The Unseen Dance
After marrying Ben, my childhood friend, it
was like we were still strangers.
Our interactions were mostly limited to the
nightly routine, a perfunctory exercise. He
was so reserved that even when I brought up
divorce, he only paused, then pushed himself
up from the bed.
“Alright,” he said, like he was acknowledging
a memo.
“I don’t want the kid either,” I told him. “He’ll
be your responsibility.”
“No problem,” he replied, his voice flat.
I pushed further, “Thanks for the last few
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years. It’s been rough, I know.”
My belongings were minimal, all packed in
one suitcase. Before walking out the door, I
glanced back. Ben, bare–chested with fading
scratch marks on his back, stood silently on
the balcony, smoking a cigarette.
- 1.
The buzz around my younger sister, Chloe’s,
return to the States hit all the social media
feeds. A rising star in the ballet world, she
was all fire and flair in the interview clips,
always with that signature red dress.
But it was the last photo accompanying the
story that got my attention. It was a shot of a
car window, half–lowered, and Chloe’s head
strategically placed to obscure a man’s face.
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Though you couldn’t see him clearly, you
could make out the strong lines of his brow,
the curve of his nose, and the sharp cut of his
jaw.
And, they looked like they were kissing.
Chloe’s fans went ballistic, trying to figure
out who owned the car. I knew instantly; it
was my husband’s car, a rare limited–edition
Rolls Royce Phantom.
Ben wouldn’t be home tonight, I figured.
So, I happily sprawled out on our ridiculously large bed.
Later, I was woken by a pair of cold arms
sliding around me.
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