I stood in line outside the dingy club in St. Louis, rubbing my hands over my exposed arms to keep warm. It was the middle of October, and the fall chill was setting into a winter briskness. Goosebumps popped up across my skin as a cool breeze blew past. The thigh-high boots, sweater and short leather skirt I wore did little to staunch the cold.
I was in line to get in to see Dean and the rest of ‘Die Trying’ play their set tonight. I’d asked Dean why he hadn’t put me on the approved guest list and he’d patronized me, saying “that’s just not how it works babe” with a kiss on my cheek.
I was pretty sure the opening band can leave a list of approved guests, and you’d expect that the drummer’s long-term girlfriend would be an acceptable addition, but who was I to argue?
Each small, cutting remark, like that one, chipped away at my confidence, leaving me feeling stupid. They were starting to wear me down. But, after six years of being together, starting over with someone else seemed like a fresh form of torture, so I sucked it up.
I approached the bouncer at the front of the line and handed him my ID card. He scanned it lazily and waved me inside without a second glance.
Stepping into the club, the thick smell of stale beer, cigarettes, and sweat overwhelmed me. I never would have come to a dive bar like this had Dean not been playing tonight. I’d much rather curl up at home with a warm blanket and a good book.
I looked around, trying to spot him among the sizable crowd of people gathering in front of the stage. When I didn’t immediately see him, I walked up to the bar and flagged down a bartender. He gave me a brief nod, letting me know that he’d seen me and would be down my way in just a minute.
While I waited for the bartender to take my order, I did another once over on the crowd. I spotted what looked like it might be Dean over to the left-hand side of the stage, but there was a skinny, scantily clad brunette standing next to him with her hand resting intimately on his arm. Because their backs were to me, I dismissed it as a coincidence and returned my attention to the bar.
I ordered my beer, paid my tab, and turned around to continue looking for Dean. The couple I’d spotted earlier had since made their way closer to the stage and I could see now that I was wrong - it was Dean. A quiet rage flowed through my system as I watched him head towards the rest of the band.
He jumped up onto the stage with finesse and the brunette stood on her tiptoes as he leaned down and gripped her behind the neck, planting an obscene kiss on her red painted lips.
What the actual fuck?
He retreated to his drum kit, wiping the lipstick off his mouth as he sauntered over and straddled his stool. Despite knowing that what he was doing was wrong, his confidence suggested that he believed he wouldn’t get caught. I guess that’s why he didn’t put me on the guest list. He wanted his plaything to see him play tonight.
The rush of fury that invaded my body had me vibrating as I chugged my beer. I couldn’t believe him. I had undeniable proof that he was cheating on me; his actions left no room for doubt or any other explanation. How long had this been going on? How had I not seen something sooner? Lastly, why didn’t it surprise me?
With a frustrated sigh, I turned toward the bartender, wiping the condensation from my empty bottle as I slammed it down onto the bar top, and ordered two more beers. I was about to get royally fucked up.
I leftafter Dean began his set; not staying to see the rest of the show. I caught an Uber back to our apartment and paced. I felt lost; my whole life revolved around Dean, and I didn’t know what to do. Six years, a lifetime of shared moments, now felt like a dwindling ember threatening to extinguish. All because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
The meager furnishings of the living room blurred throughmy tear-filled vision as I stumbled into our shared bedroom, the emptiness echoing the hollowness in my heart.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and untied my well-worn Doc Martens and slid them off one at a time. When I got the first one off, I reared my arm back and slung it across the room. With a deafening crash, it shattered against the mirror on the far wall, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor.
I slid off the edge of the bed and clutched my knees to my chest. Tears dripped off my cheeks onto my knees and I didn’t bother wiping them away. I felt stuck. I had intertwined my life so thoroughly with Dean’s that I couldn’t see a way out.
The sudden, sharp bang of a slamming door ripped me from sleep, my body stiff and aching from lying curled on the floor. I must have fallen asleep at some point and not bothered to remove the rest of my clothes or climb into bed.
Another slam came from the kitchen and I stood up, righting my skirt and wiping the salty crust from my puffy, tear-stained eyes. I didn’t bother looking in a mirror.Dean could see me at my worst for all I cared.
Tiptoeing from the bedroom, I entered the adjacent living room and open-plan kitchen; the silence broken only by the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Dean had his head in the fridge, rifling around for something.
“Looking for something?” I asked without hesitation.
He jumped, and in his haste to remove his head from the fridge, smacked the back of it on the shelf.
“Fuck, Stell. You scared the shit outta me.” He complained as he rubbed at the back of his sweat soaked hair. I had secretly hoped he’d have knocked himself out, but I couldn’t get that lucky.
To appear stronger, I pulled my shoulders back, the fabricof my shirt rustling slightly as my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I felt the tremor of insecurity bubbling beneath the surface of my forced confidence. My heart was racing and I could hear the beat thumping in my skull.
Dean walked over to me and put both his hands on my hips. His grip was not only firm but verged on painful, causing me to wince. I uncrossed my arms to push against his chest. He reeked of cheap perfume, alcohol, and cigarettes. A lethal combination of bad decisions.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he slurred as he pulled me closer, kissing down the slope of my neck. “I’m sorry I’m a little late, took us longer to pack up than we expected.”
I pushed against him again and took a fortifying step back. I steeled my spine and willed myself not to cry. If I was going to get through this, I was going to have to pretend that my entire life wasn’t falling apart at the seams.
“I saw you, Dean.”
“I’m sure you did, babe. We fucking killed it up on that stage tonight.”
