I should have never mentioned Justin to Dante.
When I told him I had a boyfriend he had reacted poorly to this news. The anger in his eyes at my perceived disrespect towards him from the situation.
How the fuck was I supposed to know we were getting married?
Dante wanted a name, address, and a breakup.
Instantly.
A text wouldn’t do.
He said it would leave too much hanging out there and invite Justin to try to meet up and talk. He insisted face to face, cut all contact and blocked his number.
He didn’t know how this might actually kill me. I might die doing this. But I couldn’t back down.
Fuck.
I should have had another glass of wine with dinner.
I glanced at my phone feeling like that elevator ride took a full minute. We were on the tenth floor and the way that the doors seemed to take a full year of my life as they gently opened up.
Justin lives in one of the multitude of overpriced condos in East Boston. He had moved there after the bro apartment in Southie had been dismembered, thanks to his friends all growing up.
Something that I wasn’t sure he’d ever get over.
He thought that since the name Boston was in its name and there was a train stop less than a ten minute walk away, he was living in the middle of the city.
He would get furious when I teased him about the North Shore living. Asking him questions about where was his favorite place to get a roast beef or if he wore his Celtic’s jersey without a shirt underneath.
And now I was breaking up with him.
There would be no inside jokes anymore.
No teasing as we drove north and I pointed out local joints like they were landmarks to the place. He never could understand my obsession with the orange dinosaur off of the highway. Never got the way I groaned about the cows that were scattered like lost sheep and should have never been displaced from the steak restaurant I had attended several family weddings at in my life.
Places closed but the memory and landmarks left behind there were a reminder of moments that had happened. Moments that I didn’t want to forget. Justin just didn’t understand my nostalgia.
I wonder if Dante knew about the cows.
Breathing out, my hands trembled as I tried to take a deep breath and just get this over with so I could lay down and go to sleep.
Looking down at my phone again I had wasted a half a minute freaking out. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Dante would be up here as soon as the timer went off. He wasn’t going to give me the time to do this; in his mind this shouldn’t have had to be done.
And he was probably right about that.
If my father knew he would have killed Justin and asked questions later. The questions being are you still pure and did I want to make a fool out of our family?
My knuckles rapped against the door as I held my breath, waiting to hear Justin yell ‘coming’ but I was greeted with silence.
My heart was beating as I looked around, wondering what was the proper amount of time until waiting again. I looked at the phone as I groaned, I only had three minutes left so I knocked again, making my knuckles bang harder against the door.
Nothing.
Stepping closer, I pressed my ear against the door and could hear the faint sound of music. He was home, he was just not coming to the door.
Fuck. Fuck, Fuck.
I reached into my bag, pulling out the set of keys I had.
Justin had given me a key to his apartment a week or so ago. Things were getting serious and my anxiety was spiking.
I was fairly confident I was going to throw up at any second.
My fingers were numb and I could feel the flush of too much energy and exhaustion overwhelming my body so it was like I was having an out of body experience.
The lock turned as I pushed the door open, eyes sweeping around the living room. A bottle of wine was on the table and I knew that Justin was too much of a clean freak to leave that open and just walk away from it.
Stepping inside the apartment, I pushed the door gently behind me, it didn’t catch the latch and for some reason I was aware this was a sneaking around moment.
Fear pricked the back of my neck as I felt the sweat gathering there, itchy and hot against my skin. I headed in creeping small steps towards the bedroom, where the music was coming from.
Part of me knew what I was going to find but seeing it with my own two eyes was way too much to handle.
Justin was facing me, on his knees, the waitress from the tapas place we ate at a few nights ago on all fours in front of him as he fucked her from behind, lost in the feel of them together. Both of them glanced up as I pushed the door open, frozen as my eyes widened and shame washed over me.
Shame. Embarrassment. Disgust.
My anxiety piqued at this point as I bent over where I stood, throwing up all the wine I had just drank at dinner, not even trying to make it to the bathroom.
