"No, please don't... " The call ended before she wanted. She slammed her phone on the desk next to the television and walked away from it. After a brief pause, ten seconds at best, she jogged back across the room and picked it up. A text message might be more appropriate?
BRANDI: I love you, Rick. Please call me back. I don't understand why you are doing this? WTF? Call me back. Please!!!
She started to hit the send button then paused. Her mind raced with a million fleeting thoughts that accumulated in her mind whenever it was decision-making time, like a pitcher in the bottom of the ninth inning deciding on the next pitch. In moments of total indecision, like this one, she asked herself the question scrawled on a nearby notepad on her mirror: WWDJD - "what would Dr. Jennings do?"
She watched the letters fade one by one as she pressed and held down the backspace key on her phone. On instinct, she deleted his contact information. It was a disposable phone, a burner as the kids called it, with no way of anyone finding out about their phone conversation or texts. She deleted his information, just the same, taking the same precautions she had always been advised to take. Deleting their communication trail was how he wanted it. Private. Confidential. "CIA style," he always told her, followed by a musk scented kiss.
She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair as a forced breath of air blew past her lips. She had kept his identity confidential. To her friends it was sexy, they told her, but still advised her that this kind of situation would not end well. Deep down inside she knew it would end as they predicted, but she wanted to prove them wrong. Maybe that was why it still hurt. She hadn't prepared for this moment; that's why it hurt so quickly. The pain was deepened with each second inside her gut, pushing away all other thoughts like a snow plow in a blizzard.
She walked across the dorm room and looked into her mirror. Had it come to this? Really? Why wasn't she good enough? Why did those you love the most leave you? Why didn't he show any indication he was going to break up with her? How come he continued to have sex with me? The questions hit her all at once while any answers fled the scene like a scared flock of gazelles. Staring at her reflection always provoked the same questions, those same self-analytical thoughts that had most searching for answers by logging into Amazon for the latest self-help book. She took another deep breath and blew it out. Her lips made a perfect O. The same lips that had kissed his lips a dozen times.
"OK, Brandi, you can do this," she said to herself. Her therapist said it was healthy to talk to herself. After the many times she had struggled, a tool Dr. Jennings recommended was called "private speech." At least that was the conventional term for it. As a child she thought it was surely a sign of insanity, talking to herself, but she found herself a regular practitioner as of late. And right now a form of that, outer dialog, was coming out past her mouth and into the empty room. The more she conveyed outward what was happening on the inside, the good doctor told her, the more it was supposed to help.
Supposed to. But she was struggling on this occasion and for good reason. She got dumped. But not just dumped. There was more to it than that.
"He's so handsome," she said aloud to the mirror as tears welled up in her eyes. "Remember the way he looked that night? He looked at me. At me." she closed her eyes. "I looked good that night too. I felt grown up for the first time. Sophisticated. Like he liked."
She laid down on her bed and re-imagined that night again. The night she met him.
It was a night of impersonations, a night of fun and a night of facades. She had been dating another then. His name was Craig, and they were an item for the previous four months. When Craig asked her to the symphony, she could hardly believe it. The symphony wasn't her scene, and not his either by his admission. But it was a playful time, they agreed, a time for both of them to act older than they were. They wanted to pretend a little and best of all, to get away from others their age.
On top of it all, Craig had a hunch his girlfriend was holding back. Just 18, he encouraged Brandi's friends to doll her up for the occasion. He had a sneaky suspicion there was a diamond in the rough beneath her jeans and t-shirt wardrobe. The symphony was the perfect vehicle he needed to pull her out of the same old same old. Of course, some booze was helpful as well. Craig was 22 and old enough to drink. That had been a bonus for her, besides his looks. Although she was 18, she looked more than 21, making it easy to drink alcohol when she was around him. Going out with Craig was validation for her, not only that she could drink, but that she was good enough, in general.
They arrived at the Fat Ox for dinner that night and sat at the bar waiting for their table. Above the sounds of utensils on plates and the soft chatter of patrons, the smooth jazzy sounds of Diana Krall could be gently heard. Brandi liked her music, nodding her head to the beat. As the bartender came around, Craig ordered them both a glass of wine and looked around the room. He smiled to himself, noticing the not so subtle glances and attention his date was attracting. Being with Brandi had never been a chore, but she kept to herself more than he cared. Unaware of her appearance, her outward beauty when dolled up was breathtaking, especially during a special occasion like that night. The low-cut red dress Brandi had borrowed not only revealed her generous cleavage but set her apart. She was a shining beacon to a room full of old boats. With her Prada high heels on, compliments of Janeen down the hall, she grew three inches. Anyone with bets on the table would assume she was beyond her college years. As she turned to face Craig and crossed her legs, he noticed the slit in her dress was appropriate enough to attract even more glances, especially his.
"This place is beautiful," Brandi said admiring the dark wood tones and low lighting. No one had ever taken her to a place like that. She was more at home with fast food, tacos and eating on plastic trays.
"It's quite the place, huh? A beautiful restaurant for a beautiful lady. You look stunning, Brandi. You do." She blushed. "Hey, do you mind if I use the bathroom?"
"No, of course not," she replied. "Just text me if you aren't feeling well in there, OK? I'll understand. I don't want you getting sick again."
"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this time with you for the world."
Craig was coming off of the flu and still didn't feel that well. But he didn't want to pass on the free tickets he had received. She appreciated his sacrifice, a demonstration to her that she meant something to him. She watched him work his way through the standing-room-only bar crowd and then returned to her drink.
As she lifted the glass to her lips, she felt someone staring at her. The hair on her neck started to rise. As her gaze shifted to the right, she found the culprit standing near the outside edge where the bar hooked around. A woman apparently older than Brandi was talking to the tall man, but he was too busy looking at Brandi. As her eyes met his, she glanced away out of a strange fear as if she had invaded a private conversation. When she glanced back, his eyes lifted from the woman in front of him back to her again. His gaze invited her in, reminding her of a 20th-century vampire movie Craig took her to the previous week.
The tall man lifted his glass to his lips, and after he had taken a drink, he gave a slight nod to her. She turned around, certain he was looking at someone behind her. Not finding anyone behind her, she looked back in his direction. He was gone. She searched the crowd, wondering how she could overlook a man of his stature, even in a populated area. Unannounced, she felt a caress on her left arm.
"Can I ask you a silly question?" She smiled.
"Yes."
"Was it your idea or his to go to the symphony tonight? Personally, I have you pegged as a jazz fan myself." It was the man from across the bar, and now he was standing next to her. Had he been listening to her conversation with Craig? And if so, for how long? Regardless, she couldn't help but smile from the attention of this handsome man. Despite the aromas coming from the kitchen, she could still smell his musky scent, the one she took with her from that day forward. He wore a gray suit and tie. What also won her over was his hair. Cut in choppy fashion and slightly messed up, it was more suitable to guys her age. But it endeared her to him just the same.
"I apologize. I caught you off guard. I should have started off less assuming." He held out his hand as he put his drink down next to hers. "Hi, my name is Rick."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude. Um, I'm Brandi," she said and smiled back. "I must confess you have caught me off guard, Rick. How did you know I'm going to the symphony?" It must be the dress, she thought. Or perhaps it's the small distance between the restaurant and the symphony just around the corner?
He laughed.
"Well, I love a good magic trick as much as the next guy, but I cannot tell a lie." He pointed at her wine glass and the tickets right beside it. She joined him in laughing, feeling a guilty twinge within her. Her breath caught, and she took a quick sip of her wine as she quickly looked away. A smile brightened her formerly mystified face as she glanced up at him. He was handsome across the bar. Close up, he was even better. She secretly hoped his eyes were on the menu. He wore a smile as well, but his eyes took her in more fully.
"I was looking at your necklace," he said, catching himself and weakly recovering. "It is stunning. Goes remarkably well with your dress. But I'm told it's not always the dress that makes the woman, but the woman who makes the dress."
She knew he was lying about the necklace, but she didn't care. He was looking at her cleavage, like many other men she caught in the mirror across from the bar. The gap of her dress had opened a bit further, revealing more cleavage than she was normally comfortable. Looking across to the mirror she saw herself, a similar version of Kate Upton from that app game commercial. She looked as she felt, at least 25, caught in the game of attraction with a man she'd never met. It was all very exciting for a shy college freshmen.
"Rick's not your real name, is it?" She said this abruptly but slowly, drawing a circle with her finger around the edge of her wine glass. His eyes looked alarmed for just a second and then he quickly composed himself.
"Why Brandi," he paused, "or is it Brandi?"
"So I'm right?"
"Does it matter?" he asked. At first she was suspicious, but she admitted to herself that his manner of gameplay was not something she was used to. Perhaps this was the way adult men behaved. It was oddly attractive to her.
"No I guess not since I don't know you. Rick." She paused and enunciated his name for impact as he smiled and sipped his drink. "But since you've already revealed your first trick and my date is due back from the bathroom, I'm curious if you have any other tricks you want to share?"
"Well, that depends on something."
"Depends on what, exactly?"
"Depends on how much magic you enjoy." He reached out his hand giving her the impression he was going to caress her cheek. Instead he extended it, as she felt the soft touch of his hand on her ear. She felt a shiver through her body, and she watched as he retracted her hand. He opened his hand, revealing the small flower of a red rose.
Her surprised smile changed to nervousness as she caught the image of Craig returning from the bathroom. She shifted her body slightly, adjusted the neckline of her dress, and took a small sip of her wine.
"Sorry I took so long," Craig said as he looked first at Brandi then to the strange man talking to his girlfriend. "Who's your friend?"
Rick extended his hand to Craig.
"Hello there, I'm Rick and I was just..."
Brandi cut him off as they shook hands.
"He was just showing me a magic trick." She showed Craig the flower.
"It appears my party is waving me back, so I must be off," Rick said. "It was nice meeting both of you. Perhaps we'll have the good fortune of meeting again."
The hostess came to let them know their table was ready. As they followed her from the bar to the restaurant side, Brandi turned around. Rick was back with the group where she first saw him. He took a drink from his glass. As he laughed at a joke, his eyes darted around and landed on hers as though he knew she was looking at him. He set the glass down, keeping his eyes locked on her and smiled. He gave that slight nod that she would grow accustomed to and slowly turned back to his party. She turned back around and followed Craig to their table. As they sat down, the hostess set their menus in front of them.
"Our special tonight is the veal parmesan," she said, "and Rebecca will be your server. Enjoy your meal."
They both thanked her and as soon as Craig started studying his menu, Brandi anxiously looked up for one more glance at Rick. Craig saw the direction of her stare.
He was gone.
She quickly recovered, making mention of the Cardinals baseball game that was on.
"I was just thinking how I wish Pujols were still with the Cards this year, sorry." Craig smiled.
"I didn't know you were into baseball. Yeah, I miss that guy too. I'll have to take you to a game sometime."
"I'd like that," she said, but she knew it was a lie.
The symphony was well attended and the performance, dedicated to the music of Rachmaninoff, was flawlessly emulated by the well trained team of musicians. Craig put his arm around her, and as she crossed her leg, the slit in her dress opened back up as he hoped it would. She placed her hand on his leg, providing a quick and appreciative notion she was enjoying the evening, but her thoughts wandered somewhere else. Rather, to someone else.
The two-hour concert provided Brandi ample time to reflect back on her dinner, but more so around the conversation with Rick. She could still smell him, and the memory of his words echoed in her head. What was it about him that stuck in her thoughts? What would it be like to place her hand on his leg? How often would he take her to the symphony and many other places? And it would be with more than just free tickets? She could tell he was a man of some stature. Perhaps that was more of his swagger, but she didn't think so. His age, almost father-like, made her feel safe at that moment. She knew she wanted more, even if Craig was sitting right next to her. She felt ashamed, but it was too late. She had already taken a bite of the apple.
She couldn't shake that last look in his eyes when she turned around. He had been watching her as she walked to her table. When she looked back, he had been looking at her. Just at her. Even though it was her eyes, she didn't care if it had been elsewhere. Her dress showed more cleavage, however for him she wanted to show more than her breasts. She fanned her face with her free hand, suddenly warm. Where were these thoughts coming from, she asked herself.
The last words he spoke played out in her head over and over again. Perhaps we'll have the good fortune of meeting again. She was still a virgin, with ample encouragement from her mom. But for him, and out of her mom's supervision, she was willing to give it all up.
Dr. Jennings had told Brandi that the absence of her father at a young age was common, how it put her in the position of seeking the approval of men, especially those older than her. And that much was true as she thought back. Craig was her senior by a few years. But Rick was certainly older too - at least in his late 30's, maybe even into his 40's. She wasn't sure, but it was plain to see he took good care of himself. She denied the notion of his age in her head. She wasn't drawn to him because he was a father figure; she said in her head. She felt at that moment that he was more than that. He wasn't a boy. Craig was 22 but clearly unsure of his future. Rick was established. Confident. Handsome. She wanted to find out more.
She let Craig get to a little more than 2nd base that night when he dropped her off at the dorm. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, pretending it was Rick. She opened the door to let him in and asked if he would unzip her dress. As it fell past her shoulders, she turned around, allowing Craig to take her in. This newfound sense of adventure, of being attractive, filled her like a new drug. Her roommate had walked in on them before, and she did that night once again, to Craig's profound regret. Brandi was secretly happy, however. She wasn't sure if she would have had the discipline to stop the foreplay that night. But one thing was for sure as Craig left. Even though she had spent the entire evening with him, his wasn't the cologne she smelled as she snuggled into bed. She smelled Rick's.
Brandi pulled back from that memory not so long ago, from the mirror's image as well as she sorted through her thoughts. She curled into a fetal position as she closed her teary eyes. She remembered more in her mind, about the next night. How she had pushed Craig's calls to the side so she could drive downtown. Going by the Fat Ox, she circled it a few times, wondering if he was inside? Was he performing his magic on another as he had done with her? She felt as though that might be the case, but she'd like to think it was just for her.
Besides the enlarged logo of the Fat Ox next to their business hours on the main window facing the street, the tinted glass of the restaurant further prevented her from peeking into the restaurant. She debated whether to go home or just settle for some ice cream on the way. Instead, she opted for another idea.
She parked the car a few blocks away from the restaurant and collected her thoughts.
What are you doing? This type of activity is not like you, Brandi. You're too young for him. What about Craig? I'm in way over my head. I've got an exam tomorrow, for crying out loud.
She applied a fresh coat of lipstick, ran her hands through her hair and got out of the car. She walked to the end of the block, slowly at first and then quickened her pace. She turned the corner, lost in her thoughts about what she would say if he were there. Perhaps we'll have the good fortune of meeting again. What did that even mean? Was he implying something else perhaps?
Suddenly, she felt an impact, and before she could look up, she realized that she had run into something. But it wasn't something. It was someone. She picked up her purse embarrassed, barely looking up. In haste, she excused her clumsiness with apologies and walked on to the Fat Ox.
"Brandi?" She looked up. It was Rick. Her heart skipped a beat, then another.
"Rick? Oh my God! I didn't realize it was you!" They both laughed as her mind whirred with a needed explanation as to why she was here in front of him. What if she admitted she was looking for him, and he turned her down? Her confidence quickly faded, as it always did.
"Do you live downtown? Her thoughts spun looking for a fast and quick lie to cover her tracks.
"Yes, I live just up 10th street, above Eddie's on the left."
"Eddie's?"
Oh my God! He doesn't believe me, she thought. I've been found out.
"Yeah, you know the shoe place?"
"Oh, sure, Eddie's." He paused and sheepishly grinned. "I can not tell a lie, Miss Brandi. Confession time. I have no clue about Eddie's. I don't live here but come here a lot on business. I stay at the Radisson mostly, and you can't beat the martinis at the Fat Ox, you know? So I hang out there a lot too."
Where was all of this going, she wondered. She felt a unique situation all of a sudden, the feeling of both being aroused and intimidated all at the same time.
He reached out to caress her ear. When he drew back his hand, there was no flower this time. Just a warm smile and a warm, wet feeling on her part.
"Got time for a night cap?"
She nodded yes, unable to speak. They strolled to his hotel in the chilled evening air. It wasn't a far walk, but he took off his suit and offered it across her shoulders. She took in that familiar musky scent and wanted to pinch herself. She longed to be back in last night's red dress, feeling suddenly under dressed.
They climbed the steps, walked through the revolving door of the hotel and across the lobby to the hotel bar. A couple of businessmen were at one table practicing the upcoming day's corporate presentation. Aside from them a man sat alone at one edge of the bar, nursing his cocktail. Brandi and Rick sat in the opposite corner, pretending to watch the Cardinals game as they drank. More than once their eyes met in a playful dance of "let's play it cool, but we both know where this going to lead." The game went extra innings, an analogy for how Brandi hoped things would go later on. When the bar closed down, Rick invited her up to his room. She went, half drunk and half full of desire, but drunk with desire as well. She let Craig go to 2nd base the previous night. She wanted Rick to round third and head home. He did.
She asked him to be gentle before he began. He was. The sex was passionate that night, especially for Brandi, but it always was with him. Despite the mystery that was Rick, he was always romantic, as though he had never pleasured a woman before. However, in public it was different - always slow to show any public exhibition of attention towards her. She chalked it up to his personal way of playing hard to get, which always worked for her.
After a few dates, he bought her a phone, his "Brandi phone" for her he called it. So they could always stay in touch when he was out of town. She suspected there was more to Rick than met the eye but she didn't care. For all the days, he would be away from her, back home, wherever that was, he always made up for it upon his return. Still, there was that unspoken conclusion about his marital status, unhappily at best she guessed.
Perhaps that was the reason when she had called him earlier in the week that he was distant and cold, unlike his usual self. Ordinarily he would voice his excitement at seeing her and many times tell her the things he wanted to do to her. But not that day. He sounded rushed, that he would not be coming back to St. Louis anytime soon because of a job promotion and promptly broke off their relationship.
Even though it had been three nights ago, she hadn't slept since then. Her roommate had gone to Cancun for Spring Break, inviting Brandi to go with her. But Brandi was convinced Rick would be in town and anxiously awaited the opportunity to see him. They made it a recurring task to visit the latest exhibit at the art museum and of course he took her to the symphony. Most days he would work, but the nights filled with gifts of sexy lingerie followed by passion. But apparently those nights had come to a close.
Since that conversation, Brandi started losing weight, didn't feel like eaten and the color from her face drained a bit. She walked around the small dorm room, feeling like a zombie, watching Netflix and attempting to push him from her thoughts. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to the reality of the situation nor the grasping of it. The TV would never be on too long, and her repeated texts to Rick came back as undeliverable. She feared the worst.
She slowly sat up in bed, wiped her eyes and looked out the window. It was raining, a perfect metaphor for how she felt on the inside. She sauntered across the room to the sink, poured herself a glass of water and went back to bed. She prayed for this pain of separation and abandonment to go away. Pain and rain, she thought, that's hilarious. Only this time she wasn't laughing.
She considered ransacking the other dorm rooms on her floor for prescription painkillers. College students, full of anxiety and a combination of pre-existing conditions, would be ripe for drug theft. But her web research indicated that pills only had a 25% chance of success in eradicating what she had within her.
As Brandi put the glass down she found a small stack of items that her roommate intended to take to Cancun including a BOGA knife she had received from her parents. BOGA stood for Back Off Get Away, an excellent self-defense term for single women. This time Brandi couldn't get the hurt to back off or get away fast enough.
She unsheathed the knife, stared at its edge briefly, then sliced her wrist. She winced with momentary pain as she drew it across her arm and then quickly walked across the room to her bed. Tears fell as she felt her life already ebbing away. She had looked her sexiest in red that first night she met Rick. She wouldn't look as good in this red, she told herself.
She made a list of everyone she should have apologized to for going out like this. Dr. Jennings would not be happy nor her mother. The tears continued to fall. For the one person she wanted to write a letter to the most, the one that even Rick did not know about yet, she did the only thing she could. She patted her stomach, their child, thinking of what would never be.