“Please don’t go to New York City. Stay with me … I need you,” a naked Mr. Callahan begs on his knees, his arms wrapped around my waist and his face buried in my equally naked and flat stomach.
With the aroma of sweat and sex still floating in the air and the lingering taste of his semen on my tongue, I observe how a grown man who I’ve admired for his power and influence in this small town turns into a child at my feet. I want to push him away, but instead I let my hands settle on top of his head, splaying my fingers in his soft brown hair. “I can’t, Matthew … I can’t continue living under the same roof as my mother. I want to get out of this town.”
Soon after I started sleeping with Mr. Callahan, my parents got divorced. Not that it came as a surprise to anyone, especially me. They didn’t really care what happened to me. My dad said I needed to be with my mom, and my mom said I needed to be with my dad. At the end of the day, I ended up living with my mom—but only because she got the house. However, in a week I turn eighteen and I’ll leave this town with all of its ugly and bitter memories and never turn back.
“Don’t … if you need a place to live, let me get you an apartment. I’ll pay for it—I’ll pay for everything—anything you want. I’ll give you the life you’ve always wanted,” he says, bringing me back to this moment.
“How different would that arrangement be from what we have going on, Matthew? You already pay for everything I own.”
And it’s true. As a child, I didn’t want toys—I wanted the love of my parents. But during my time fucking Paige’s dad, I’ve discovered the seductive power of money, of having someone support me and buy me all the nice things I want for sex in return. With Mr. Callahan in my life, there was no need for my parents—he helped me to finally cut the “umbilical cord.” Mr. Callahan gave me that and more just for regular head in the backseat of his Audi while his wife thought he was at work. His money and protection have shown me how independent I can be just by spreading my legs.
“I don’t know, Blaire … I don’t know … please don’t leave me. I love you,” he says, his breath hitting my skin. “I love you, Blaire,” he repeats as he begins to kiss my stomach and every part of me his lips can touch, inhaling me.
I lift my eyes and stare at my reflection in the smudged mirror above the bed, observing how empty my eyes look—like bottomless pits filled with nothing.
Nothing.
“If you love me as you say, you need to let me go. I need to get out of this place …”
“But what about me? What about us? Is it because I’m married?”
I laugh, and the sound is chilling even to my own ears. “I don’t think it matters, Matthew. I’ve already made up my mind and nothing you say will change it.”
He lets go of me and stands up. The big, wide shoulders that I’ve seen so many times shaking with mirth, or supporting my legs as he goes down on me, hang in defeat. “One day, you’re going to fall in love with a man and I hope he breaks your heart, Blaire. When that happens, you’ll know what kind of pain you’re capable of inflicting, and maybe then you’ll grow a heart and hopefully find your humanity.”
I want to say that I doubt it, but I remain silent. Sometimes silence speaks louder than words, and I have nothing left for him. “I’m sorry for hurting you, Matthew, but I thought you knew, like me, that this wasn’t going to last forever.”
Overcome with feeling, Matthew doesn’t reply but simply shakes his head as he takes one last look at me and then makes his way to the bathroom.
With the sound of the shower running in the background, I get dressed. As the black cotton of my dress flows down my body, I allow myself to think of Mr. Callahan one last time. The memory of the way he looked at me before he disappeared in the bathroom makes my heart contract, so I apologize to him wordlessly for causing him pain and hope that one day he forgives me. I’m not worthy, and one day he will see that too.
When I’m ready to leave, I take one last look at the seedy place, but instead of trying to engrave its look in my head, I pour all my memories back into this room. I’m not taking anything with me: not one smile, not one kiss, not one memento. I don’t want them. I don’t have any need for them. What I am taking is everything you can put a price on, everything that I care for, everything that won’t hurt me—all the gifts and money he showered me with.
And isn’t money what makes the world go round?
As I’m closing the door behind me, a small thought crosses my mind that maybe I’m more fond of Mr. Callahan than I care to admit. But in the end, it doesn’t matter.