Imbalance Pt. 03

I watched in amazement as Sandra devoured every morsel of food on her plate. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, all of it. Gone. She must have felt me watching her because she looked up from her meal with an irritated look on her face.

"What?" she asked with a mouth full of food.

"Nothing. Nothing. You just eat like a homeless girl. I was about to give you a dollar and have you wash my windshield."

Her face twisted into a smirk, or at least what would have been a smirk if her mouth wasn't so full. She swallowed her food and said, "Oh, so we're funny now. An hour ago you were bawling like little girl who had her first period."

Something passed over my face, because hers fell. "Frank, I'm sorry. I was just making a joke. I didn't mean..." I waved her apology off.

"No. It's cool. You didn't say anything wrong. I'm just dealing with a lot right now."

She nodded and took a sip of her orange juice. An uncomfortable silence fell between us.

"Do you wanna talk about it? I may be a prostitute and a stripper, but I'm also a good listener." She said with a self-deprecating laugh. I saw a flash of an insecure little girl in that moment, but it went away quickly.

Something about her made me comfortable. I got her. I felt it that first night we met. Even though every part of our interaction was fake, I couldn't help feel a sense of kinship with her.

"It's a long, boring story. Trust me. You don't want to hear it."

She looked at me and smiled warmly. "Well, you paid me $300, and you bought me breakfast. I'm pretty sure sex is off the table, so consider this you getting your money's worth."

"Wait a minute. You're not paying for this?" I asked with fake shock as I pointed at the meal. Her eyes caught the humor in mine, and we both laughed. Then she looked at me expectedly, like she was waiting for me to tell her everything.

So I did. I went through the entire story, from that first night that Claire revealed that she was unhappy, to the first night I met Sandra. She didn't interrupt one time. When I was finished, things fell quiet for a moment.

"If you don't mind me saying, your ex-wife is a real bitch." She broke the silence with. I felt like I had an obligation to defend Claire, but I didn't. To be honest, it felt good to have someone on my side.

She continued. "I can understand her frustrations with you. But to go and sleep with your supposed best friend? Low."

"She says that I left her no choice. No reason to fight for the marriage."

"Well, in my opinion no one ever GIVES you a reason to fight for something. You do it because losing it will be more painful than the fight you have to endure to keep it. I've seen mothers endure humiliation and pain to fight for kids that don't give them a reason to. Wives will even defend low life husbands who beat them and degrade them, because they feel that being without that person is worse than the shit they have to deal with to be with them. That's the difference between love and everything else. Love is its own reason to keep fighting."

I couldn't help but to be amazed with her. She saw it and once again gave a self-deprecating laugh. "What, a stripper can't be deep?"

I had to laugh at that. "I guess you would know more about life than normal people."

At that her eyes narrowed as she glared at me angrily. Her sudden change in mood caught me off guard.

"More about life than normal people? What is that supposed to mean? So, I guess that I was obviously molested as a child, or abandoned by my father. Why else would I be some abnormal stripper?" She lashed out. It seemed that I insulted her, which was not my intent at all.

"No, that's not what I meant. I was just thinking that you see all kinds of stories with the people you encounter. I can't be the first guy to come to you looking to recover from heartbreak. In the room, you knew exactly what I was after, which means that you came across another guy like me before. That's all I meant."

"Whatever."

She looked down at the menu for a moment, halting the progression of this conversation. I didn't want to make a bigger mess of things than I already had, so I simply shut the fuck up. She must have seen something on the menu that she liked, because I saw her lips curled into a smile. Then she looked up at me and playfully asked, "Would you let me get a slice of apple pie if I blow you?"

How does she do that?

Sandra seemed to have the ability to mask herself. She will show small glimpses of the real woman inside, but that would be gone in an instant. She'd built several personas to hide from the world, and she was able to switch effortlessly between them. The sex kitten, the hard-nosed bitch, or the smirking sarcastic girl who wasn't easily impressed. She used them as a suit of armor. She encased herself into them; shield up, sword drawn, and always prepared for defense.

Most people wouldn't care to get past those illusions. The sex kitten makes men only want to fuck her brains out, the hard-nosed bitch causes them to want to stay clear of her, and the sarcastic woman just makes them not want to even try to get to know her.

I decided to not be like other men. Like I said before, I got her. I could see past the exterior shell. Because of that, I would be able to tread those dangerous waters, despite her reluctance to let me in. I found her intriguing enough to try.

"Have you ever been in love?" I asked. She stiffened up at the question, like it surprised her. She couldn't hide the gloomy expression on her face that mirrored her feelings when I asked it. After seeing how she reacted, a yes or no answer was irrelevant. Only a person who has loved, got burned, and lost could feel the emotion that would make such a beautiful face look so sad.

So far, we'd only talked about me. I wanted to ask her about her past. She was right about one thing. I did wonder how a woman like her got on the path to being a stripper who also slept with men for money. She didn't seem like the type. If we check our stereotypes for stripper/prostitutes, then I'm sure we will all come up with some bubble headed nympho who craves cock, or some gold digging femme fatale who would probably kill you to get your wallet if given the chance. Sandra played those parts to perfection. But they were just that - parts; like an actress does for a movie or play. I could see that it was all an act of self-preservation. Underneath that exterior was so much more.

Her eyes glazed over as a memory haunted her. She shook it off, like she did everything else, and changed the subject.

"Well Frank. I'm going to turn back into a pumpkin soon. I have to get home and get to sleep. 5 am is way past my bedtime."

Her redirection of my attention worked, but only because I didn't realize how late it was.

"Holy shit! It's 5?" I asked checking my watch. It was indeed. Where had the time gone?

"Yep. Time flies when you're with me. I have that effect on people. It's because I'm awesome." She said as she shot me a smile.

"Frustrating is more like it. We spent all night talking about me, and I don't know the slightest thing about you."

There it was again. A flash of the real Sandra. I saw it in her eyes, but just for that initial moment. She refused to let her guard down. That mask was back.

"Well, you could have known all about me if you wanted to, handsome." She said playfully as she waved her hands across her body, like she was putting it on display.

"You know that's not what I mean."

Right then, her demeanor changed. Her eyes softened. Right before me, her face became more...innocent. "Its gonna cost you a lot more than $300 for that." She said. There was no humor in her voice. No sarcasm. That was the real Sandra speaking.

"What about $300, and breakfast?" I joked lightly. That got a genuine laugh out of her. Not the throaty, seductive laugh that she does as Starlet, or one filled with cynicism when I say something sappy. It was a real laugh.

"Frank... we need to go. I need sleep. Some of us have to work for a living." She said, clamming up once more. She slid out of the booth and grabbed her purse, indicating that there was no room for negotiation, and that this conversation was over.

"Um, I do work. A lot. That's the main reason my wife left me."

"Well, when you do your job in 6 inch heels and a thong, we'll compare notes."

For some reason, the image of me in heels and a thong was hilarious. It must have been funny to her too, because we laughed together.

"Touché." Was all I could say.

The waitress must have sensed that we were ready to go, because she showed up with the check. After I thanked her, I placed a $5 tip on the table and went the pay the bill.

The drive back to the club was a short one from where we were. After a few minutes, I was parked next to her Jetta Passat.

"Well, Frank. It's been a while since a man has lasted all night with me. You have some stamina!" she joked, once again using her go to move of injecting a sexual reference into every conversation. But I wasn't going for it. I wasn't going to let her sweep tonight under the rug with playful banter.

"Sandra, you helped me tonight. I don't let that many people get close to me. But, I'm glad I let you in. Thank you for being here."

For the first time tonight, her guard was completely dropped. She genuinely looked me in the eyes.

"Anytime Frank. I hope everything works out for you. You're a good guy. You deserve better."

With that she kissed me softly on the lips and got out of my car. It wasn't a passionate kiss; the kind shared between two lovers. It was a soft peck. A kiss one might give a friend.

I watched her get into her car drive off. Then I drove back to my hotel room. I figured that I would get my room for an extra night. I might as well sleep in a big king sized bed for a change.

When I went to sleep, I slept like the dead. I was exhausted. But for the first time in a while, I felt an ebb in the pain. It wasn't the mask of anger that I'd been wearing lately to convince myself that this didn't faze me. I actually felt it subside, like I released the pressure and got rid of the excess.

I felt like I can finally start healing.

***

"Frank? You awake?"

Claire's voice sounded apprehensive as she knocked on my office door. It was about a week after my evening with Sandra. When I returned to my house after my nights in the hotel room, I felt that I had turned a corner. I had clarity. My future didn't look so bleak anymore.

I also found it amusing that Claire questioned where I was, and why I was coming in at that time of morning. Like I owed her anything. Of course I let her know that my night was completely innocent, and that she could rest assured that I didn't have sex with anyone.

Yeah right. I simply brushed her off and left her standing there. I didn't care what she thought.

I began preparing to leave my home. I rented a storage unit and began moving some of my things into it. I also started looking for another place to stay. At this time, I was actually choosing between a condo that was close to my job and a town house that was a couple of blocks down from Claire and my girls.

I felt like I was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Then tonight happened.

"What's is it Claire?" I asked in a deadpanned voice. I really didn't want to see her. Still, she took my acknowledgement of her as an invitation and came into my office. I swiveled around in my chair to face her. She looked like she'd been bawling. Her face was stained, as if it was freshly dried of tears from her puffy eyes.

"I was just checking on you. Seeing how you were."

Seeing how I was. Isn't that sweet? Well, in all truthfulness, I was pissed. At her. You see, tonight was the night we decided to break the news to the girls about mommy and daddy. How do you explain to a five and an eight-year-old that the parents are splitting up? How do you reiterate that they will see daddy, even though he will be at another house? How do you tell them that they will still be a family, and that nothing will change?

Very painfully, and with a lot of tears. That's how. Fucking Claire and her unhappiness.

So you can imagine the joy I felt at hearing her voice when she knocked on my door.

"I'm just peachy. Thanks for asking."

"Frank..."

"What Claire? What? What do you want from me?" I lashed out as I threw a pen that I'd been holding in my hand onto the desk behind me. I threw it with a little too much force, because it skidded across it and over the edge. "You wanted freedom, I gave you that. You wanted half of everything (except what she didn't know about), I gave you that. Alimony, child support, my fucking children! I gave you everything you wanted! WHAT ELSE CAN I GIVE YOU? Please tell me what more I can do to help YOU!"

"I just wanted to talk."

I laughed sardonically. "Talk? Oh, now you wanna talk? Well, better late than never! Unfortunately, I'm all talked out. You see, I had to break my daughters' hearts today. I had to tell them that mommy and daddy can't get their shit together, and now they're entire family is destroyed. So I don't have any sympathy left to give you. If you want someone to make you feel better, then you have to find a guy who doesn't give a fuck whether or not YOUR decision to break this family up hurts Kelly and Stacy. I'm not that guy. You should go find your boyfriend. He couldn't care less."

She looked at me incredulously. "Do you have to be like this NOW? Of all times to be an asshole, you couldn't take a break JUST THIS ONCE to be a human being? I was there too! I was sitting right next to you when WE told OUR daughters about our divorce. I know you're hurting Frank. I know that because I'm hurting too!"

"WHO GIVES A FUCK IF YOU'RE HURTING? I could give a damn what you're going through right now! You made this shitty bed, and we're all laying in it. So go find Doug. Spread your legs for him. He was so helpful when you were getting over your husband. He provided a nice dick to slob on - I'm sorry - a nice shoulder to cry on when you needed help brushing me under the rug. I'm sure he can do the same thing to help you forget about the pain that YOU put your daughters through."

"We both put them through hell Frank! We BOTH had a part in this!"

"Um yeah. I worked too hard. YOU FUCKED MY BEST FRIEND! All is not created equal in here. You wanna kid yourself, fine. But you must be on some serious drugs if you think I'm gonna play along with the 'I was lonely' excuse."

"You're an asshole!" she said as she got up and stomped out of my office. "A FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

"At least I'm not a cheater!" I yelled out after she slammed the door. I didn't get a response, but I'm sure she heard me. Was I being childish? Sure. I could admit that. Did it feel good? No, not really. My adolescent behavior was just a way to vent my real frustration. The pain of looking your kids in the eyes and shattering their worlds is agony that can only be compared with similar pain. Getting shot, stabbed, or burned isn't even comparable.

That night with Sandra, I took two steps forward in getting past the bitterness that I felt at Claire. Tonight, I took a giant leap backwards. And I had a running start. No longer was the betrayal about me. Now, it had spread. The curse of hiding the state of our marriage from our daughters until now was that we were also hiding it from ourselves. Any time before now, we could call it quits and turn back. Sure, we'd be fractured. Probably never be the same loving couple that we had been. But we could have faked the funk long enough for the girls to mature. Now, there was no reason to turn around and go back.

The damage was complete.

***

The next day at work, I was called into a meeting with The Heads again. I groaned out loud when Sarah gave me that bit of news. We already had a meeting not too long ago. What could they possibly want this soon?

"You need to calm down Mr. Underwood. You know how they are. A bunch of pencil pushers. Don't let them see your frustration." Sarah told me, trying to calm me down.

"What else could they want? I just gave them a progress report. Nothing more has been done since then. God! Why can't I just do the fucking job and be left alone?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then leaned in. "I don't think this is about the engine." She seemed as if she were holding on to a juicy bit of information, and she was debating on whether or not to spill the beans.

Okay. I was intrigued. When it came to this company, the assistants are really the ones who ran everything. They talked amongst themselves. Sarah often knew things long before I did.

"What could this be about?" I asked. She knew she had me on the hook, because she smiled slyly.

"Your old friend. Mr. Stamper."

"Doug?"

She nodded knowingly. From the smirk on her face, and her demeanor, I wondered how much she actually knew about my situation. Previous to this, she didn't make any indication that she knew anything. She knew I was getting a divorce, because she pointed me in the direction of Terry. But I never shared the specifics with her. But now, she was speaking with me like we were co-conspirators against Doug.

Did she know? How? Then again, how does she learn half of the shit that she knew?

"Why would they be meeting with me about him?"

Her voice lowered. "I heard that he stole some secrets when he left. I think they want to sue him or something like that. I'm not sure."

I can't say that it hurt me to hear that Doug had a bit of bad luck coming his way. Shit, if I'm honest, it actually brightened up my day a little. Still, I couldn't imagine Doug doing that. It wasn't a question of his loyalty or his ethics. He had none of those. I just didn't think he was that stupid.

"Why would they question me about it?"

She shrugged her shoulders at me, and looked like she was about to say something else, but then stopped. She looked past me, like someone was coming up behind me.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for a Frank Underwood." I heard from behind me. The voice was male, and he sounded young. I turned to find some IT looking guy.

"I'm Frank. How can I help you?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sarah casually brush a strand of hair out of her face. She looked at this guy like a teenage girl does the hot shot quarterback for the high school.

"Hi. My name is Jason Morrison. I'm with -- Company. We're contracted to do security upgrades. I was told to meet with you."

"Really? Since when are we getting a security upgrade?"

"Well, we're the company that put your security system in 5 years ago. We've been doing the maintenance on it since then. According to this..." He pulled out a piece of paper and read from it. "...you guys have also contracted us to perform several upgrades to your system. I'm the guy that is supposed to do the initial assessment."

I vaguely remembered the new security system getting put in. I was the point of contact when it was installed, which is probably why he was looking for me now. I remembered speaking to some other guy though. An older, fatter guy.

"Wait a minute. I remember your company. The guy in charge was some ex-navy guy who looked like he never missed a meal."

The young guy chuckled. "You mean Bernie? Yeah, he hasn't missed a meal. Ever. In fact, he eats several other people's meals when they turn their backs."

I looked over at Sarah, who giggled at the joke like it was the funniest things she'd heard since Kevin Hart was on Ellen. By now she was practically scribbling "Mrs. Sarah Morrison" in her notebook with hearts around it. I almost expected her to start panting and whistling with her heart shaped eyes popping out of her head like a cartoon wolf.