hard on the coffee table and sits down on the edge of the couch beside me, her jaw tense. I realize then I probably shouldn't have asked. It's going to start a whole thing and I'm not going to be able to stop it. I offer her my half finished bowl of ice cream and she snatches it from me without hesitation, scooping a big spoonful and shoving it into her mouth. “I go to his house and we're in his fucking kitchen and I'm so close, so fucking close – I am literally mere minutes from him fucking me on the counter,” She's talking very slowly and very deeply, emphasizing each word. I would've taken it more seriously if her mouth weren't full of ice cream that she still hadn't swallowed. “I am horny as fuck and I'm laying down flat on the counter and she comes home just as he's going down on me-- I am going to fucking scream.”

“Because he lied?” She swallows hard.

“Because I was so close to finally fucking him.” She growls slow, “I've been waiting for so long--”

“Seven weeks--”

“I have spent so much damn time courting this motherfucker, working so hard to get something from him.” Her shoulders are tight and she's gripping the bowl and spoon in her lap hard, I'm almost scared she's going to smash them on the floor so, gently, I reach out and pry them away from her stiff hands. She doesn't notice, and continues to stare angrily at the wall across from her. I look at her and blink, sticking another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

“What did his wife do when she saw you?”

I see the way she closes her eyes and visibly tries to keep herself from strangling me, exhaling a deep, tense sigh, “I'm going to call Frank.” She gets up, snatches her purse off the table and stomps away to her bedroom.

After I hear her door slam shut after her it's hard for me to determine wether or not I feel bad for her and wether or not I should. Sal gets herself into these situations. Willingly she's had sex with guys before that she knew were unavailable. She doesn't care. Does that mean I shouldn't either, when the situation turns on her and spits in her face? I'm finding it difficult to feel bad for her.