Writing the letter had an unexpected cathartic effect on me. I wasn’t expecting Ida to give me any pearls of wisdom. More often than not, her advice was utter crap. But the act of writing the letter seemed to help me put all of my feelings into perspective. It also helped me realize, until the day came where I made a decision to actually bow out, Genevieve wasn’t going to screw with my head anymore.
The drive over to the bitch’s compound, I blasted the music and sang along at the top of my lungs. In the moment, I completely understood why athletes always seemed to have headphones on before an event. They needed to be pumped up to avoid allowing their doubts and fears taking over.
Pulling into the long driveway, I parked and stared at the stately home. It was beautiful out in the Hamptons, but my ass definitely belonged in Brooklyn. Exiting Graham’s car, the front door opened, and a woman walked out. She took one look at me, and an evil smile slowly spread across her flawless face.
“Samira. How lovely of you to come.”
I plastered my best fake smile on to match hers. “Ainsley. So splendid to see you.”
Avery looked amused. She lit a cigarette, which surprised the shit out of me. “What’s it been seven, eight weeks? I’m shocked. Graham usually takes the trash out each Tuesday.”
“You know what they say: one person’s trash is another man’s treasure.”
She sucked a long puff of smoke into her lungs and then proceeded to blow out a half dozen perfect O smoke rings. I hadn’t seen anyone do that since my Uncle Guido quit smoking his filterless Lucky Strikes back in the nineties.
“You know, smoking gives you cancer.” I leaned in and whispered. “And wrinkles.”
After two more puffs, she ditched the cigarette out in an oversized planter. “Eventually, he’ll bore of you and come to his senses. A good blowjob, or whatever service you provide that is keeping him slumming these days, will eventually even get old.”
“I’d ask your husband if that was true, but I’m guessing by the stick that’s stuck so far up your ass, that the poor man hasn’t had good head in a lot of years.”
Inside, the house was quiet except for the clickity clack of Avery’s heels. “Where is everyone?”
She poured herself a cup of coffee. Of course, she didn’t offer one for the guest. Looking at me over her mug with a sly grin she said, “You mean the happy family?”
“I mean Graham and Chloe.”
“Mom and Dad and their beautiful offspring are down at the beach, taking their daughter for the inaugural swim of the season.”
“That’s nice.”
“When Graham and Genevieve bought this house, they used to fuck like rabbits in the ocean. Come to think of it, their daughter may have even been conceived there.”
This bitch was truly a piece of work. I forced out yet another that’s nice doing my best to pretend she wasn’t getting to me. But the truth was, I couldn’t help but get jealous at the thought of Graham and Genevieve. Obviously, they’d had a sexual relationship. I just didn’t need to visualize what that looked like.
I walked to the wall of sliding glass doors that lead to the yard and further down, the beach below. A hundred yards off in the distance was Graham and Genevieve. They were both in the middle of undressing and Chloe was jumping up and down excitedly between them. It was excruciatingly painful to see the man who I was in love with frolicking on the beach with another woman.
When they were both stripped down to just suits and skin, I watched in what seemed like slow motion as Chloe took the hand of each of her parents and the three of them ran for the surf hand in hand. A modern day Norman Rockwell featuring Barbie and Ken. The visual made my chest have a crushing sensation.
Avery walked up close behind me, watching over my shoulder. “What a happy family they could be. Look at the smile on Graham’s face.”
Graham was smiling. He was laughing and splashing in the water with both Chloe and Genevieve. He truly looked content.
Avery sipped her coffee. “Homewrecker.”
I slid the glass door open and stepped outside. When I turned around to slide the door closed, Avery was smiling victoriously. She didn’t budge when I slammed it closed in front of her face.
***
ON THE RIDE HOME, Graham held my hand as he drove. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Thank you for coming with me. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
“I’m glad you got to spend time with your daughter. She’s an amazing little girl.”
Graham lit up. “She is, isn’t she?”
“Have you and Genevieve spoken about your plans to tell her that you’re her father?”
“Genevieve thinks it’s best not to say anything quite so soon. She thinks we should continue to spend time together so that when we finally do tell her, she’s already comfortable with me. She suggested I come for dinner again this week.”