It All Comes Out In Therapy Ch. 02

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's the second chapter. I really doubt this story can be salvaged, I mean I'm jumpin around, switchin narratives and stuff, it's just not my best work. I tried to make it current, but well... tell me what you think though!

C8ER2U

The thought of returning to her house, their house for anything longer than 5 minutes turned her stomach. So instead she went out shopping. With her husbands credit cards of course.

Thinking back, Mel remembered what he'd told her upon handing the cards over:

"Melly, these are strictly for emergencies."

He knew how she was with money, so he knew the speech wasn't necessary; she wouldn't use the cards. She had her own job and her own money she could spend if she needed. So the cards were sitting in her wallet collecting dust. That is, until this morning, when she found him balls deep in his secretary. Now, she could think of no better emergency than this

By the time she figured she was finished, she'd nearly maxed out two of his cards on anything she could find that either fit well or might fit well. She really didn't try too much on. It was at this point she decided to call her sister and tell her what happened. She was sitting in her car, bags stuffed in the trunk and backseat.

"Hello," her sisters' sleepy voice came on the line. She was head nurse at a local hospital and sleep was a rarity.

As soon as Mel heard her voice she immediately began sobbing.

"Melanie? Is that you? What's wrong? Where are you?" came the barrage of questions from her sister.

"I'm okay Melody, I'm on my way over right now, I just needed to hear your voice," Mel cried into the phone.

Melody was her younger sister. They'd always shared a close bond, even though they fought like cats and dogs growing up because they were so close in age. At only 2 and a half years apart, they'd ended up sharing a lot of things over the years. From toys, to boys. Although Melanie had only been with one person, Melody was the opposite. She'd dubbed herself a connoisseur of the male forum, and never held back when it came to her explicit sexcapades. They were night and day and that's most likely why they're so close.

"Honey, what's wrong? How far away are you?"

"I'm near your house, Rodger cheated on me with his secretary; I bought those Christian Louboutins we liked. You know the knotted ones? I spent so much money. I don't care, it's his money. Actually it's visa's money. I didn't want to go home, because everything in it is his. So I bought new clothes."

"I'm outside of your house now"

There was silence on the phone. She was parked out front of her sisters home, head on the steering wheel cell phone to her ear crying when she heard the tap on the window.

Melody was standing on the driver's side, cordless phone in hand and a look on her face that said I'm so sorry. Mel opened the car door and fell into her sisters arms.

"I know baby, I'm sorry."

***********************

For Mel to show up at Melody's door was surprising. To have to comfort and console her was even more so. Melody was always the wild child, the party girl. Not the responsible one. Yes she had a great job that she loved at The Yellow Bow Children's hospital, but that was as dependable as she got. Melanie was the one who held her when she cried violently after their father died from prostate cancer when she was six. She was the one woke her up for school in the mornings, because her mom had to work two jobs to make ends meet. She was the one who threatened to kill Keisha Patterson when she'd told melody to meet her after school. She'd been there for her, her whole life. And now that the tables were turned, she didn't know what to do.

She'd brought all the bags in the house after she'd practically carried Mel inside. She called in and got a friend take her shift, and opened the bottle of grey goose she had in the back of her fridge for situations such as this.

"So tell me everything," she said to Mel sitting down two shot glasses in front of them.

They were sitting in her small kitchen in the breakfast nook. This house, unlike Mel's was small. Very small. But it was hers. It was decorated with love; the colors on the walls were warm contrasting colors in greens and purples. Her kitchen was her favourite spot though. Although it was small the windows were big and in the early mornings when the sun was just peeking over the horizon streaming sunlight across the earth, it made its way right into her small kitchen and, it seemed, right into her mood.

Now, she sat across from her heartbroken sister, and whished the sun were rising. Wished she could give her the happiness that sight gave her every morning.

"If we had only been together, a few years," Mel started, pausing to take her shot.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad."

Melody said nothing just waited for her to continue.

"I have never been so humiliated in all my life. Do you know I had no panties on?" she added, staring into her sisters eyes.

"Why?" melody asked. She'd never known her sister to be the type to go commando.

Mel dropped her head into her hands and wiped them over her face.

"Because I was trying to work on our marriage. On our non existent sex life. But it turned out he was already working on it."

Melanie poured herself another shot, downed it and poured another.

"I'm gonna need more alcohol," she said dully, taking her shot and pouring yet another.

"You should slow down, that stuff is hard, it catches up to you," Melody said a look of concern on her face.

"I don't care," she said holding the shot glass up to her face. She brought it level with her eyes and starred through it at her sister. Then, tipping her head back, she let the fiery liquid slide down her throat.

"Okay, maybe we should do something. I took the night off we could go see a movie, or go to one of those plays your always trying to drag me to. I think it's poetry night at jay jay's, or-"

"I don't wanna do this," Mel said cutting her off.

"I don't want to sit in your house and cry, and I don't want to watch some dramatic poetry, or an unfunny movie. I want to go out. I want to put on one of those dresses I bought. One of the ones Rodger would hate because it showed off too much. And I want to put on what mama would call hooker heels, and I want to dance like I'm not married."

Melody looked at her older sister. She was starting to show evidence of the alcohol. She was leaned back in her chair, head tilted back, lids heavy and pupils slightly dilated. Most of all she looked to be stricken with sadness. Her happy brown eyes looked bereft and empty.

"We can do whatever you want," Melody said. She'd do anything to make her sister happy at the moment.

"In that case," Mel said sitting up and pouring herself yet another shot. "Grab my bags, we're gonna turn this city upside down."

****************************

Three hours later, she was sitting in a bar she'd never heard of before, completely over dressed, in a black marc Jacobs cocktail dress and sky high Louboutins. She looked like a million dollars, but felt like barely 20. She'd planted herself at the bar. Her sister, who'd brought her here, was off being a social butterfly.

Over the last hour or so she'd fought off many drunks, who told her how beautiful she looked tonight, and so on and so forth. She'd stop them in the middle of their spiel, and as nicely as her current conditions could allow, ask them if they were going to buy her a drink; if not go away.

Now, she was thankfully alone with her thoughts. So much time had been wasted on Rodger. She'd spent half her life with him. He was the only man she'd been with, her first everything, Including heartbreak. She'd sacrificed so much. Her own education, because Rodger got into the better school, she decided to put hers on the backburner so he could go. They had a plan, first he'd go to school, she'd work, then when they were in a better financial position, she'd go back. But now, whenever she brought it up to him, it was always an excuse. They had a mortgage, and car payments. No need to take on another expense. Now is not the right time.

Now what did she have; a broken heart, broken promises, broken vows, a broken life. Everything she had was his. The car was in his name. The house too. She had a job selling art at a gallery downtown but the pay really wasn't much.

Her thoughts were interrupted again by someone else.

"So I saw you sitting here and was gonna use one of those, girl like you, place like this lines-"

"But you decided against it, lucky me," Mel said dryly cutting him off.

"Yeah, you look-"

"Beautiful tonight?" Mel offered, cutting him off again. She was staring into her drink, not looking at him at all.

"I was gonna say overdressed, but that too-"

"Listen," she said interrupting him for a third time. "Let's just cut to the chase."

"Right to the point, I like that in a-"

"A girl like me is drinking in a place like this."

"And quite a bit from what I can-"

"Yes, you can buy me another,"

"Didn't know I offered too," he said quickly before she cut him off.

"And lastly, no I don't want your phone number," she said finally, letting out a long breath.

"But you have it already," was his reply.

Mel turned to look at him. Her blurry eyes took a second to focus on him. He was staring at her, and she recognized those eyes immediately. It was her elevator guy.

"Ah, you remember me now?" he said grinning. Mel just stared at him.

He called the bartender over and watched as they conversed in Spanish. The bartender disappeared behind the bar and returned with a bottle of water. He set it down in front of Mel.

"Drink it," he said.

Mel looked over at the water bottle and then back into his eyes. They were still just as beautiful as she remembered. She took a second to look him over. His hair was pulled back away from his face. Her eyes roamed over his body. He wore a fitted black v neck shirt with black trousers. Black shoes.

"You like what you see?" He asked. Her eyes shot back up to look into his eyes again.

"Drink it," he repeated. "Believe me, you'll thank me in the morning."

*************

"Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Melody looked at her friend. She really hadn't heard a thing. She was too busy watching her sister fight off drunks.

"I'm sorry Kriss, what did you say?"

Kriss shot a derisive look in Melody's direction.

"I said, Emil wanted to see you. He would have been here tonight but the wife has a short leash on him. Not allowed to hang around anyone remotely attractive, no need for temptation to strike."

"Jeez, one slip up, and you're labeled a cheater for the rest of your life," Rebecca added.

Melody let her friends take over the conversation, and took the time to look them over. They were still living the party life, bouncing from club to club, adorned in nothing but the best. She looked down at herself, dressed in a fitted black tube jumper, created by some designer she couldn't remember at the time. She looked down at the shoes. The cheetah printed Mary Jane Louboutins. The shoes her sister could count on never seeing again.

For a fleeting moment she looked over at Mel and thought about bringing her over, but decided against it, remembering what she'd asked for when they stumbled into the bar.

"I'm going to the bar, please; if you love me don't hover."

So, instead of hovering over her while she drank more than a high school football team, she sat behind her watching like a hawk from a distance.

"Melly," she sighed watching her scowl into yet another drink, while a man tried in vain to talk to her.

"How do I fix you?" she wondered aloud.

All the school, the crying babies and blood hadn't prepared her for this. How, she thought ruefully, do you fix a broken heart?

*****************************************

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Yes, I'm sure many people have been."

Mel was still perched on her barstool, whishing she could sit still. And not be so drunk. She took the water bottle and began to drink from it.

"I wish I never knew it. I wish I was one of those people who never had it in their lives. I wish I never fell in love. Love is a lie. A horrible, terrible lie. Propaganda. That's what love is. Propaganda."

"Love can be many things. Painful is one of them, but there is another side of love," he said leaning in closer.

"Oh yeah, it's all a part of the propaganda. See it all sounds good at first. Wait till your 15 years in. When you're comfortable, and safe. When you feel like there is no one else but him. Just you, and him and love. But it will change. Somehow, you start to see things that you missed before. And before you know it, it's just you and him. And the love is gone. Propaganda."

He raised one eyebrow at her statement, and then looked thoughtfully at her.

"I don't think that's what propaganda means."

"It doesn't matter, because sooner or later you'll be where I am today. And when it happens, you'll understand it."

He opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him, putting her finger to his lips.

"Listen."

Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her right hand was at her heart. He didn't recognise the song at all. She began to sing it.

"Love don't live here anymore! Just a Vacancy, love don't live here anymore."

He watched her feel the music. It was like it spoke for her; every so often she would "mmmmm," just feeling the song. When she sang it, the words came from a place he presumed love used to live.

"When you lived inside of me, there was nothing I could conceive, that you wouldn't do for me. Trouble seemed so far away. You changed that right away."

Eventually, the song mixed into another, and he waited for her to speak.

"It's amazing how a song written over 20 years ago can still hold so much truth, huh."

"Do you wanna get outta here? Go some place quiet?" he asked.

"I can't leave my sister, she's my sister I have to... where is she?" she asked herself, scanning the room.

The alcohol had definitely caught up to her because the room was spinning. She couldn't find her sister, besides, everything was sideways. She began to panic.

"I wanna go home!" she said. Tears were gripping her throat and fears tiny fingers were beginning to crawl its way up her spine.

He saw the look on her face and was going to reach out for her when another woman came up between them.

"You okay?" Melody asked holding her sister up.

"Are you okay? I couldn't find you. I drank too much." Mel leaned into her sister, resting her head on her shoulder. Relief washed over her. She was okay. Not kidnapped, or murdered as her irrational mind had presumed.

"I'm fine, I was right behind you sitting with a group of friends. I was watching you the whole time. You wanna take off? I'll go flag a taxi."

"No, no, no. I'll be fine." Mel said straitening up. "I'll take a cab home, by myself. You go back to your friends, enjoy this night out! You look gorgeous, and I'm not just saying that because I love you. Go, have fun!"

"I can't just leave you Melly,"

"Oh yes you can! I'm fine. Besides, how often do you get a night off?"

Mel could see the hesitance in her eyes.

"Please Melody, for me. Just go have a good time. Please."

"Okay," Melody said relenting.

"But call me as soon as you get home, and in the morning, I'll take you out for breakfast."

Melody pulled her into a bear hug, and kissed her on the cheek. Releasing her, she walked back to her friends and Mel slowly made her way towards the door.

Once she got outside, the cool air had a slightly sobering effect on her and she leaned against a light pole trying to flag down a cab.

"Taxi!!" a deep voice yelled from beside her.

It was him again.

A yellow cab pulled up in front of them and he helped her into it.

"Where to miss?" the driver asked.

She almost gave him her address, but the thought of going home had her stomach flip flopping nervously again. Which really wasn't good considering its alcoholic contents. Turning to him, she looked into his eyes and got lost.

"I haven't got all day , where we goin?"

"I can't go home. Take me anywhere but home, I can't go back there," she said still looking into his eyes.

He gave an address, and they took off.

*************************

Franco Dominguez wasn't a stupid man. Many people could call him many things; tardy, irritable, sometimes mean, repressive, the list could go on and on. But stupid, was one thing he most definitely wasn't. He'd been an honour student his whole life, graduating summa cum laude from his very prestigious university paid for by full scholarships from years of very hard work.

So he knew without asking that the emotionally disturbed woman who came flying past the receptionist desk, and him, slamming the glass doors so hard she could have broken them, was a liability.

The fact that she was married, threatening secretaries in front of her husband, and then slapping said husband in front of the entire office, should have sent off huge warning signals in his head. DANGER! DO NOT ENTER! CAUTION! CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE!

Everything rational within him said to ignore this woman and to go on about your day, your life, and just forget about her. But there was something in her eyes, the way she stared at him, like she was distressed and he was riding a shining white horse. She had the audacity to look at him, eyes rimmed with unshed tears as if he, could save her. He could barely save himself, but he knew he couldn't help it. He had a condition. A weakness. A pattern, if you will. His kryptonite, was a woman in need.

His last relationship was with a younger woman. She'd had two boys she was raising, with special guest appearances by a dead beat dad. He'd stepped in, served as a role model to her kids, and treated her like she deserved to be treated; like a queen.

But she was always waiting on the other shoe to drop. And when it hadn't, (not from his doing) she'd dropped him, stating she was getting back with her children's father. It was for the best, never mind the fact that the bastard had beaten her almost to a pulp when they were last together.

After that, he'd given up on love, on saving. He'd pulled his figurative life raft out of the water, and didn't care how many fish went belly up in the sea. He was done. That is until he saw her.

And now as he helped her out of the cab, his eyes were fixed on her. She was without question drunk, looking around trying to recognize where she was. When she turned to him, her dark brown eyes travelled slowly up his body, finally reaching his gaze. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, but her eyes made no effort to hide her emotions. What he saw was unbridled lust, fear, and apprehension.

"What's your name?" she asked reaching out to him for stability.

"You don't remember my name?" he asked smirking at her.

She began to slowly run her hands up his arms, causing a tingling sensation, to crawl under his skin down his spine.

"You never told me your name," she said looking at his chest now. He took the chance to really look her over. She looked gorgeous. She was just the way he liked his women, thick in all the right places, great tits, small waist, nice round hips, and a perfectly round ass.

"Francisco Dominguez, Franco," he said leaning into her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Call me Franco."

Realizing they'd been standing outside at the curb for a while now, he began to usher her up the walkway to his front door. He was fumbling with his keys, trying to unlock the door when she spoke.

"I can't sleep with you," she stated staring at her feet.

Franco opened the door, flicked on the hall light and pulled her inside. Holding her close to him, he tilted her face up to look at him. She avoided his eyes as she spoke.