“Good grief! This
bed was thrashed!”
Rachel could sleep in a bed all week and you’d hardly
know it had even been slept in. Jon’s
presence in the same bed brought about a different result even without
sex. Throw a wild sexcapade in there and
the sheets would be pulled from all four corners and completely torn off at the
bottom.
The tussled bed was a small price to pay for the sense of
normalcy that had returned to the couple, she thought. Waking in the night and finding him curled
around her had felt right for the first time in a long time. She’d taken for granted the little things of
being in a normal relationship and just the sound of him brushing his teeth in
the bathroom while she made the bed was music to her ears.
Jon spit out the toothpaste, rinsing his mouth, then
wiping the residual water with the back of his hand as he opened the shower
door and turned the water on. “You’re
messy in bed, babe. And relentless, I
might add.”
“That’s because YOU are so persuasive,” Rachel replied,
as, in the mirror hanging on the bedroom wall, she watched his reflection step
into the shower. Even with that horrid
mess of bedhead, he was a delicious vision.
“Own it, baby! YOU
are the one woke me out of a dead sleep early this morning for round four.”
Bed finished, she joined him in the shower, luxuriating
in the feeling of his soapy chest under her hands. “I was making up for lost time.”
Jon dropped his head under the shower spray to rinse the
shampoo from his hair even as his hands found their way around Rachel’s waist
and slid to cup her bottom. “I’m amazed
you can even walk this morning.”
“Walking is only
mildly uncomfortable. Sitting, however,
may prove to be a little more difficult today.”
“You love it.”
“Yeah, I do,” she chuckled. “I love the little reminders allll day long
of the things you did to me the night before.
It helps me plot the things I’m gonna do to YOU tonight!”
“Your devious, plotting mind is one of the most
attractive things about you.” He finished rinsing the soap from his body
before cracking a playful slap to Rachel’s behind. “I’m gonna head downstairs and get some
coffee going. You wanna come down or
want me to bring you some up here?”
“Let me just finish my shower and comb out my hair, and
then I’ll come downstairs.”
“K. Considering the way you abused my body last night,
are you planning to fix me a breakfast feast?”
“Of course! I want
to replenish all those nutrients you sweated out. Gotta have you in prime shape for tonight’s escapades.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When she found her way to the kitchen a short while later, he was sitting at the
breakfast bar talking on the phone.
Nothing unusual about that, because he was always on the phone. Rachel paid little attention to his
conversations at any time and, lost in her own thoughts, even less so this
morning,.
Her coffee was waiting for her, prepared just the way she
liked it. He was a dream with that
barista machine, she thought as she reached into the fridge for eggs and
assorted breakfast ingredients. A quick
chop of onions and peppers, along with a little ham and her omelet was well on
its way.
Rachel had just poured the eggs into the vegetables when he
ended the call. Still reveling in the
returned bliss of her life, she didn’t even notice the silence until he quietly
spoke a short time later.
“I love you, Rach.”
She turned her head over her shoulder and noticed the odd
look on his face. “I know that. I love you, too. What’s wrong?”
He was silent, not looking directly at her, but staring at the kitchen wall just beyond her He took a breath and frowned before finally
speaking.
“That was Jesse.” He
paused, seeming to be searching for words, which struck her as odd considering
the man made a living writing lyrics. “Dorothea
is taking the kids to St. Bart’s for their spring break. Jess asked me to go with them … and I've told
him I will.”
The once promising omelet became a scrambled mess as her
body went on autopilot while her mind went numb. She mindlessly stirred the eggs, trying to
keep the waves of nausea and light-headedness from overwhelming her. He may as well have punched her in the
stomach, her physical reaction was so intense.
She finally flipped off the burner and palmed the
counter, leaning against it for support, unsure how she could even stand with
the bomb he’d just dropped.
The silence was deafening as Rachel fought the feeling of
being some cheap, dirty toy Jon kept hidden on the side while continuing to maintain a family with his former wife.
In her typical mode of self-defense, she cultivated the
devastating hurt into anger. Anger was
preferable to the feeling of betrayal, insignificance and worthlessness that he
was trying to saddle her with. This was
the exact same thing that happened with his last trip and she realized nothing had changed. Worse than that, nothing would change.
“I’m worth more than this, Jon,” she quietly mumbled,
proud of herself for maintaining some semblance of decorum by not screaming the
words at him until he understood.
“What’s that
supposed to mean?” he barked back, clearly unconcerned with decorum.
He was going right back to the place they’d barely come out of, gloves
off and ready to fight.
She turned to face him, refusing to cower at the stove
with her back to him. Rachel would try
one last time to keep things low-key, while still standing her ground. “I’m tired of being the woman you play house
with when you’re not playing family with your ex-wife. I’m not some hooker you've picked up on Main
Street to fuck all night before you take off for vacation with another woman.”
His face contorted in a mix of anger and defensiveness,
his voice raising, but not quite yelling.
“Shit, Rachel… She IS the mother of my children for
fuck’s sake!”
God help her, she had tried, but if he wanted this kind
of fight, she would give it to him.
Rachel didn’t even know she still
had the spoon in her hand until she slammed it down on the counter in a rage
that had been building for months.
“DON'T I KNOW IT!!!
Something I'LL never be because you refuse to even consider having a
family outside of the sacred one you've created with Saint Dorothea! How are we
supposed to EVER build a life of our own???
You're still tied to the old
one! And I’m little more than something
you keep on the back burner… an afterthought!
He slammed his palms down on the bar and regarded her
with total disdain. “I'm SO sick of
having this fight every time I spend some time with my kids!!! When are you gonna grow up and get over
whatever your mental hang-ups are?”
In classic Jon and Rachel style, each raised their voice
to exceed the other’s and, before long, the yelling had begun in earnest.
“This doesn’t have a damn thing to do with your kids and
you know it! This has to do with you
CHOOSING to keep your two lives separate.
You still see her as the number one woman – if not in your life,
certainly in priority. In your mind
she’s the Virgin Mary!! I don’t have
to build a life with a man who jets off with another woman every chance he
gets! YOU haven’t broken that tie, Jon.
The only mental hang-ups around here are YOURS!”
“God forbid I grab every chance I can to be with my kids...”
“Yeah?! Well God
forbid I should actually have a say! God
forbid I should be allowed to be the mother of even ONE child of yours! It isn’t that you don’t want any more
children, is it Jon? It’s that you don’t
want any children outside of that blessed union with Dorothea. Are you afraid you’ll dilute the royal
Bongiovi bloodline if you sire a bastard love child outside of the confines of
your ex-wife?”
In all of their arguments, Rachel had never seen anything
like the explosion that followed. It was
obvious hers wasn't the only rage that had been simmering just under the
surface because Jon was positively wild
with fury.
“Well maybe I don’t wanna have kids with a woman who
can’t face up to real life so she runs away from me every chance she gets. Just maybe I want the mother of my children
to stay and fight instead of running away all the time! Didja ever think of that??!!
She took a step closer to him with no intention of
backing down from his nastily hurled accusations.
“Dorothea ran away from you! Is that why you go
sniffing around every time she beckons you???
So you can pick up the tab for some high-end vacation all in the name of
giving your children one more precious memory with mommy and daddy? Seems to me you’d have been better off to
have given a little consideration to having children with me – I WANT to be with you. Maybe your kids would’ve learned a better
lesson to see daddy with a woman who wants him!”
He was red faced and somehow reminded Rachel of a
spitting cobra, with venom dripping from his fangs when he took his next strike.
“She may have run away from me, Rachel, but she sure as
hell never whined around if she didn’t get my undivided attention or if I
didn’t call home for a day or two. If
she had a cold I never heard a word about it.
If you weren't such a whiny, needy, pansy-ass you wouldn't have been at home…”
he brought his fingers to the air to illustrate his point with condescending
air quotes - “‘sick’ while your husband
took two young kids on a ‘family’ ski trip!
You’d have had your ass where it belonged – taking care of your kids!!!”
Rachel had reached across the kitchen island and slapped
him before a conscious thought had even registered in her mind. His
head snapped back and his eyes went huge with shock and instant regret.
“Rach… FUCK!! I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it.” He had immediately skirted around the counter
and was now grabbing her firmly by the arms, almost shaking her as he ducked
his head to look into her face. “You know I didn’t mean it!”
Honestly, the only thing Rachel knew for certain at that
precise moment was that she couldn't stand the sight of the man whom she had
declared was the love of her life. She
now understood the comment people often made about there being a fine line
between love and hate, and if she had to look at him for one more minute, she
was terrified that she would cross that line.
Her voice could only be described as a death whisper when
she ordered, “Go home, Jon.....
And stay there.”
And stay there.”