Soundtrack to an Affair

A guilt-wrought piece about considering betrayal.

 

“I can’t do this” she thought for the hundredth time, as her eyes refused to close. Staring at the ceiling was not helping anything. Rather, it sent her into a state of numbness that she used to cover up the guilt. Just a few nights before, she’d had that dream; the one that wouldn’t quit playing over and over in her brain. The one where the love of her life had disappeared into thin air, where she felt so strongly in every ounce of her being in love with someone else. Someone, whom, in real life, she was just beginning to know.

The morning after had begun a torturous pattern of scrutinizing every bit of her relationships with people. Especially him. The possibility of having feelings for someone else after spending so long with one man just about killed her. And the even worse possibility was that her new friend held the same kinds of feelings for her. If he did, it showed.

She contemplated different endings to the situation. Should she end her problem-riddled relationship with her boyfriend? Should she keep participating in these awkward, playful exchanges? If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture the progression of their relationship if only she’d give in to the thundering desire in her being for excitement. They’d be good friends. There was enough in common there for it to be evident. But possibly, in some conversation, she’d speak without thinking, or he would. They could be as obvious as they wanted, but she doubted he would bring any feelings into the open on purpose. Once the breaking point had been reached, though, there’d be nothing left to do but shatter someone’s heart. It was just a question of whose.

The ceiling was dizzyingly high now, and the track on her mp3 player changed. This album, this f*****g album, which she’d just burned the night before was taunting her. It had been just another excuse for them to meet. The entire time, she’d managed to keep from shaking. The intense concentration on appearing anything but nervous had been distracting. It was so much easier to be honest when they wrote the words of their conversations down. Texting, chatting, whatever. Anything but talking one-on-one, face-to-face. Anything but seeing him in person after the romance-strewn nightmares she’d been experiencing. The problem was not that he might like her.

The problem was that she was growing ever more excited to hear from him, that she was considering diminishing her already-rocky relationship. For what? To find out that his feelings weren’t mutual? If she were to end a relationship, it would be for the right reasons: it wasn’t working, he treated her badly, etc. There was no fair reason to end that. But to end the potential affair that she was dreaming of, there were plenty of reasons, the foremost being her loyalty. And, oh, how many different ways could she do it?

Softly. It had to be softly. Her concern for someone she’d known such a short time was a definite sign of the gravity of the situation. They’d be good friends. That’s what she wanted. To so enjoy spending time with a friend was perfectly blissful in itself. It was emotions that would f**k it all up.

While all the decisions in question still shifted in her head, she pulled herself from the sofa and moved to the bed, where she piled her body under blankets that used to cheer her up. Now they terrified her.

She could get away with it. She could love them both, but that would mean hurting both of them in the end. Her friend deserved better than an emotionally-tied f**k buddy. Her boyfriend deserved better than a cheating b***h. Still, as the music played on, influencing her decisions, pounding in her mind, she considered whether there was any happy ending to this story. Not for her, at least.

“I can’t do this.” She said strongly to herself.

And the worst song for that moment began to play. The one that she liked the most until this moment, when she realized how relevant the lyrics were, how close the drumbeats were to her pounding heart, how painstakingly similar the alternating meanings behind every note were to the complicated feelings composed inside of her.

Before she knew it, she was back at square one, remembering the whole process by which she’d attained the music. She had to hear it, he’d told her. He was right. She sank into misery, knowing that, however right he may be about anything, all she could ever justify doing was to wrong him.