Creep - Jennifer Hillier [38]
Sheila nodded again, afraid to speak.
“As an addict, I get the shame. I get the desire to keep the addiction a secret, to not want to admit it to yourself or to anyone, to keep that part of you compartmentalized so that you can try and have some semblance of a normal life.” He took a breath. “But what I don’t get is how you could have kept this from me. We’re supposed to get married.”
His voice began to tremble. The next words to come out of his mouth were at a volume a hundred times louder than the words before. “Did you not think, somewhere in that large, intelligent, sensible brain of yours, that I had a goddamned right to know?” The boom of his voice echoed throughout the quiet townhouse, and Sheila cringed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Morris. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Her words caught in her throat. She could barely look at him. His face was full of accusation and loathing. “Sex addiction . . . it isn’t like drinking, Morris. You tell people you’re an alcoholic, they get it. They won’t hate you, or think you’re gross. But you tell people you’re a sex addict, and suddenly you’re sick. You’re a pervert. Or they want to take you out back and fuck you. It’s not an easy thing to tell people.”
“I’m not people.”
“I know. I’m just trying to explain.” In frustration, she ran her fingers through her hair and her diamond bracelet tangled up in the strands. She yanked, ripping out two glossy black hairs. “I wanted to tell you, I did. But I couldn’t.”
“What’s your specific addiction anyway?” Morris’s gaze never left her face. “Porn? Chat rooms? Multiple partners? What?”
“Yes.” Never had a word tasted so poisonous. “All of it.”
“That’s great. Just fucking great.” Morris rubbed his head. “And how many men since we’ve been together?”
“Just one.” Sheila’s voice shook. “I swear. I was celibate for a long time before we met.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Until the affair with your student.”
“Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
“Does it matter?”
Morris’s face was expressionless. “All those things we did last Saturday. Did you do them with him?”
Sheila kept her eyes glued to the floor and refused to answer.
“Look at me. I want to know.” Morris was eerily calm. “Did you?”
Reluctantly, she nodded.
“Other stuff, too?”
She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Which she knew would be answer enough.
“Fuck!” he yelled, punching the wall beside him hard. A fist-size dent appeared in the drywall. White powder flew everywhere. He hit the wall two more times, adding to the damage. Sheila cowered. Glaring at her, he rubbed his raw knuckles, chest heaving. “Was he of legal age at least?”
“Of course!”
“Should I get tested for STDs?”
It was a low blow, but she had no right to be offended. “We used protection.”
“Can’t blame me for asking.”
“I don’t.”
Morris massaged his red knuckles and spoke carefully. “Here’s the thing, darlin’. Even if I could get past your addiction to sex—which I’m not sure I can—I still don’t understand why you weren’t having any kind of sex at all with me. You told me you wanted to wait till marriage. I respected that. In fact, even though there were times I thought I’d pass out from blue balls, I’ll admit I liked that about you. But now I look back at all of it and realize it was a goddamned joke. You weren’t saving yourself for me. You cheated on me. You had an affair with your student. You were willing to put your career in jeopardy, which has always meant more to you than anything, to have sex with some goddamned kid, rather than be with me. So tell me, how am I supposed to get past that? How am I supposed to forgive you? And how in the hell can you expect that we’ll get married in ten fucking days?”
Sheila wiped the tears from her face, trying not to appear as pathetic as she felt. “I don’t know.” It was the only thing she could think to say.
“I don’t either.” He turned and opened the door. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Don’t go.” She stood up in alarm. “Please, don’t go. I am so, so sorry. More than you could ever imagine.” She was unable to hold it in anymore; her chest racked with sobs.
Morris