writers_loft | Chapter 7 of Affairs Lead to Dead Husbands

Title: Affairs Lead to Dead Husbands
Rating: R for cursing and sex
Genre: romance
Summary: Nathanial falls for a Lada. Lada is married. They start an affair. Lada's husband turns up dead.

7

Nathanial was dying. At least that’s what it felt like to him. There was a cavernous hole where his heart used to be, the edges of the wound raw, jagged and pulsating with agonizing pain. Sometimes the pain would overwhelm him and be so all consuming that all he could do was double over, a hand to his chest. It was times like this when he almost forgot how to breathe. Lada was everything to him and now she had cut him off like a torturer that, whom until that point hadn’t done much, took his access to water and food without so much as a word.

Sleep was becoming a thing of the past as days stretched out into weeks. It had been three weeks since he’d seen her and it felt like it had been even longer that he’d slept. His eyes were red-rimmed and almost as raw looking as his chest felt. The skin under his eyes was becoming the color of fresh bruises and the rest of his skin was taking on a sickening sallow color no matter how much time he still spent in the sun.

Nathanial went about his day were less enthusiam than a robot, going through the motions and only careful enough not to injure or main himself as he worked with all the farm equipment.

He still couldn’t figure out what happened. A few days would have been fine for her to grieve and if she needed more, well, she still could’ve told him. He understood not wanting to meet in public. Her husband had died, and whether or not she cared about it, she had appearences to make. She needed to still look like a mourning widow even if she wanted to dance with joy and kiss him till his ears rang. He understood all this. What made no more sense than a cow in a mindfeild was that she was seeming to take it to the extreme and not have any contact at all. Surely the police weren’t tapping her phones or hacking into her e-mail. Her husband was murdered, yes, but not by her or anyone she knew. It was all so infuriating and so heart-wrenching all in one jumbled mess.

*****

Lada, sheathed in a black three-quarter sleeved dress that came to her knees, walked in a determined fashion towards the large dance studio on the corner of her favorite jogging block. Her head was held high, shoulders square as always, as she made her way there; her over-sized black tote with a pair of Pointe shoes emblazened on the front bounced against her hip. She needed to get out of her house. It was killing her just being there.

Lada couldn’t remember the last time she actually danced in a studio that wasn’t her own. She had taken private lessons all her life after her parents built her a studio in their home. Of course now she had her own studio.

She just rounded the corner when she slammed straight into someone coming from the other side. Lada reached out to steady herself, using the other person’s shoulder and looked up. Her breath came out in a short burst as if someone decked her right in the solar plexus. She certainly felt like someone had punched her when she saw him. Nathanial.

Nathanial’s eyes opened wide as he realized who he just almost knocked over. His mouth went agape and he just about forgot how to breathe again.

Lada’s hand retracted as if his shoulder had shocked her and it may as well have for how startled she was to be touching it.

They stood there in silence both taking in each other’s appearance.

She looks awful.

He looks awful.

Nathanial shut his mouth and then tried to open it again to speak but nothing came out.

Lada chewed her lower lip, which looked a little red as if she’d been chewing it a lot in recent days, and looked as lost for words as he was.

Seconds etched on into minutes as they both continued to just stare in quiet.

Lada shook her head and then spoke in a cutting tone. “I must be going. I have a class to attend. Excuse me.” And with that she bushed past him and disappeared into the dance studio.

Nathanial was left standing there with the most bewildered look on his face. It was incredulous to believe that encounter had taken place. He couldn’t come to a conclusion on whether or not he was dreaming, and if he wasn’t, should he follow her.

*****
“I can’t believe he’s staring at you,” The redhead behind Lada in the line along the bar leaned up and whispered as they began warming up.

Lada, engrossed in the movements and the instructors words hadn’t noticed. “Who?”

The redhead sighed and said in a voice that reminded Lada of a high school cheerleader, “The tall, dark, and beautiful one on the end. Hello!”

Lada glanced in the mirror down at the end. Sure enough she had a watcher.

He was beautiful. Disheveled black hair fell around a milky pale face that’s structure would be every sculptor’s wet dream. Intense cerulean eyes stared uninterrupted at every movement Lada made. His milky pale skin stretched taught over long lean muscles and his black leotard left nothing to the imagination about how big he was. He caught Lada’s eye in the mirror and smirked.

Lada averted her eyes and whispered, “Why are you surprised he is staring?”

“Because you’re not exactly his type.”

“Not that I care, but what is his type?”

“Exotic.”

Just then a loud slam made them both jump a little. “Ladies!” The instructor boomed as she held up her wooden stick she used to keep time ready to slam it down again.

“Yes, Ma’am?” They both said.

“Are you done?” She regarded them with an evil glare in her wizened white face made more severe looking by how tight her ivory bun was pulled back from her face.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

They passed the rest of the class in silence.

*****

Lada gathered up her things and headed out of the classroom to go to the bathroom and change at the end of class.

“Hey there.” A male voice full of velvet and testosterone called just behind her.

Lada didn’t even bother to turn around as she headed down the long hallway to the ladies room.

“I’m talking to you, beautiful with the black bag.” He caught up to her in short order and then stepped in front of her. “Hey.”

Lada looked at him in distaste. “What?”

“Hey, now, no need to be rude.” He chided.

Her face softened by a mere fraction. “What is it that you want?”

“A date.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Lada laughed. “Yeah ok, Mr. Romeo.” She started to breeze past him. “Now let me on by so I can change.”

He grabbed her arm. “That’s not very nice.”

Lada looked down at her arm and then back up at him. “Let go, please.”

“Fine. No need to be a bitch about it.” He let go.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Bitch.” His beauty had fallen to nil.

Lada forwent the trip to the bathroom and walked towards the door. She despised confrontation as much as cursing.

“Stupid fucking cunt.”

The words reached Lada and somehow stung. She shoved open the door and walked a few feet to around the corner where she sat down on a bench and started shuddering. A tear caressed her cheek. She breathed for a few moments to calm down, but her hands still shook as she tried to undo her pointe shoes so she could wear her sandals on the walk home.

“You ok?” A timid, but very familiar voice questioned.

Lada peeked up. Nathanial.

“Uh, if you’re not going to run away again, I’d like to make sure you’re ok.” He stepped closer. “You look a little scared.”

She skimmed the tears off with the back of her hand. “I am fine. Nothing I can not handle. I do not need you.” She shoved her pointe shoes into her bag and then threw down her sandals to slip into and walk away.

“Wait,” he grabbed her arm. “Don’t go, please.”

The Déjà vu was startling. Lada gave a little shriek. “Let go!”

Shocked at her reaction he let go and just stood there.

“I do not want the man that probably murdered my husband touching me.”

“What? Wait a minute, is that what you think?”

Lada turned to him, “Yes.” And turned back.

Nathanial was speechless as she walked away.

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