Dark Moon (11 page)

By the end of the
weekend, I was back in my happy world, a world that only consisted of Michael
and me. But I would have to re-enter the real world – at least for a few
days. Michael was leaving Monday morning for a conference and wouldn’t be back
until Thursday.

“What am I going
to do without you for four days?” I pouted on Sunday evening.

Michael laughed.
“It’s three and a half, and I’ll be counting down the minutes.” He paused and
said in a sexy voice. “And you’d better be here when I get back.”

Michael was always
making me romantic dinners. Maybe I could surprise him, do something special. I
wasn’t much of a cook, but I could buy sexy foods, like chocolate covered
strawberries or truffles. I remembered the mousse Michael had made the first
time he cooked for me, the first night I ever spent at his apartment. How we
had alternated kissing and eating, how it had finally ended with me being
fucked on top of the kitchen counter…

Yes, something
rich and chocolaty would definitely be on the menu. His apartment was already
romantic, with the beautiful view of the river and the elegantly styled rooms.
I’d get some candles and turn down
all
the lights, then slip into the
red lingerie he’d given me.

He isn’t even
gone yet and you’re already planning his return!
I knew I would be counting
the hours until he got back.

I used the time
that Michael was away to study like crazy. It was so difficult to think about
school when all I wanted was to spend every minute with Michael. As much as I
hated that he was out of town, it gave me the chance to catch back up on
schoolwork and reading.

By the time it was
Wednesday, I wanted to see Michael so badly that I thought I was going to lose
my mind. I could barely concentrate during class, and when I got to the
hospital I just hoped they would give me the most mundane task so I could zone
out and fantasize about surprising Michael tomorrow.

Nurse Evie very
happily told me I was going to be collecting the dirty bed sheets, since one of
the orderlies had called in sick. I really disliked Evie. Still, at least I
would be alone and not forced to talk to her.

So when I heard
her page me about halfway through my shift, I groaned in annoyance.
What
now?

I hurried to the
nurses’ station; Evie had an odd expression on her face.

“What’s up?” I
asked, trying to keep my tone even.

“So this lady
showed up a few minutes ago.” Nurse Evie gestured to a woman who was standing
about ten feet away, reading one of pamphlets from the rack on the wall.

“Okay,” I said,
even though I wanted to say,
Why the fuck would I care?

“She said she
needed to speak to you.”

“Huh?” I asked in
surprise.

“Yeah, I asked her
why. She said she needed to talk to Dr. Reynolds’ girlfriend.”

I felt the color
drain out of my face.

Seeing my
reaction, Evie said angrily, “No use in denying it. Your face says it all.”

“Why should I have
told you?” I shot back. “It’s my personal life,
my
business. It’s not
like you’re my friend.”
Shit. Why did I say that?
I didn’t need to give
her more reasons to make my life miserable.

Her face turned a
deep crimson. “Well, she said she needed to talk to you, that she’s his
ex-girlfriend. Her name is Abigail.” Evie paused. “Maybe you two can share
romantic stories,” she said sarcastically.

I turned away from
Evie, forcing myself not to say anything else to her. I didn’t want to go talk
to Abigail, but I couldn’t stand there forever, with my back to Evie.

“Abigail?” I said
coolly, walking towards her.

The woman turned
around, and, after looking me up and down, a superior smile broke out on her
face.

It was true that I
wasn’t dressed to impress. Michael was out of town. I had thrown on jeans, a
black knit top and sneakers. My hair was in a ponytail and I had no makeup on.

So what. That
doesn’t give her the right to act like she’s better than me.

I jutted my chin
out, trying to portray a confidence that I didn’t feel.

Of course, Abigail
was gorgeous. She was tall, blond, huge tits, bright blue eyes and the kind of
full lips women try to emulate with injections. I wasn’t so sure about the
boobs, but the lips were real. No trout-pout for Abigail.

“What do you
want?” I asked flatly, arms crossed over my chest.

Abigail smiled,
but it was devoid of any friendliness. “I wanted to check out Michael’s newest
piece of ass for myself.”

She’s trying to
push your buttons. Michael isn’t like that. Remember, she’s the one who cheated
on him.

So instead of saying
anything, I burst out laughing. At first it was fake, meant to show Abigail
that I was not a piece of ass and obviously our relationship was much better
than hers had been with Michael. But the stress of everything that had happened
lately, combined with my irrational fears of a future without Michael, quickly
turned my fake laughter into real – albeit borderline hysterical –
laughter.

I finally managed
to wipe the tears from my eyes and catch my breath. Abigail was looking at me
like I’d just grown a second head.

“You done?” she
asked, her tone nasty.

“Yes, it’s just
that what you said really cracked me up.” I giggled. “Maybe that’s what you
were to Michael, but my relationship – not that it’s any of your business
– is nothing like that.”

Abigail’s eyes
flashed angrily. “Well, I see he’s lowered his standards,” she snapped, still
intent on putting me down in any way possible.

Ignoring her slur,
I said in an exaggeratedly polite voice, “Really, Abigail, can you please tell
me why you’re here? I have a lot of work to do.”

“I want Michael
back,” she said. So that was it. She wanted him back, and the first step was
checking out – and potentially psyching out – the competition.

“I’m afraid it
doesn’t work that way. Michael is mine now.”

“We’ll see about
that.” A faint smile played at her lips. “Michael really values his family’s
opinion, and Becky had quite a few choice words to say about you.”

So that was how
Abigail knew about me, had found me. His niece wouldn’t let it drop; she was
determined that I wasn’t worthy of Michael but that Abigail was.

“Not to mention,
there’s quite an age difference. Michael’s mature, and he needs a mature woman
– like
me
. He’ll get bored with you soon enough. I don’t mind
waiting,” Abigail said smugly.

Abigail’s words
stung, but I couldn’t let her get into my head. So I decided to give her a
taste of her own medicine. “He may like mature women, but I don’t think he’s
into cougars,” I said apologetically.

Obviously Abigail
wasn’t a cougar, but she looked older than Michael, and if she was going to
pick at me about my age, I was going to do it right back to her.

Abigail’s face
turned a dark red.

Ha! I got to
her.

She leaned forward.
“I’ll have you know I’m only twenty-seven years old.”

“Really?” I asked,
honestly surprised. “Must be all that tanning you do. Brings out the wrinkles
at an early age.” I was being nasty, but she deserved it. And she really did
look older than twenty-seven – but who knew if she had told me the truth?
I would have pegged her at thirty-three.

“You’re a bitch,
just like Becky said,” Abigail snapped.

“It was nice to
meet you, Abigail,” I said, turning to go.

I was halfway down
the hall when I heard her call out, “It won’t be the last time you meet me,
either.”

I just kept
walking. I wasn’t really concerned that Michael would ever in a million years
be tempted by Abigail. She was semi-psychotic, for Christ’s sake. They’d been
apart for more than two years. Who comes up to someone’s workplace to
intimidate the new girlfriend?

But I
was
concerned
that Abigail was going to be a problem. A big problem. Stalking Michael,
threatening me, adding as much stress to our lives as possible in the hopes
that it would break us up and she could swoop in.

I sighed. I would
have to talk to Michael about it tomorrow. He dated her for a long time. Surely
he’d know how to handle her, how to make the Abigail problem go away. Right?

I spent the rest
of the day debating how to tell Michael about Abigail’s visit. But no matter
how I played out the scene in my head, it didn’t go well. If I told him as soon
as he walked through the door, our plan for a romantic evening would be ruined.
Hearing what she had done was going to make him angry, and even if he promised
to forget about it, it would be at the back of our minds for the rest of the
evening.

But, if I didn’t
tell him right away, waiting until the next morning, he might get pissed off
that I would keep that from him, even if it was just for a night.

Thank God Maryanne
was home when I got back to our dorm room. She’d know what to do.

“I need your
help,” I wailed, slinging my bag on my bed and flopping down next to it.

“What happened?”
she asked, a concerned look on her face.

“Abigail
happened,” I said morosely.

“And Abigail is
who? A nurse? A classmate?” Maryanne guessed.

“Nope, worse.
She’s Michael’s ex. The last girl he seriously dated before me. The one he
doesn’t like to talk about.”

“Oh, no, Lana!”
Maryanne exclaimed. “Has she done something? Is she making a play to get
Michael back?”

I quickly filled
Maryanne in on meeting Abigail. “And the worst part is, if I tell Michael when
he gets back tomorrow, it will put a real damper on the romantic evening I’ve
planned. But if I don’t tell him until the next day, what if he accuses me of
keeping things from him? I just don’t know what to do, MA!”

Maryanne nodded
slowly. “This is precisely what Abigail wants. Cause a rift between you and
Michael, increase the tension, stir up trouble.” Maryanne stood up and started
pacing.

“Tomorrow, don’t
say a word to Michael when he gets home. I doubt you’re planning to do much
talking anyway,” she said with a smirk.

 “The next
morning, still don’t say anything,” Maryanne continued.

“But-“ I started
to interrupt.

Maryanne held up
her hand. “Hear me out.”

I nodded.

“I assume you’ll
be spending most if not all of the weekend with Michael. That’s when you want
to tell him. Bring it up as though you ‘almost forgot’ about Abigail coming up
to the hospital.”

I shook my head.
“He’ll know that’s bullshit, that I obsess about everything.”

“Okay.” Maryanne
paused for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “So you say that you had every
intention of telling him the second he walked in the door, but once you saw him
all you could think about was fucking him.”

I laughed. “That actually
is believable,” I admitted.

“When you finally
do tell Michael over the weekend, just explain to him that every time you’re
together you just want to be in his arms, not discussing the
last
girl
who was in his arms. And – this is the most important part – he has
to absolutely have
no
contact with Abigail. People who do shit like that
want attention. If you and Michael don’t give her any, she will lose interest.
Believe me.” Maryanne sat back down on her bed.

“And I won’t have
to worry about him finding out Friday at the hospital. I looked at the schedule
and that big mouth Evie isn’t on it.” I paused, thinking. “I suppose it could
work,” I said slowly.

“It will –
but only if you don’t do anything to encourage her,” Maryanne warned. “I saw
this show once about a lady who was being stalked by a co-worker. She got a new
job but he just kept calling her. Changed her phone number but he got the new
one. So he was leaving her these crazy-ass messages – at first, they
seemed almost harmless. Begging her to give him a chance, to let him take her
on a date. But when she didn’t respond, it escalated.  He started saying
he would kill himself if he couldn’t have her.”

“What happened?” I
asked.

“She must have
ignored fifty messages, screened all of her calls for over a month. But then,
one day her phone rang, and she was so pissed off, so sick of him, that she
picked up the phone and told him to go to hell. That was it. Nothing we haven’t
all said to someone before.”

“Let me guess,” I
said. “The phone calls doubled? He started showing up at her house?”

Maryanne shook her
head. “Nope, he fucking got a gun and killed her.”

“Yikes, so you’re
saying you think Abigail is capable of
murder
?”

“Nah, I’m not
saying that at all. Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. The moral of the story is,
people like that want attention. They can’t feed their fantasy if it’s all
one-sided. If Michael even acknowledges what Abigail’s trying to do, she’s
likely to up the ante. You know, decide somehow in her fucked up head that
Michael telling her to leave him alone means he still loves her.”

“But what if she
shows up at his apartment?” I whispered.

“Call the cops.”
Maryanne’s voice was deadly serious. “And if she shows up at the hospital, call
security. And if she shows up at school, get the campus guard. You get the
drift.”

“Now you’re really
scaring me,” I muttered.

“I’m not trying
to, but you need to be aware of the potential, and be prepared for anything you
can think of.”

“Okay.” I gulped.

“But don’t think
about it now. And that’s an order!” Maryanne said. “Michael comes back
tomorrow. What are you going to wear? How did you decide to surprise him? I
want all the details!”

I laughed. I could
feel my shoulders start to relax. I hadn’t even realized I had been holding
them tight all day.
Maybe Michael will give me a massage tomorrow.

Maryanne suggested
we open a bottle of wine. I still wasn’t sure where she got them – maybe
from Toby? – but she seemed to have a bottle handy whenever she felt like
a drink.

I wasn’t
complaining. We were long overdue for a girls’ night. We stayed up until almost
three a.m., long after two bottles were gone and we had decided it would be a
good idea to open a third. I remember making a comment that Maryanne must have
a hidden underground cellar with an endless booze supply, which sent us into
fits of giddy laughter.

I was shocked that
my tolerance for alcohol was so high. I used to be such a lightweight.
Must
be all the bottles of wine I share with Michael.
But Michael and I never
got drunk, and by the time I went to bed there was no denying that I was most
definitely drunk.

When my alarm went
off on Thursday morning, I didn’t even try to pretend I was going to get up. I
turned it off instead of hitting snooze.

“Ugh,” I heard
Maryanne groan from the bed on the other side of the room. “Make it stop.” But
the alarm was already off, and within minutes we were both fast asleep.

###

I didn’t wake back
up until around noon. Maryanne was still sleeping. I walked into the kitchen
and grabbed two bottled waters, then went over to Maryanne’s bed and tapped her
lightly on the shoulder with one of them.

“Wake up, drunky
head,” I said wryly.

“Shit, what time
is it?” She rolled over and smoothed her frazzled hair.

“You don’t want to
know. Suffice to say we’ve missed at least two classes each.”

“Oh, well, I
didn’t do the homework anyway.” She grabbed one of the bottles from me and
downed about three-fourths of it. I did the same with mine.

“Yeah, I don’t
think I missed anything important. At least I hope not,” I said worriedly. “But
hey, it was worth it. We haven’t stayed up like that in forever!”

Maryanne smiled.
“I agree, but we should have planned it for the weekend!”

“I’m actually not
too hung-over,” I admitted.

“Me neither,” she
said. “We must have slept it off.”

“Yeah. I think
I’ll blow off my other class today since I’ve already missed two. I want to do
some shopping for tonight.”

“I’ll come with,”
Maryanne offered.

“Perfect! I’d love
the company.”

We quickly got
dressed, slapped on some makeup and headed out the door.