Spite

[ A sequel to "Betrayed"]

Tom

“We’re just too different.” 

I look up from my tea. “What?” 

“I’m sorry Tom. We’re just not fit for each other.” 

I bite my lip, feeling nothing but anger. I look up at her. 

“Because of him, huh?” 

“Who?” 

“You know who, Owen.” 

She shakes her head but I know she’s lying. I stand up, furious. 

“I’m leaving,” I say before storming off. 

“Tom, I-” 

I don’t dare look back. 

*

I dig my fingers into the steering wheel. I check myself in the rearview mirror. My eyes are bloodshot. I clench my teeth. 

“All because of Owen,” I mutter thinking about Owen. I suddenly recall that day when he saw us. I didn’t hear him because I was too focused on Jess at that moment. But when the doorknob turned, my heart dropped. 

There he was. Just having a stupid, confused expression on his face. I wanted to speak to him but he just ran off. Jess got out of bed and slipped into some clothes. 

“I’m sorry Tom. I have to talk to him,” she said as I nodded. 

She ran off and that was when I felt something inside of me. Happiness. 

You see, way back, I stopped by their house because I had something to pick up from Owen. When I went over there, I noticed Jess was acting weird. 

“Oh I’ll be right back,” Owen said before running upstairs. I smiled at Jess who just nodded with a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as she sighed. She walked to the countertop grabbing a mug from the drying rack. 

“It’s just. . .I feel lonely whenever Owen heads off to work. Sometimes he doesn’t kiss me as much as he used to. You know?”

I gulped. “But Owen is working hard to provide for you.” 

“I know but I need someone who can be there for me every single day. Like you.” 

I blushed. “Like me? What do you mean, Jess?”

She walked over to me and stood close to me. I was confused about what she was doing but when I saw her touching my hand, I shook my head.  

I took a step back. “Jess I. . .” 

She kissed me passionately which sent me into a frenzied daze. I grasped the underside of the countertop tightly while she slid her hand up my shirt. Up to that moment, my shame and guilt dissipated and all there was, was passionate lust. 

Suddenly I heard footsteps approaching. “Okay, Tom. I have it.” 

I quickly pushed Jess away before Owen entered the kitchen. 

He looked at Jess and me with furrowed eyebrows. “What happened?”  

“Nothing,” I responded as he chuckled while shaking his head. 

“Here you go,” he said as he gave me the book. I looked at the book knowing it was the one I wanted to read badly. I looked up at him and he was smiling. 

“I’m sorry,” I uttered before he raised his eyebrows. 

“For what?” 

“Nothing. Sorry,” I said before clearing my throat. “Thanks, Owen.” 

“No problem,” he said before I waved goodbye to him. I turned and waved goodbye to Jess who waved back. Once I left their house, my heart was pounding. I shook my head. Oh my god.

*

After what had just happened, I felt guilt in my heart which affected me for some time. However, I kept showing up at their house and spent more time with her. Over time, the guilt I had disappeared. I would continuously show up at her house and we would have fun, you know? On one of those days, we had a conversation regarding Owen.

“Tom, should I tell Owen about us?” 

I frowned as I looked at her. “Sure. Get this thing out of the open.” 

“But how should I tell him?” 

“I don’t know. Just tell him you want a divorce because you hate being lonely whenever he's out at work all the time.” 

She shook her head, biting the underside of her fingernails. “It's not a good reason."

“It doesn’t matter Jess. You want to divorce him right?”

“Yes, I do, but. . .” 

“But what?” 

“I like Owen. He’s sweet to me. . .” 

“No, no. Don’t start with that, Jess. . .” 

She sat up covering her face with her hands. I shook my head when I heard her sobbing. 

“Jess, you were inclined to start a relationship with me. Was it because you loved me or was it because of the sex?"

There was a heavy silence between us that lingered. “Jess, answer me.” 

“I’ll tell him.” 

“About what?” 

“I’ll tell him that I want a divorce.” 

I looked at her and knew she was lying. However, I believed her. I thought that she would forget about him when our relationship started to grow but I was wrong. 

The next day, when I came to see her, she was on the couch with a cup of tea beside her. I saw her troubled expression.

“Jess, what’s wrong?” 

“I told him. . .” 

“Of the divorce?” 

“Yes.” 

“What did he say?” 

She looked at me with smeared mascara. “He didn’t like it.” 

I sat next to her and wrapped my arm around her. 

“I shouldn’t have told him that I wanted a divorce. I regret it,” she said in tears as I shook my head. 

“Jess, you did the right thing.” 

“How do you know, Tom?” 

That pierced my heart because I felt selfish at that point. 

I closed my eyes. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Jess refused to do it with me so I tried to convince her and she eventually gave in. The funny thing was that I kind of knew that Owen would find out soon enough. And he found out that day.

I lift my head from the steering wheel and look straight across the windshield. I’m parked near Owen’s house for some reason. I turn my head to the side and see Owen on someone's front lawn. He's talking to a man that looks to be in his early 20s or so. I don't know why he's talking to him. Suddenly, I hear the man's words since I have the window down. 

“How dare you come to my house and say stuff like that! She would never cheat on me! You’re so lonely, huh?”

I furrow my eyebrows. What?

“No, but you don’t understand. Your wife is cheating on you!” 

“Get out!” 

Cheating?

I stare at Owen, who runs to his house. He turns around and looks straight at me. I quickly duck down. After a few seconds, I slowly look up to see that he’s gone. That was close.

*

At home, I drink a couple of beers while watching some TV. Jess called me five times. My goodness, so persistent. I suddenly recall those words that came out of her mouth. 

“We’re just too different.” 

Too different? 

I clench the beer bottle before throwing it across the room. I hear it shatter. 

“I could just. . .strangle her.”