Bittersweet

~~ Spoiled Shoes ~~

Under duress of my shaking body, I made it back to the car. Stomach cramping, head throbbing. I would need to calm myself before I drove home.

Home... ha! For how much longer? ...You and Ava can stay in the house for now.

The burning anger returned. Every word stung, suddenly reigniting the flames inside of me. "Screw you Tony Valentino and screw your whole goddamn family!" Groaning with the added knowledge, I would need to find us somewhere to live.

One problem at a time, Jenna.

Shit. I had another problem.

Shit, shit, double shit. I frantically looked over my hands, arms, shoulder... Keys—Bag?  What the hell had happened to my bag? My breathing once again elevated. I'd dropped it—back there. I was about to have a full-blown panic attack.

What could I do? I couldn't bear to look at Tony and his... his... whatever she was... hussy, husband stealer, marriage wrecker... TRAMP!

I felt wretched, slumping against my car. Fresh tears heated my cheeks. This couldn't be happening. How could I have not known my husband had another woman—and she was carrying his child?

What was wrong with me?  Why was I not enough for him?

I thought about the many weekends he had to 'work.' All the late nights. Yeah, right? How could I have not known he was cheating? And how long was this going on for?  Was I that stupid? —Apparently so.

No, I was just too damn trusting. My brain took the next opportunity to throw another spanner my way—STD's

Shit! I would need to get tested.  Bastard!  I gritted my teeth, focusing on my anger. Anything was better than the sick feeling or panic. Anger was good, necessary.

My husband was a liar and a cheat and having a baby with some tramp. He didn't deserve my tears.

Niggling doubts seeped through the cracks of my fragile mind. My stomach plummeted. Was it my fault?

I shook my head. No! I had done everything within my power to make our marriage work. I just wasn't enough.

Had he ever loved me?

Stop it, Jenna. Just get back to Janelle's and down an enormous glass of wine, in fact screw the glass, drown in the bottle.

Pushing off my car, I turned, standing helplessly looking at my car hoping magically it would open, brushing more tears from my damp cheeks. I felt exhausted with the constant changing of my mood and the distress of forgetting my bag.

But there was no way in hell I was heading back up into that room. I would rather suffer the blisters that would not doubt appear once I walked the approximately seventeen miles back to Janelle's house.

Looking down at my shoes, one covered in my own vomit, I cursed over and over.

"Jenna?" My head snapped up. There it was... that voice, the same voice. I swiped my hand across my cheek, took a deep breath and slowly turned. Blinking away fresh tears, I cleared my throat, attempting to steady my voice, hoping whoever it was wouldn't noticed the tremor. "H—hello." I swallowed hard as a familiar face came into view. "Gabriele?" My voice croaked as a tiny bubble of hope nudged past the heartache. Was that my bag?  Yes!

"My bag! Oh my god, thank you. I can't honestly thank you enough, Gabriele. You've saved my life!" Yes, an exaggeration, but the relief was there.

"Yeah, I thought you might need it." His voice was deep, rough but calming. He held out at arm's length for me to take, his face curiously watching me.