To: Ellie Donahue
From: Gwen Monroe
Subject: Checking In!

    

          Hey!

          Haven't heard from you in a while.  Work has been kicking my ass, so I haven't had a chance to call.  How are things going with Captain Asshole and Sexy Soccer Guy?  Is Derek still talking to that evil, hairy, whore of his?  Just so you know, I am creating a nice Power Point to present to you that would detail a very efficient way for us to remove him of his balls while he sleeps.  It's really quite thorough, has color pictures.  Let me know, right?

     Gwen

 

 

 

 

To: Gwen Monroe
From: Ellie Donahue
Subject:  RE: Checking In

     Hello sweetie!

     Sorry to hear work is hitting you so hard.  I know you will sucker punch it right back though, because, well, you are pretty awesome like that!

     Um, yeah, Derek is still talking to her.  I was trying to be all stone about the whole thing, but I broke this morning and checked his phone while he was in the shower, and she has been calling him at least once a day for a couple weeks.  Yesterday, he even called her.  I don't even understand all this.

     Not that I am not a horrible person in my own right.  I was at Patrick's apartment last weekend to help with some soccer stuff, and he kind of put the moves on me.  We almost kissed, but Derek called, and well, let's just say it killed the moment. 

     I have play dates set up for both kids tomorrow afternoon so that he and I can get together and sort all this out. 

     Can I take a moment here and tell you what a horrible mother I am that I spent the week trying to find a way to make my children disappear for a few hours so I can go to the apartment of an incredibly hot single guy who seems to want to sleep with me?

     I am fairly certain this will revoke my nomination for the Mother of the Year award...

    

     Ellie

 

 

 

 

To: Ellie Donahue
From: Gwen Monroe
Subject:  NO WAY......

          WHAT!?!?!

          He tried to kiss you?!  Like, really, had lips out, puckered and everything?  What happened?  Did you try to kiss him back?  Seriously, OH MY GOD!!!!

          By the way, I am sitting here making fun of you pretty hard for using the phrase, "Put the moves on me."  Seriously, are you from the fifties or something?

          And Derek is calling that bitch?  I am going to kick his ass, like I am not even kidding. 

         

          Gwen

 

 

 

 

To: Gwen Monroe
From: Ellie Donahue
Subject:  YES WAY......

     Well, don't book your plane ticket to fly down here and smack Derek around just yet.  Keep in mind I am being just as whore-y right now too.

     And what am I supposed to say, he was trying to bone me?!

     I am completely serious about him trying to kiss me.  It was unbelievable, and I am just going to say it, it was so hot my bra was melting.  I want to think I am a better person than all this, but yeah, I am pretty sure I would have kissed him back. 

     Is it just me or does this sound like junior high?  Like I should pass him a note on the soccer field that says "DO YOU LIKE ME?  Circle Y or N....." 

     I am going over tomorrow afternoon.  I don't know what is going to happen.  You know, should I really be putting so much into a marriage that Derek has clearly checked out of?  If he is calling this woman, and talking about God knows what, and who knows, planning God knows what, then why am I feeling so damn guilty about even going over to talk to Patrick?  Part of me wants to just say "Screw it" and go for it.  There is this incredibly gorgeous man who wants me (his words not mine, by the way) and all that is keeping me from banging him into the carpet is the thought of my family, which is already broken thanks to Derek and that hairy mole woman.

     The other part of me is the one that really loves Derek and remembers what it felt like when we weren't entangled in this insanity, and wants so badly to get back to that. 

     You know what?  He is the one who skipped out first, and he is the one who is keeping it going by talking to her!  Not that two wrongs make a right and all that, but why should I give a shit when he obviously doesn't?!

     Oh, crap, it is getting late, I have to go run some errands before dinner.

     Love you honey!

 

 

 

 

To: Ellie Donahue
From: Gwen Monroe
Subject:  RE: YES WAY.....

     Elle,

     I cannot believe that Patrick was all over you like that!  I am SOOO jealous!!  Oh man, he is so sexy, it makes my eyes water. 

     And you are exactly right!  Derek fucked this up, and as long as you are being smart about it, and thinking it through, I think you should totally go for it! 

     Hot, that man is hot.  Can't say that enough, girl.

     Okay, so you are going to his apartment tomorrow, you have to tell me EVERYTHING, do you hear me?  EVERYTHING, or I will hunt you down...

 

     Love you too!

 

 

 

 

To: Gwen Monroe
From: Ellie Donahue
Subject:  Whoa.

     Um.  Wow.

     Okay, so last night, I got back from my errands, and when I walked into the house, I almost fell over.  Derek had sent the kids over to Jenny Miller's house so she could baby sit, and there he was, I swear to all things holy, he had this fancy romantic dinner all laid out, we are talking table cloths, candles, music playing and everything, and he was wearing a suit.  A SUIT!  He hasn't worn anything of the sort since we got married for crying out loud! 

     The entire time I have known him, he has never done anything like that.  Ever.

     I was so shocked I didn't know what to say, and for a second, I was so freaked out I almost turned and ran upstairs to hide... 

     What made this situation even more hideous was that in my hand was a bag from our pharmacy that had things like razors and mascara in it because, well, I was sort of planning to maybe, um, look nice when I go Patrick's. 

     Yeah, it wasn't hideous at all.

     I think he sensed I was going to run because he kind of jolted towards me and took my hands and was all, "We need to talk."

     I was totally speechless, but he led me over to our table, (he had lobster, LOBSTER Gwen!) and I sat down all slack jawed, staring at this guy, who sort of looked like my husband, but I am not sure.  He sat across from me and took my hands and started pouring all this stuff out to me, like, saying how sorry he was forever kissing that Veigh (whore, I may have added that in my head, but whatever), and how he was never interested in her, and that he was never going to speak to her ever again.  He even pulled out his cell phone and showed me that he had deleted her from his contacts.

     I was about to snap at him that I saw he had called her, less than twenty-four hours ago, but I didn't even have to!  He just offered it up that she had always contacted him, but that he called her this one time and told her that she was never to speak to him again, not even attempt to, that he was ashamed he had ever let himself get sucked up into endangering his marriage for something so stupid, and that he made sure she understood that he wanted her to forget his number, but if she ever did try to get a hold of him, that he would not be answering.

     I know this sounds terrible, but I wanted so badly NOT to believe him.  I have had it in my head for so long now that he is some lying, cheating bastard, but when he was in front of me, I think it was him at least, this Derek that I have never seen before, I think I really did trust what he was saying.  It really freaked me out.  I have been walking around thinking he was just signed out completely that he wasn't even remotely invested at all, and when he was talking, my mind was racing and I started wondering if I was only seeing and hearing what I wanted to see and hear to make him look as bad as possible.  Don't get me wrong, I know he has screwed up, like really, really bad, but I am seriously confused as to whether or not I was just looking for his fuck ups to kind of help me feel better about what I was doing with Patrick?

     I feel like I am losing my mind.

     I also feel like an enormous slut, in case you were curious.

     Derek was so determined, so in charge.  He is always so passive, and whenever I want to talk about things, he just sort of half answers while staring at his computer.  I don't remember the last time we had a serious conversation about something, let alone one that he instigated!

     He told me he loves me, he begged me to forgive him for putting our family at risk, and the kicker was that he suggested that we go to marriage counseling together so that we can make sure we sort through things the "right" way.  Marriage counseling!  Can you even hear him saying something like that???  I was there, and I still can't process it!

     The hardest part was when he got down on his knees, seriously, on his knees like he was proposing, and he professed that he was going to do whatever it takes to earn back my trust, and prove to me that he could keep it.

     I seriously didn't know what to do or say.  I finally just told him I needed to sort it all out, and to think about things, and I totally expected him to shut down, or flip out, but he didn't.  "I respect that you are going to have to take as much time as you need to figure out if you are even willing to give me this chance to make right the things I have messed up so badly."  That is what he said.  No, really. 

     So then I really did get up and ran upstairs to hide in the bathroom.  Classy, right?

     I feel horrible.  Like really, really low.  Here I am, plotting to go over to my daughter's soccer coach's apartment tomorrow with smooth legs and lengthened lashes!!  I even bought a fancy new deodorant that smells like grapefruit!  All the while, my supposedly evil, cheating, bastard of a husband it running around trying to fix things, being all repentant. 

     What am I going to do?  No really, tell me what to do!!! 

     I am supposed to meet Patrick tomorrow after the soccer camp, and even though the whole "talk" thing is the pretense, I am fairly positive that isn't the only intent, you know what I mean?  And up until an hour ago, I was all intrigued and buying razors with moisturizing strips, which I would take to mean that I was more on board with the bad behavior than I am exactly wanting to admit here.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-fuckity-fuckfuckfuck.

     Help me.

     Desperately signing off,

     Ellie

 

     P.S.  Oh sweet Jesus, he looked so beautiful in that suit.

 

 

 

 

To: Ellie Donahue
From: Gwen Monroe
Subject:  RE: Whoa.

     OMG.

     I cannot, even a little bit, see Derek doing that!  He is not exactly known for his grand romantic gestures, not now, not ever.  That is so unreal what he did!

     Wow, dude, I feel really bad about planning to de-ball him, a little bit. 

     So wait, you were gonna pretty yourself up for Patrick, so I take it you are just as into him and he is into you, right?  Are you still going over there?  What are you going to do when you get there? 

     Seriously Ellie, this is like a huge deal!  Now, I tend to lean on the slutty side of things in most cases, and while the idea of Sexy Soccer Guy naked has been giving me a good thrill the last few nights (hey, it's been a busy week, haven't had time to troll for my own hot guys, cut me some slack) but at the same time, I mean it's you and Derek, and as much as he has been pissing me off the last few weeks, I have always loved him a lot.

     And he does look pretty delicious in a suit, just saying...

     For real, what are you going to do??

 

 

 

 

To: Gwen Monroe
From: Ellie Donahue
Subject:  NO!!!!

     NO!  You are not supposed to ask me questions, you are supposed to tell me what to do!!!

     Gwen, there was a tulip on my pillow this morning.  A tulip.  My favorite flower, that even though I have always said it is my most loved of foliage, I have never once received a single one from him.  And there it was, lying there, all pretty and purple, from my husband, the one I have spent the last few weeks hating an awful lot.

     A tulip.

    

     What am I going to do?

 

     Oh God, it is time to take Ollie to school and Abby to camp.  I am supposed to go over to his house right after.

    

     I am in big trouble here, aren't I? 

     I will message you when I get back.

 

     Your heathen of a friend,

     Ellie

 

 

 

 

To: Ellie Donahue
From: Gwen Monroe
Subject:  ???????????????

     How did it go????  What happened???

 

 

 

 

To: Ellie Donahue
From: Gwen Monroe
Subject:  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????????????

 

     WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!???  I am dying here!!!  

 

 

 

 

To: Gwen Monroe
From: Ellie Donahue
Subject:  .........

     Um.  Where do I begin?

     I trudged through the world’s longest soccer camp today.  And while my watch seemed to say that it was the same four hours as every other soccer camp, I feel as though it was lying, or at the very confusing the time of a second with the time of an hour, causing this morning to drag like we were all in slow motion.  I couldn't look Patrick in the eye the whole time, but he did pass by once and whispered "Are we still on?" to which I think I may have willed my neck to nod, but not sure if it actually did.

     Abby and Oliver went off on their play dates, and I drove off to Patrick's.  The ride should have taken about ten minutes, but it was almost half an hour before I got there because I kept chickening out and turning around to go home, but then I would wimp out of that, and head back to Patrick's.

     I sat in the parking lot of his apartment building for hours (in reality about five minutes) and debated what I should do.  I finally decided that I was going to have to tell him that this was just a terrible plan, and that the timing couldn't be worse, and come clean about everything that was happening in my marriage.  Good plan, I thought.

     When I went inside, I almost threw up. 

     It was like a bizarre replica of what Derek had done last night.  There was soft music, although instead of the sweet romantic melodies that Derek had played, Patrick's were more along the lines of music to um, fornicate to.  At one point I swear I heard Barry White...  He didn't have the lobster or table clothes, but he did have red wine.  The candles were the same, but in place of Derek's dashing suit, Patrick had changed into a black t-shirt that was blissfully snug in all the right places, hugging his shoulders, his chest, his biceps, and dark grey cords in place of the track pants I had grown accustomed to seeing him in.

     I honestly felt like I was in some insane parallel universe.  I'm not entirely sure that I am not still in one....

     Even though I had learned my lesson about day time drinking with the mimosa's a few weeks ago, I took the wine when he offered.  I was really feeling the need for some of the relaxing effects of alcohol, or perhaps I was seeking a touch of liquid courage to be able to follow through with my plan, for while my plan was good in theory, it did not include any provisions as to how to deal with the perfectly clinging shirt.

     When he handed me my glass, he leaned in and tried to kiss my neck, which freaked me out and I jumped so hard, it even had him flinch a little.

     "Patrick," I said, "We really need to talk."

     We sat down, and I started explaining things to him, about how I was very attracted to him, but that did not change the fact that I was a married woman.  I told him how Derek had not exactly been in top form as of late, and that I felt like I had been using Patrick to try and make my husband jealous, to hurt him for what he had done, and I apologized for using him, and so on.  It was not a fun conversation, but I was really very proud of myself for even getting it out. 

     I said I was sorry again, and told him it would be best if I left, but he insisted that since had been able to have my say, he should get to have his. 

     Clearly a bad idea, but who am I to be unfair?

     He slid beside me on the couch, our knees were touching, his left arm was positioned on the couch, sort of wrapped around me, but without actually making contact.  Of course he was close enough that I could smell the cologne that he had most certainly just put on a fresh batch.  That fucking cologne.

     He informed me that he had wanted me from the moment he walked on the soccer field, that it was the sneakers that did it, and that he hadn't been able to get me out of his head.  It was all said with a very sexy tone, but honestly it felt like a monologue out of a soap opera.  The most riveting parts were when he took my gently rubbed his palm over my knee, and when he took my hand in his.  It can't be said that he isn't as hot as it gets, but honestly it just came off like he was trying to, I don't know, like seduce me or something.  It didn't seem as genuine as I had thought (hoped?) it would have.  I was grateful in a way because it made it that much easier once he was finished, to once again proclaim that I was going home, back to my admittedly somewhat rocky marriage, but back to what I felt was the right thing to do.

     Now here is where things get, well, um, a little off.

     After I reiterated my stance, he just sort of stood up and chuckled.  He went to the kitchen to pour himself some more wine, and I asked him what he found so funny.

     "I just think it is kind of funny that you are willing to give up what you want because your loser husband came home last night with some big speech." 

     "Hey, you do not talk about him like that!" I shot up, and was right up after him.  I was pretty surprised at how pissed off I was. "You don't get to say anything about him, you don't even know him.  And I am not giving up something I want, I told you that what I want is to go home and fix my marriage."

     By this point he was making it incredibly easy for me to know with great certainty that I was making the right decision.  His cocky attitude that I had seen in him when we first met had resurfaced, and it was not a good look on him.

     "So you really think he won't cheat on you again?" he smirked and walked towards me.

     "I can't say that," I was turning red with anger, how dare him, I mean really.  "But I do think the he is working really hard to make things better."

     When he scoffed at me, and actual scoff, I was just over the whole thing.  I moved away from him and went to pick up my bag to leave.

     "You know what, I think you had better find yourself another assistant coach for the rest of the camp." I sniped, "I really don't think we should be working with each other anymore."

     I stomped past him into the kitchen to grab my jacket off a chair, and he popped up behind me, blocking my exit path in that way that he does.  He is very stealth...

     "That's probably a good idea," that fucking smirk, "You know who I think might be a good replacement for you?"

     "You are being a complete asshole, you know that right?"  I tried to move past him, but he countered.

     "I am thinking that Natalie woman could fit the bill," his tone was baiting, "Don't you think she has the right stuff, Ellie?"

     "Oh my God, what is wrong with you?" I snapped, "Do you seriously think that by making me jealous, that is going to just magically change my mind?"

     See, there is where I went wrong.  I said "making me jealous" when I should have just said nothing at all, or at least said "trying to make me jealous".  I fell right into his little trap and once again his tone changed and he was moving closer to me asking, "So, it does make you jealous, then?"

     The next five minutes or so consisted of me stammering to regain my argumentative footing, and him getting smoother and smoother.  I am not sure how he did it, but he was talking in circles, and at some point I just got completely lost.  I can't even remember what he said, even worse, I can't remember what I said!  The tone of our fight went from me yelling and being firm against his petty, childishness, to him suddenly having me feeling jealous and confused, with him standing dangerously close, his physical presence overpowering my ability to think rationally.

     However he did it, whatever it was he said, it caused me to flip out.  When he very quietly asked me how crazy it would drive me to see him working with her, I sort of lost it and pushed him away from me, followed quickly by me throwing my jacket at him as hard as I could, screaming something along the lines of him and his asshole-ishness, and how ridiculous it was that he would even think of something like that when she didn't even have a kid on the stupid soccer team.  I should have known before I snapped that this is exactly how I got myself into trouble last time, and just as before, he seemed to thrive on my fury.  Before I even knew what had happened, he had grabbed me by my upper arms, restraining me, and pulling me into him.  At the moment, I hated him for his manipulation, but it seemed that the hate just fueled the passion that was building up from our altercation.  My head was wisely instructing me to punch him, but that suggestion was being drowned out by another part of me that was demanding I rip his shirt off and bite his chest. 

     "You don't really want to go, do you?" he whispered inches from my face, "You don't want us to stop."

     I didn't.  I mean, I did, but not as much as I wanted to stay.  He had an incredible hold over me, both physically in the way he was roughly using my arms to hold me tightly against him, and mentally, as he had somehow managed to render my plan, my responsible, perfectly applicable plan, completely obsolete. 

     I wanted to answer, respond screaming for him to let me go, for him to go to hell, but I knew that if I opened my mouth, the exact opposite would ring out.  Instead I held his piercing stare, breathing hard.

     His grip tightened on my arms, to the point of hurting me, causing me to let out a small cry, and he pulled me closer still where I could fee every part of his body pressed up against mine.  And I do mean every part. 

     "I knew you didn't want to leave." he smiled, the infuriating words passing so quietly over his smirking lips, and he leaned in.

     For the first time, his mouth actually made contact with my own.  Just as his lips brushed onto mine, it happened.

     The fire alarm went off.

     The sharp sound jerked the two of us away from each other, and we turned to see that behind him, his kitchen table was in flames.  Remember the jacket I threw at him?  Well, it landed on the candle he had burning on the table, and was now engulfed in a quite large fire, that was growing rapidly.

     Patrick darted to the cabinet under his kitchen sink and pulled out a fire extinguisher.  I ran over to see if there was anything I could find to help lessen the flames, but came up short.  The alarm sound was deafening, and I could hear people making their way down the hallway outside his front door, their raised voices, noticeably panicked. 

     Patrick finally managed to pull the pin out of the extinguisher, and just as he the hose to douse the fire, we were treated to an indoor downpour as the buildings sprinkler system went off.

     We stood there staring at each other, hearing the fire fizzle out beside us, and before we could say anymore, I shook my head, walked over to pick up my bag off the floor, and left without looking back at him once.

    

     Yeah.  So that went well. 

     I have to say that it was really fun having to drive home soaking wet, and thinking of how I was going to explain the loss of my favorite jacket to inquiring minds.

 

     So.  How was your day?

 

     Love,

     Ellie