Infidelity [South End]

by Aileen Ma

I can smell it on his clothes when I lean in to say goodbye. His movements are the same, as if to hide the changes from me. Either that or my love for all things green has finally consumed me. Who else would read so much into the way a hoodie smells anyways?

I pace the hall outside my apartment. Let the thoughts run compulsively up and down the stairs, maybe even following after his footsteps and trailing him down the streets. My hands catch up with my thoughts and cradle my head. Jealously makes love a scary thing. I tuck a wisp of hair behind my ear and think of the word “infidelity.” Whether or not it means what this means to me right now.

Right now, I long for a can of coke, not diet, and this will probably be my downfall. It’ll probably force me back into the confines of my apartment. In which case my thoughts will either a) spare me and stay outside, where they are now. or b) follow me inside. b) is more likely. But I will risk it, if it means being able to wash away that unholy taste. The taste his lips in mine left me. Inexplicable. Bitter. Disgusting. The feeling of wanting to draw back with hurt right away, but then wanting to kiss back and jolt into him whatever sense he had left. “I know about you,” my kiss would say. I know about you.

***
He knows I would never voluntarily step foot into McD’s, so he’ll probably be here. I feel like so many things I never thought I’d ever feel like. I feel like a vulture in the wait. A lion before the pounce. A possibly psycho girl who’s had vodka on the rocks. Ok, I blame the weird taste of diet coke for that. Another thing about this corporate machination of cruelty that makes me wrinkle my nose in disgust.

But wait. I follow the direction of the red bendy straw’s neck as it suddenly jerks away from me. Then, all noise seems to cease, and there comes the slow-mo view.

His back as he turns away from the counter. Him holding a red tray in both hands. Two burgers and a huge thing of fries. Unassuming steps as he walks right past me to a table off the center of the room and sits down.

Suddenly everything starts again and I know what this moment means. Before I know it, before he’s even taken a bite of his big fat juicy burger, I’m there. Carried by my legs and some unknown power, I feel like I’m towering over him as he stares back at me. A look of love and fear. Tears are beginning to come to me now, and it’s useless to say anything, because he knows me too well. He knows the weight of broken promises. He knows.

He knows that the first bite he took so innocently meant that we could never be. He knows he never should have gone back to eating meat.