Scrooge

Victoria McArthur

VICTORIA MCARTHUR

I should feel defeated. Sad, a little deflated. But I don’t. I feel like I can breathe again for the first time all day.

“It’s just not the one. These things take time,” my friend, Fiona, says from next to me, seeming to think my quiet reflection is related to disappointment about not picking a wedding dress. God, if she only knew .

“I know,” I say, trying to hide my relief. My feelings toward marrying Josh haven’t progressed to joy yet… I don’t think they ever will. Every dress within my budget that I tried on looked utterly ridiculous. Even Fiona agreed. It’s the universe telling me to stop the wedding, I know it. Something just doesn’t feel right about it anymore. Not that it ever did. I shake my head as I put my key in the door of my apartment, glad to finally be home.

“You know what. Let’s just have a glass of wine. My feet are killing me,” she says dramatically with an eye roll that makes me smile for the first time today.

“Deal. You get the glasses, and I’ll grab the wine. Plus, you still need to fill me in on the guy you hooked up with last night. Tyler Grant? Did you know he is one of the city's richest men?”

As much as I want the juicy details, I feel bereft for a moment, realizing that even though I am engaged, I have never had that kind of feeling. The sweep me off my feet feeling. That heart-pounding feeling. The I love you more than I can breathe feeling. I just feel suffocated. Permanently.

I throw my new bag onto the counter as I walk in, the bright-pink tote causing the pile of mail I have been ignoring to spread. “Shit,” I mumble, collecting it all and sifting through it quickly as Fiona heads straight to grab the wineglasses. Bill after bill filters past my vision until a letter catches my eye. It looks formal, with a stamp of a law firm in the corner. I throw it in my handbag to look over later and smile at my friend.

“What’s that music?” Fiona asks, coming to stand next to me as I listen to the loud dance beats thumping my walls from down the hall. My fiancé Josh stayed home today while we went dress shopping. After popping the question a few months ago, he has been pushing me out the door every weekend to plan a wedding that he is happy to play no part in organizing. If I were to be honest, neither am I.

“It’s too loud. Let me go let Josh know we are back, and I will turn it down.” Pushing off the counter, I walk down the small hall.

My apartment is my sanctuary and has been for years. A small two-bedroom on the Upper East Side that is high enough to catch the morning sun. My landlady is a lovely older woman who is currently enjoying retirement in Florida. I have decorated the place in subtle tones of coffee and crisp white. With a fascination for interiors, I spend every waking hour either shopping for the latest decoration or furnishing to adorn my home or too many hours sifting through magazines and Pinterest, designing my dream homes. While my day job selling advertising pays my bills, it does very little to quench my creative desires.

I open my bedroom door and stop short, my breath catching in my throat at the sight in front of me.

“Hey, where is your bottle open—” Fiona doesn’t finish the question as she pulls to a sharp stop next to me, and we both stand in the doorway, our mouths agape. “Oh… My… God,” she whispers at seeing my fiancé grinding into—

“Natalie?” I shriek when the realization hits me that my fiancé and his colleague are in my bed together. Naked.

They don’t hear me above the loud music, with Natalie currently whimpering as Josh slams into her from behind. Neither of them see us, as her face is buried in my silk pillow that I scoured the globe for and finally found in the Philippines. The silk is so fine that I already know it is ruined just from her ridiculous fake moans. My heart races, but I can’t move. I am rooted to the spot, frozen in shock. I look at my fiancé, the man who told me only a few hours ago that I was the most important person in the world to him, and see his eyes closed as his hips continue to thrust forward.

I should shout or yell, but I can’t. I can only grimace. My body remains rigid, my heart thundering to the point of feeling lightheaded. All I see is his pasty, skinny ass flex with every paltry thrust. But as I tilt my head, really taking this in, my body oddly starts to calm and my breath leaves my lungs in an exhale that feels like it lifts a thousand pounds off my shoulders.

“What the hell is going on here!” Fiona yells for me, jolting me from my realization, and the two jump apart like they have been burned. Natalie grabs my bedsheets and pulls them to her naked chest—the ones I saved up for months to buy from Saks, the ones that are Egyptian cotton with the highest thread count available. The sheets I had on my wish list for over a year, that cost more than my monthly salary, and I itch to rip them from her grasp.

“It’s not what it looks like…” Josh says, out of breath, and my eyes flick to him as the poor excuse falls from his mouth. We all know exactly how stupid that statement is, considering I just saw his dick in her vagina.

“You have five minutes to get dressed and get out of my apartment,” I say, looking between them. My teeth grit out of anger, yes, but more so disbelief. How did I not see this? How did I not know this was going on? I am such an idiot. I could have ended this shambles of an engagement months ago, but the trepidation of his assumed heartbreak, coupled with the fear of failure that sprinkles across all my relationships, held me back. I mean, dating in New York is hard. Hell, dating anywhere is hard. It is hard to find your person, and I guess I just settled, thinking he truly loved me.

“Victoria, I can explain…” Natalie starts to say, then trails off as I stare at her with a glare that probably tells her she should keep her mouth shut. I’m reining in my wrath that threatens at their disrespect, at the fact they had the audacity to do this in my space. And I don’t know her well enough to want an explanation, anyway.

“Just leave,” I repeat without a hint of emotion, swallowing it all down.

“Baby, let’s talk. It’s nothing. She… she means nothing to me,” Josh rushes to explain as he takes a step toward me, and Fiona snorts. Natalie bolts upright, her body now mostly clothed, her heels in her hands.

“Nothing?” she spits out, staring at my fiancé in disbelief. I am not sure, but I think that makes it even worse. That he was so willing to throw me away over someone who “means nothing.”

“Two minutes,” I tell them, not giving either of them more of my time. They can have their lovers’ tiff somewhere else.

“Victoria, I…” Natalie tries again, stepping toward me like I am an injured animal and she isn’t sure if I will strike. I cut her off.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Home.” I look her dead in the eye, unflinching. I watch her swallow roughly, nodding, her expression riddled with guilt. Then she walks right past me and straight out the door, her heels in hand and makeup smeared.

While I am still in shock and comically relieved, I hate being played the fool, and anger swirls inside my chest that I let this happen to me. My mother raised me to be strong and independent. Deep down, I know Josh and I are not soulmates, but seeing them in my bed together makes me vomit a little in my mouth.

I look back at Josh who stands in front of me, his jeans now on, his pale chest doing nothing to entice me. “Vic, baby,” he says smoothly, swaggering closer, his arms wide open. Like he thinks we’re about to kiss and make up.

“You too.” My jaw clenches so I don’t scream or shout. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, even though I feel disgusted, betrayed, and like I can barely breathe. I don’t want to be the cliché scorned woman. I want my dignity intact. I wonder briefly if this is how my mother handled it when my womanizing father finally got caught. I will have to ask her. Men, they’re all the same.

“What?” he asks, his head rearing back with a frown.

“Get your things and get out of my apartment,” I emphasize steadily, but I’m losing the last of my patience. And he has the nerve to look at me like I’m crazy.

“But… I just moved in. I have nowhere else to go.”

It’s true. He gave up his apartment to move in with me. My apartment and location are much better than his was, and given we were going to be married in mere months, we both thought it was a logical step. Obviously, it was a step I shouldn’t have taken. I shimmy the rock off my finger—the thing is too gaudy for me anyway—and I throw it at his chest. It’s another weight lifted.

“No longer my problem. We are done ,” I bite out the last word, and his eyebrows hit his hairline as he catches the ring.

“You go, girl,” I hear Fiona whisper from down the hall, where she had retreated to give us privacy.

“Baby, come on… It was a little slipup,” he croons once more, like he is apologizing for being home late after drinks with the boys, rather than cheating on me. In my own bed . On the day I was wedding dress shopping. It is then I realize that this man, somewhat attractive and with a good corporate job on Wall Street, is nothing but a self-absorbed, cheating asshole who has probably never had a woman say no to him before.

“We are over. It’s as simple as that.” I cross my arms over my chest and roll my shoulders back. What can I say, I am a Scorpio. There are no second chances with me.

“Vic, honey, we can work through this,” Josh says, nearly begging, and now it is my turn to frown. Is he fucking serious right now? I knew I shouldn't have said yes to his proposal. I knew then, when he was down on bended knee on New Year’s Eve, in front of his boss and work colleagues. I knew then he wasn’t the one, but I said yes anyway. Hoping that I was just nervous, a little caught off guard. Besides, who can say no to a proposal on New Year’s Eve. In New York City, of all places. In front of an audience.

“Get. Out. Right Now.” This time, my voice rises. Whether it is the look in my eyes or the finality of the words, Josh finally picks up his clothes.

“We will talk once you have calmed down. You're clearly too emotional right now,” he says, trying to make me feel like I’m overreacting.

I grit my teeth and remain tight-lipped as he walks past me and out the door. Still in my bedroom, I stand unmoving as I survey the damage. Pillows, sheets, blankets strewn all over the space, a condom wrapper on my bedside table, and design magazines I had been bookmarking tossed to the floor. Not to mention, the take-out containers piled on the floor, since they must’ve enjoyed lunch together before their afternoon delight. He may not have been the love of my life, but I have quite a mess to clean up.

My eyes burn as the music suddenly stops, my head whipping to the side to see Fiona walking in with two glasses of wine.

“I just opened a second bottle of red to air. Figured we might need it,” she says, looking at me with concern as I take a glass and bring it to my lips.

“You figured right.”

Her arm wraps around me, and I break down, the fight leaving me fully as my emotions take over.