Free Chasing Circumstance by Dina Redmon Page B

them at me.
    “Oh, Mr. Cairns, if it is a food fight you are trying to start, it is a food fight you shall have.”  I picked up the bowl full of whipped cream, sat up on my knees and held it over his head. 
    “You wouldn’t…”  Before Stuart could finish his sentence, I dumped the contents of the bowl atop his head, stood up, grabbed the bowl of grapes, and ran to the kitchen. 
    “Incoming!” Ducking behind the bar that separated the two rooms, I began to lob them at his head like mini grenades.
    Stuart raced around the corner of the bar through the barrage of fruit, slipped on the hardwood floor, and landed flat on his back.  Laughter echoed through the room as I crawled over to him and kissed him through his whip cream covered face.  “You cannot say that I didn’t warn you.”  I picked up a grape from the floor, stuck it to the whipped cream on his forehead, and laughed even harder.
    After cleaning the mess from our food fight, we finished eating our meal, or at least what was left of it, and sat on the couch together.  He leaned against the end of the couch with me resting between his legs, my back against his chest and his arms draped over my shoulders.
    I heard a phone vibrate against the table and looked over to see whose phone it was coming from.  It was Stuart’s.  I picked it up to hand it to him and saw the name ‘Bonnie’ flash across the screen.
    “Who’s Bonnie?”  I handed him his phone over the top of my head as I asked.
    He accepted the phone from me, rejected the call and set it back on the table.  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.  Bonnie is my wife.” 
    His words slapped me in the face.  “You’re wife?  What the fuck?!  When were you going to tell me this tidbit of information?  It’s not like you haven’t had enough time, oh say, over the last seven fucking months!”  I sat up and moved to the other end of the couch.
    “Please, calm down.  It’s not what you think.  We’ve been separated for six months and…”  I cut off Stuart in mid-sentence.
    “Wait, six months?  So, you were still together when we first started talking online?”  I stood up and started throwing my things into my bag next to the coffee table.
    “Yes, but I knew my marriage was over.  We just hadn’t taken the final step.”  Stuart stood and grasped me by the arm.
    “Get your hands off me!”  I pulled away from him.  “You STILL haven’t taken the final step, but I am!  This is enough!  You’ve lied to me too many times!  I can’t trust you!  I could never trust you again!”  I walked into the bedroom, threw my clothes on over his t-shirt and finished packing my things.  Walking back into the living room, I saw him sitting on the couch with a dumbfounded look on his face.  Ignoring him, I picked up my phone, called Jeffrey, and asked him to hurry over to take me back to the hotel.
    “Amia, please, let’s talk.”  Stuart, still sitting on the couch, looked up at me and almost begged me to listen to him.
    “Talk?  How about you listen for a change?”  I stood over him, staring into his eyes.  “First, you fill my head with how everything is going to be perfect between us, and when I don’t move here in the time slot you wanted, you break my heart.  You send me an email and tell me you only used me to feel loved while mourning your father’s death.  Used me?  Really?!  You didn’t even have the decency to call me!  You broke up with me via fucking email!  Then I show up here, and somehow we’re able to get past all the pain you caused me and have an inconceivably wonderful time.  In the end, just as I fell in love with you again, you turn around and slap me in the face with the undeniable fact you are married?  How am I supposed to ever trust you again?  How do I know you’re not using me now in an attempt to feel something other than loneliness at the end of your marriage?  Hell, what am I saying?  Your marriage hasn’t