His First Lady

#Chapter 4: Young Men Are The Best

“Tell me everything,” Cynthia says as she bursts like a whirlwind through my front door.

Garnar left for work with zero explanation about his reasoning for neither of us to go to Father’s golf event. I was so annoyed, that I needed someone to vent to. Two minutes into a phone conversation, Cynthia invited herself over.

I don’t mind. Cynthia is like a sister to me, and I’d rather not sit home alone all day thinking about everything. Reflecting on poor life decisions is much more fun with two people.

We move to the kitchen where I’ve placed out some fruit as snacks. Cynthia plops herself down on one of the nearby stools.

“Did you have s*x?”

“I’m never touching Garnar again,” I tell her.

She dramatically rolls her eyes. “Who is talking about Garnar? I mean with the call boy! Tell me he rocked your world!”

I purposefully avoid looking at her, but we’ve been friends long enough that my expression alone answers her question.

“I knew it!” He picks up a cherry and pops it into her mouth. “Young men are the best, aren’t they? Such… virility. And stamina. How many organism did you have?”

I’m almost embarrassed to say, it feels so personal. But this is a safe space. “By the end of the night… five.”

“Holy s**t!” Cynthia claps.

I agree wholeheartedly. Miles had surpassed every expectation I’ve ever had of s*x. With Garnar, I was lucky to come once. Miles made it more like a game, trying to see how many times he could push me over the edge just to bring me back.

“He made me feel young again,” I say.

“You are young,” Cynthia says.

I hum, non-committal. As Cynthia and I are the same age, protesting too much might be insulting to her.

“If it wasn’t for the kids, I’d probably leave Garnar and keep the guy from last night,” I say. I mean it as a joke. Mostly. I think.

Cynthia snorts. “You don’t need to keep anyone, Esther. You are beautiful, and smart, and have a lot of charm. You swept that guy last night right off his feet.”

“He was a call boy,” I remind her. “Anyone else wouldn’t look at me twice.”

“You are wrong,” Cynthia says. “You should have seen the way that guy looked at you. There was more than a paycheck in that guy’s eyes.”

I shake my head. “You are being –”

My ringing cell phone cuts me off. On reflex, I rush to answer it. If it’s Garnar, he expects me to answer by the third ring.

When I reach where it’s resting on the charger, though, the screen says it’s an unknown caller.

Strange, but I’m not afraid of unknown calls so I answer.

“This is Esther,” I say.

“Esther,” says the voice of a man. It’s familiar somehow. “Why did you leave me a blank check?”

Oh. It’s the call boy. How did he get this number? No matter, Cynthia must have given it when she made the appointment.

I’m taken aback for a moment by his call, and then by the angry tone of his voice.

“Isn’t that how things are typically done?” I ask, honestly confused. I’ve never been with a call boy before.

“You could have woken me, and we could have talked about this,” Miles says. “You didn’t have to sneak out on me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “It just seemed like that would be easier. It’s not a big deal though, just fill in whatever you think last night was worth. I’ll be happy to pay whatever you believe to be fair.”

As I speak, Cynthia’s eyes go wide as saucers.

“Esther,” Miles begins, but I’m afraid to listen to him. I really did enjoy our time together, and he could so easily convince me to see him again.

But I can’t. Mostly because what we shared wasn’t real. He’s just looking for a sugar mommy.

“Last night was a transition,” I say. “It was just physical. And while I enjoyed it deeply, I assure you, I don’t want you in my life anymore. Take the money, and we’re through.”

“But, Esther –”

I click off the phone before I can change my mind.

Immediately, he calls back. I ignore the call and then block his number.

Cynthia watches me. “You sure about this?”

“I can’t deal with this right now.”

I’m a standstill in life. I’m a housewife, but I’m deeply unhappy at home.

What I need, I decide, is a job.

When my daughters come back home, I share the idea with them and explain, “I will be busier than usual. It might be more difficult for us to spend as much time together.”

Iris and Violet give me a great big bear hug.

“You frown too much,” Violet says. “You should do something to make you happy.”

“We can take care of ourselves, Mom,” Iris says.

I initiate the next hug, so very proud of them. They are so mature for their age.

Later, sitting around the dinner table, I propose the same idea to Garnar. He laughs so hard, he nearly chokes on his steak.

“Be realistic, Esther. You really think any employer is going to hire you? You’ve been out of the workforce for ten years. You aren’t exactly a hot commodity.”

I force myself to stay calm, not wanting to fight in front of the girls. They already look worried enough, eyeing me with doe eyes.

A fire stokes within me, anger and hate boiling together.

How could this man, my partner of ten years, mock my ambitions and treat me as if I’m nothing? What happened to the man I had once loved? Or has he always been this way, and I was just too blind to notice?

The answers don’t come easily.

“Pick up another hobby if you are bored,” Garnar says. “But don’t embarrass me or my good name by trying to make something of yourself. You are my wife. That is enough.”

The girls look away from me, back to their food.

Garnar scoops a large spoonful of mashed potatoes from the bowl and smashes them down onto his plate.

“Maybe take a cooking class,” he says.

I push my plate away, no longer hungry.

After dinner, the girls go to their rooms to finish their homework and Garnar barricades himself in his office, likely to call Thea. I don’t want to think too much about what might be going on behind that closed door.

Reaching for my phone, I remember Miles’s earlier call. Oddly, I feel some kind of instinct to want to talk to him. Would he answer if I called him back?

I feel like he would.

No, Esther. Talking to him wouldn’t help anything.

Instead, I need something else to distract me. Something more permanent and less fake.

I unlock my phone and search through my contacts, looking for a familiar one. When I find it, I click and hit call.

The phone rings a few times. Then a woman answers, “Esther? What’s wrong?”

I take a deep breath, gathering my strength. Garnar thinks I will fail at anything I try.

I can’t wait to prove him wrong.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I say. “If it’s still on the table, I would like to accept the offer I previously declined.”