II - Becca's Suspicion
1298 Words
I arrived at the bistro around eight-thirty and ordered an herbal tea. I’ve already had enough coffee with breakfast earlier and wanted something gentler. I sat down at one of the tall bistro tables next to the windows and looked out. The café sat across from the central plaza of the small town I lived in, just outside of Dallas. I watched as pedestrians sauntered about and the fountain spraying its jets while I waited for my best, and only, friend in this quiet suburb.
Becca walked through the door about five minutes after I sat down and enthusiastically waved at me once she saw me. I waved back with the same zeal, smiling broadly at her. Her goofy self always put me in a good mood, no matter how depressed I was or after a bad night with Derrick. Becca ordered an extra large black coffee then sat across from me once the barista gave the short woman her order in an oversized ceramic mug. Her long, red, curly hair glistened in the morning light, framing her heart-shaped face and setting off her active, brilliant green eyes.
“So, how’s tricks, Chica?”
“Oh, you know… Another wonderful day. Jessi beat me to the kitchen this morning so I didn’t have to cook.”
“How is her cooking?”
“She’s gonna make some lucky guy both fat and happy.”
“Well, at least she won’t have to worry about his cheating at that point,” Becca said while smiling. “Now if you’d just let me teach her, she could land one and not have to worry about him ever wandering off. She’d have him completely enthralled and wrapped around her little finger in less than a week.”
Becca, avid painter and sculptor, owned a studio in town which also doubled as her home. She was always finding new people willing to model for her art. She was also completely insatiable and uninhibited from what I could tell from all the recounting she’s done of the wild times she had “making art” with a new model or recent encounters with one, or more, of her countless f**k-buddies. I loved listening to her, having to cross my legs just from listening as she went on about the amazing amorous antics she got up to.
My own love life no longer had any wheels, let alone gas. Derrick was either too drunk to perform, or was not able to satisfy me. That’s if it even happens at all. We hadn’t been intimate in… How long has it been? Eight months? I didn’t mind. Right now, I wanted him to get intimate with the wide end of a baseball bat.
“She’s fifteen! Don’t you think she’s a little young?”
Becca just shrugged.
“I was twelve when I had my first time. That’s why I said teach. Knowledge is power after all.”
“Still…” I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea even though she made a valid argument. “She’s too young, I think. She’s a sweet girl. not the willful tart you are.”
She shrugged again.
“You should know that if a girl has it in her mind that she’s ‘ready,’ there’s no stopping her. You were her age once. I’m sure you tripped more than your fair share of boys.”
“Maybe a couple…”
“Uh huh… Right.”
I brushed some hair out of my face and winced as I touched my bruised cheekbone. Her eyes narrowed.
“He got you good, huh? What do I keep telling you? If you let him go on like this, it’s not going to end well for anyone, especially you.”
“I know, Becs. I’m just at a loss on this one. We’ve been married for sixteen years, I’m tired of trying to figure out how to get him to trust me. I haven’t been with anybody but him since we started to date in college but to hear him tell it, I’m the biggest slut he’s ever known.”
“That’s his problem, not yours. Look I’m not saying, ‘Go get yourself a side-piece,’ although I think it might be good for you if only to get you out of the house. If he keeps accusing you of something you haven't done, you're liable to do exactly what he’s so worried about. Honestly, I can understand where he comes from. I mean look at you! You’re sexy enough to cause traffic accidents if you didn't dress so conservatively. Still, it’s no excuse for…”
I smiled at the traffic accident comment. Becca was a bombshell herself, and she knew it. She was short, five-foot-two, and was built like a gymnast: wide hips, big breasts, wasp waist, strong arms and legs, with dazzling eyes set in her pretty freckled face that paired perfectly with the mop of flame that cascaded down her back in tight waves. She could have the pick of any man in town, but she stayed single by choice, saying that it improved her art. I’ve been in her studio and seen a lot of her work. She may have been on to something.
“Jessi said something to me about it this morning. I feel so ashamed that they have to hear when he goes on these benders. I wanted to be able to give them a life without want, and I have, but I wish I could give them a home life that was more tranquil. You know I’ve tried everything from marriage counseling to renewing our vows, but nothing’s changed. He’s still as jealous as when we were in college. Anyone who looks my way, with you as the exception, he automatically assumes that I’m sleeping with them. He won’t even listen to his own mother about this. Every time she tries, he shuts off and ignores her. I saw his eyes glass over myself the last time she was on the phone with him. I heard the whole conversation.”
“Why do you stay? It’s not like you would be out on the streets, penniless. You and the girls could always stay with me until the divorce was finalized, even longer if you want. I like y’all. You’re like the sister I always wanted but never had, and that makes your girls my nieces.”
“And sleep on that lumpy fold-out couch of yours?” She laughed.
“Well, you could move in some proper beds if you want. I offer half of my California king to you.
“Tempting, but not really what I want. I just want him to not be such an ass!”
“Good luck with that…”
“I know, right?”
Some time passed as Becca sipped at her coffee, eyes deep in contemplation. I could practically see the cogs of her mind spin, forming an idea.
“You know,” she said, still staring at nothing, “ I think I know why he might be so insecure.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not going to like it…”
“Spill it.”
“Don’t say I didn't warn you. I think that he may be the one who’s cheating on you. In fact I’d lay good odds on it. Most men I’ve dated that have had that particular neurosis tended to be doing the exact thing they were accusing me of. Don’t respond. Just think about it. Chances are, I’m right.” With that she drained the last of her coffee and stood up quickly, ready to get on with our plans for the day. I pulled from my billfold a couple of dollars and left them on the table under my teacup.
- Writer
