Diary of the Mistress
I lie to myself every morning, looking at my reflection in the mirror and I blatantly lie. To make myself feel better, I convince my mind that what I’m doing is right. That Abraham is in love with me and will leave Kim someday.
We all know that’s a lie.
But why doesn’t that stop me? Isn’t it enough to make me move on? Of course not, perhaps I enjoy being used and ignored. Who wants that for themselves?
I fight back the urge to cry when he breaks his promises to meet me, knowing the reason he blew me off was to be with her.
I will never be her, I can’t be her, no matter how hard I try. I realize that and somehow I’ve come to terms with it. I am not Kim, but that doesn’t stop me.
When is it going to be enough?
I sit here in this empty hotel room, feeling dirty and alone on another night that he stood me up. I will expect countless phone calls from him apologizing later, excuses varying from his wife or his children needing him.
I need him.
Abraham doesn’t realize that, maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Who am I kidding? He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows what he’s doing when he meets me in this hotel room every Sunday and knows my body as if it’ll be the last time he touches a woman. Trust me, he knows.
But so do I, but I’m not the married one. So many times I try to talk myself into walking away, but then I think about what I will have without him.
I’m in love with him, with all of him, including that wedding ring. I knew what I was getting into, even though it still hurts like hell. It hurts to know I will never have him, not like I want him at least.
Sometimes I hate him; I hate him so much that I could punch him until my body grows weak. Sometimes I hate myself, most of the time.
Standing up from the bed, I slid my heels back onto my feet and walked out of the hotel room. The door closing echoed through the long hallway, my shoes clicking and clacking against the hardwood floors as I headed to the elevator.
Stepping into the cart, I looked up to see my reflection as the steel doors closed. I dropped my head, too ashamed to look at myself. The bell dinged as it stopped on the first floor, the lobby busy as I walked towards the front entrance. My purse was tucked underneath my arm, my tight black dress hugging my body just right.
I stood on the sidewalk, my arm hanging into the street, motioning for a taxi. Within a few seconds, a yellow cab pulled up in front of me, the driver leaning back and opening the back door.
“Where you going?” The Mexican man asked, his accent thick as he pushed his thick black hair back from his face.
After giving him the address to my home, I sat back in the seat and stared out the window, fighting back the tears in my eyes.
I won’t let him make me cry, not again.
With little success, the tears that were in my eyes fell down my cheeks, my chin trembling as I sat in the back seat of the dark taxi. It seemed like it took hours to get home, my head throbbing as I walked into my loft. Kicking my heels off at the door, I threw my purse on the large sectional and eased into the bedroom.
Flicking the light switch up, I unzipped my dress and slid out of it. I dug through my drawer for comfortable clothes, stepping into plaid pajama bottoms and pulling a t-shirt over my head.
Walking towards the kitchen, I opened up a cupboard and grabbed a large wine glass and sat it on the counter. Opening the bottle of wine, I poured some into the glass before going back to my bedroom.
The wine stung my glands as it slid down my throat, my head still pounded as I sat down at the top of my bed. Sitting the glass on the bedside table, I opened the top drawer and dug around until I found it.
Uncapping the ink pen, I opened up to a fresh page and pressed it to the paper.
December 18, 2011
Love, it’s confusing as hell. I wish I never met him, my heart too deep into all of this bullshit to give up now. I am so ashamed in myself, in my actions and what I’ve become. I never thought I would be this girl.
I sit alone again, another night that he disregards my feelings all together and ignores me. Acts as if I don’t exist. As if we don’t exist.
I fucking despise him. Everything about him, but then I’ll love him again in the morning. I know people will say that I don’t have the right to be mad. What the hell do they know?
They know nothing. They don’t know how he sweet talked me, steady pursuing me when I tried my best to ignore it. I tried, but I failed. His gorgeous face, perfect smile, sexy voice and amazing personality are what got me. He got me and he knew it. He got what he wanted, me.
It’s not a day that goes by where I wish this never started. Sometimes I want to tell his wife, hoping that will clear my conscious. But it won’t. It would be unfair for me to tell her, she doesn’t know that her husband is a lying cheat. Who am I to ruin her image of him? So I’m forced to live with what I’ve done.
With what I’m doing.
I walk into work every day, butterflies filled inside my stomach because I’m excited to see him. I’m not proud of that. I wish I could hate him, like really hate him. The type of hate where when he looks at me I won’t melt or the type of hate that I can ignore his charming words. The type of hate where I can walk right past him and act as if he doesn’t exist.
Why can’t I hate him?
Because I love him, I love him so much. With all my heart and every being in my body. It’s not my fault he’s married, but it’s my fault for having an affair with him. That I will take responsibility for.
I know he won’t ever leave her though, those are just silly promises he makes in the heat of the moment, only to forget what he has said minutes later. Broken promises, broken hearts.
Here I am again tonight, sipping on a glass of wine as I sit in this dark house.
Alone as usual, where I’m haunted by my own thoughts and conscious. I hate being alone, but that’s where I always find myself. No one ever stays.
Why do I expect Abraham to be any different?
Feeling my eyes growing heavy, I drank the little wine left inside the glass, closing my journal back up and sliding it into its normal spot. Standing up from the bed, I turned the light off, the bright city lights illuminating the dark bedroom.
My body shifted under the cool sheets, my head diving into the soft pillow, another night sleeping alone.
The doorbell echoing through the house woke me from my slumber, my eyes bloodshot red as I shot up in the bed. Quickly standing to my feet, I stumbled into the living room, using my fingers to tame my wild bed head. “Coming.” I hollered, my voice cracking as I rushed to the front door.
Opening the door, a man held a large bouquet of daisies in a glass vase. “Mrs. Woods?” The short white man asked, his skin red as he lifted the cap sitting on top of his messy blond hair up.
“Ms. Woods.” I quickly corrected him, crossing my arms. “Yes that’s me.”
“These.” He grunted, sweat dripping from his brow and he handed me the flowers. “Are for you.”
Getting a grip on the vase, I quickly sat them on the shelf over the fire place and rushed back over to the door. “Who are they from?” I asked, taking the pen from his hand and signing my signature on the line marked with a red ‘x’.
“I don’t know ma’am, my job is to deliver. There might be a card though.” The man with the name tag ‘Jim’ said, using the back of his hand to wipe his forehead.
“Thanks anyways.” I forced a smile onto my face, holding onto the door knob.
“Have a good day.” Jim said, quickly walking away.
“You too.” I called after him before pushing the door together.
Walking over to the living room, a small white card sat on one of the flowers, a white ribbon neatly tied around the stems. I pulled the card from the bouquet, looking down at it.
I’m sorry, I love you. XXX –AB
Taking a deep breath, I crumpled the small business card up, dropping it into the small garbage can by my desk before walking into my bedroom. From the corner of my eye, I could see my phone continuously blinking, indicating I had notifications.
Climbing onto my bed, I unplugged my phone from the charger and looked down at the screen
7 MISSED CALLS
3 TEXT MESSAGES
Opening up the texting application, I opened up the messages from Abraham, rolling my eyes as I read them.
Received: 9:37 p.m.
I’m really sorry, pls call me. I can explain it. I love you.
Received: 11:04 p.m.
Ashton, just talk to me. I didn’t blow u off, something came up. Call me.
Received: 1:43 a.m.
I can’t get u out my mind, missing u. Pls just talk to me. Love you.
Shaking my head, I deleted the whole thread, dialing my voicemail and putting the phone to my ear. I deleted the voice messages from Abraham without listening, knowing exactly what he’d be saying.
I’m tired of that same bullshit; his usual lines are growing old.
I had been cooped up in my office all day, attempting to make as little contact with Abraham as possible. I tapped my pen on the glass desk, taking a deep breath as I finally finished the last details for the party tonight. The label was throwing a party for our newest artist, Tyga, tonight, all the last minute preparations my responsibility.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced over at the clock to see that it was still early. Since I had nothing else on my schedule today, I decided to go home early, packing my bag up and logging out of my computer.
Standing to my feet, I slid the chair into the empty space of the desk and looped the purse over my shoulder. Before walking out of the office, I grabbed the folder from the file cabinet and held it in my hand. Stopping at the receptionists’ desk, I slid the folder to her. My heart began to pound in my chest as I saw him from the side of my eye, his feet moving fast on the dark wood floors.
“Here you go, Peg. These are the files that you wanted.” I quickly said, turning my heels and moving towards the glass door in attempt to dodge him.
“Ashton!” Abraham called behind me, his breathing heavy.
Pressing my lips together, I reluctantly turned around to face him.
“Can I talk to you for a minute.” He asked, straightening up the skinny tie hanging around his neck.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m in a rush, I’ve got a hair appointment.” I lied, gripping tight onto the strap hanging across my chest. “Sorry.” I flashed a fake smile, trying to seem as normal as possible so that Peg wouldn’t notice any tension.
Abraham knew though.
I sat at the bar, sticking to my rule of no alcohol as I worked, a glass of cold water sweating in front of me. The music blared throughout the club, people on the dance floor, grinding against each other. The whole night I had managed to avoid running into Abraham, knowing the he has for sure been looking for me.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, turning around to see him standing there, my face instantly growing hard. Looking to the side, I noticed Tyga standing next to him with a tall light skinned guy.
“Hey, Ashton.” Tyga said, leaning in and wrapping his arm around me. “I wanted to introduce you and Abraham to my friend, Chris.” He mumbled, his gold chain bumping against me as he stood back up. “Chris this is Ashton, Ashton this is Chris.”
“’Sup.” Chris said, his skin bright yellow, tattoos neatly placed on his skinny yet toned body. He didn’t even bother to look at me, his eyes glued on some girl with a big ass and fake weave.
Feeling as if he didn’t care anyways, I stood up from the seat and held onto my purse. “Excuse me, I’m going to the ladies room.” I said, softly touching Tygas’ arm before brushing past Abraham and walking towards the bathroom.
Walking into the stall, I closed and locked it. Instead of sitting, I stood, not even having to use the restroom, I just needed to get away from him. My eyes began to sting as I pressed them tight together, feeling water beginning to form.
Being strong is hard. Eventually you break.
You always break.
Quickly pulling myself together, I used my fingers to wipe the corners of my eyes, taking a deep breath. Unlocking the door, I felt my body being pushed back in, looking up to see Abrahams’ face.
He flipped me around, his strong arms on my waist as he pushed us against the locked door. I could feel his warm breath hitting my lips as he stared into my eyes. The strong face I had just put on quickly melted away, slowly exhaling as water escaped from my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Abraham whispered, his brows low and relaxed. “I’m sorry.”
My hands gripped onto his dark sweater, watching as his lips moved. In that moment, I felt like I couldn’t speak. My throat suddenly growing dry, my lips sealed tight. I wanted to curse him, to slap him or to just walk away.
I couldn’t though.
I let him press his lips to mine, soft moans escaping into his mouth. He began to run his rough hands under my sequenced dress, softly stroking the skin in the middle on my thighs.
Just by his touch I felt myself growing hot, tingles shooting throughout my body with every kiss.
He always does this.
Beginning to grow frustrated, I quickly shoved him off of me, Abraham losing his balance and placing his hands on both sides of the stall walls. “Please baby.” He whispered, standing back up straight and cupping my face in his large hands.
“Where were you?” I asked, quickly wiping the corners of my lips.
“Ashton, please don’t.” Abraham dropped his head, lifting back up and pressing his forehead to mine.
“Where were you?” My tone was a lot more forceful, my hands pushing him away again.
“Kim-.” He sighed, scratching the side of his full beard. “She got tickets to the Lion King show. I coul-.”
Before he could finish, my hand flew across his face, the slap echoing through the empty bathroom. Abraham clutched onto his cheek, looking up at me with shock in his eyes. I didn’t allow him time to speak or explain, opening up the stall and rushing out of the bathroom.
I could hear him calling me as the door shut, the loud music concealing it. Looking up, I felt eyes on me.
My heart dropped as I looked up to see who was watching.