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our hands off each other, but lately there’ d been nothing. Pilar would claim she was busy with work or she was having her cycle, or she wasn’ t feeling well. Silly me would encourage her to rest or take medication, thinking of her well-being. The truth was she was seeing someone else.
It all made sense. Every conversation between us was seasoned with her sarcasm and snappish retorts for no reason. I’ d done nothing to merit her responses except to be me. Last weekend we’ d went out for drinks, and I’ d stared in disbelief as she texted on her phone for the duration of our time together. I’ d been pretty much ignored until the check came. That’ s when she finally put her phone away, smiling widely at me. At the time, I’ d thought it was because we were about to have an intense lovemaking session, but no dice. Her cycle was down, according to her. I knew her cycle like the back of my hand, but sometimes they are irregular. The other night, when the pieces fell into place, I realized why she’ d been smiling. She was smiling because the time for us to part ways was at hand, freeing her to do whatever else, or whomever else, she wanted to. I’ d tried to find a friend in a bottle of spirits, but to no avail. I’ d gotten tipsy, itching to call Pilar and curse her out. Maybe it would have made me feel better for a moment, but I dismissed the thought. When the bottle is empty, and the hateful words can’ t be recovered, what do you have? Nothing, the same shit you started out with.
The bed and breakfast was a couple of miles off the highway, overlooking Lake Michigan. Being a Chicagoan, I always regarded it as my lake, not to be claimed by anyone else. The funny thing is you can’ t claim anything or anyone which really doesn’ t belong to you. The lake wasn’ t mine, and neither was Pilar. They belonged to themselves.
I drove the car into the circular driveway of the B & B, stopping the car close to the entrance. I shut the car off, and looked at Pilar.
“ There ' s a corner of your mind, which you don ' t talk about. A small piece of unsatisfied yearnings classified as me. The people may think one thing, but you and I know the truth. And the small piece of your mind can ' t help the storm of emotions regarding me. I ' m a hurricane and every person who comes after me is a spring drizzle. At least this is what I believe, you may feel different,” I said.“ You go ahead and check us in, while I park the car and grab the bags.”
The look on Pilar’ s face was one of stunned incredulity. She’ d probably never really thought about me as a prize, while focusing so much on herself and her beauty. Beauty is only skin deep, but Pilar had yet to learn the lesson. Being beautiful on the outside isn’ t enough. The underlying assets are what makes a person truly beautiful.
Pilar got out of the car, closing the door softly. The reservations were in her name, but I was supposed to pay the cost of our stay. I pulled the car around the side of the building. With the car still running, I removed her bags from the car, and set them on the ground. I slid back in the car, and made a U turn. Within two minutes, I was back on the highway, headed home to Chicago. I wondered idly if she knew the number of the new person in her life by heart. I hoped so, but then again, I hoped not. I’ m not so easily replaced.
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