BAD ACTING & CELL PHONES

It was 4am and I could hear them downstairs. She was with him in our own house. We had talked yesterday; the usual “Freedom and Independence” speech that every woman carries religiously in their purse, next to make-up and unclaimed phone numbers scrawled on bar napkins. She had even admitted there was another man, which I reluctantly took in stride.
“We can still be friends, can't we?”
Now she has brought him home. I could hear them as I lay awake in our bedroom. Lenore and that actor, Shep-- talking and laughing together. She is heartless. She never even gave me a chance to move on after our year-long relationship.
Silence.
I sat up in bed. No talking. No laughing. Nothing. Images started to play on the bedroom walls; a sordid movie that made me want to be anywhere but here at that moment. Then I heard her groan, like she used to for me: hesitantly at first, but then louder and with more force. He grunted. I only sobbed into my hands. I couldn't go down there; I couldn't even move. I was trapped and she was forcing me to take part in this. All I wanted was for them to stop. I pleaded in my head. Please, Lenore. You're better than this.
But apparently I am not.
I began to hear every movement, kiss and searching hand. I called my friend and asked him to call my cell phone. My cell was downstairs and, maybe, if she knew I was awake-- anything to make them stop.
“Why don't you go down there and make some noise? Let them know what you think. Fuck that bitch.”
“I can't. I need to get out of here. Please?”
“Alright. She's nothing, OK?”
I hung up and waited. She let it ring for an eternity before getting up.
“Eric? No, he's asleep. What? Yeah, I guess I can wake him up.”
Creaking stairs and shuffling footsteps. Lenore was standing before me; eyes hidden in the shade as her cigarette traced red arcs through the accusing dark. Her blouse was untucked and unbuttoned. Someone's hands had been through her hair.
“Here. Phone's for you. I don't know who it is. I guess I'm a little drunk.”
Please, stop! Don't go back to him!
I said nothing, grabbed my cell phone and watched her leave; listening to her fall back into Shep's uncaring arms.
“Hey, Eric, I'm serious. Fuck her. She isn't worth all this bullshit. No woman is.”
“Yeah, thanks. I'll call you later.”
I got dressed and went downstairs. I actually smiled at them as they stared at me from the couch. I smiled with blurred eyes and desperation inside. She was on her knees, hovering over him, and Shep, that fucking actor, couldn't even look me in the eyes.
“Hey, guys. I have to go pick up my brother. His car broke down. I will be back.”
Meaning: Here's your chance for redemption. I'm giving you a chance to make yourself look good, and gain respect for yourself. If I ever meant anything to you, get him out of here while I'm gone.
“OK. See ya.”
I left without shutting the backdoor behind me. For the next 40 minutes I drove around with my stereo at an ear-splitting volume so I wouldn't have to hear myself come apart at the seams. I was so ashamed. I can't believe I spent a year with a woman who would stoop so low. I can't believe I had moved in with her. I can't believe I gave all I had to give, just so she could screw around with another guy in our house.
I returned, head throbbing from crying and ears ringing with Marvin Gaye's voice, and the backdoor was still open. No no no.
I stepped quietly into the living room and stood there for a moment.
She never got up after I left.
He never got up, either.
They didn't know I was standing six feet away, watching them; her skirt hiked up, straddling him as he--
No! I ran upstairs, mind racing as I screamed and punched the wall. My mind retreated into a flurry of passion and pain. I went downstairs.
“Lenore, I need to talk to you right now.”
We went out back and she stood facing me; a pathetic thing with dark bags under her downcast eyes, smelling of another man. She looked like a child about to be scolded for playing in the mud.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I hit the wall again; the screaming pain in my wrist felt good. It was real.
“The $1700 you owe me; I want it back next week or I'm taking the pink slip to your car! All the shit I gave you, I'm taking back: the paintings, the books, everything! You don't deserve them! It hasn't even been 24 hours! Why are you doing this?”
Nothing, no response.
“Shep is ten years older than you! He's a yuppie with a goddamned SUV! Is that what you want? I loved you. I still cared. But you don't. You never did. Why, Lenore? I heard everything. I heard you.”
Nothing.
I got into my car and drove off. I'd like to say that I never looked back, but I did. I still think of her. There's no real conclusion or moral to this story. People sometimes are selfish and uncaring. There's no amount of love or understanding that will change that.
As I write this, Shep has yet to look me in the eyes. Lenore writes little runic notes of her love for him. And I wait for him to hurt her as she did me.