Tomorrow's June Read online

  Tomorrow's June

  by Claudia Caget

  Copyright 2015 Claudia Caget

  Smashwords Edition

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  Chapter 1

  I waited for my lover.

  I shifted in seat, my back pressed up against the hard plastic chair, my arms flat against the sticky tabletop, and stared at the front door, unmindful of the faded wallpaper, scuffed floor, or ‘70s era furniture. Portia's Greek Cuisine was probably a big destination in its day, or it could have always been a dump, I didn't know.

  My lover, I hated that word, was late, as usual.

  'Lover, lover, lover.' The unending loop in my head tortured me.

  God, I hated that word.

  I left him just minutes ago after we worked together all day.

  Yes, it’s me, Kurt, and Kurt's girlfriend Hannah, all working together in domestic bliss at the Organic Garden Coffee House and Vintage Clothing Store, Toledo’s attempt to capture the trendy coffee-drinking neo-hippie demographic. I sighed outwardly, loudly, and then took a sip of coffee.

  Where the hell was he? My mind wandered, as it often did when I was stuck waiting for people.

  I scanned the room while tapping my foot. I was the only one sitting alone in the somewhat crowded restaurant.

  I replayed the day at work in my head, checking to make sure we didn't tip our hand.

  No one at the Garden knew about Kurt and I, although I was sure people suspected it. I would. He was always pushing the envelope, grabbing at me in the kitchen or kissing me in the hallway near the bathrooms.

  It was thrilling.

  I had convinced myself that Hannah didn't know. I had to believe it. She could never know and I would do everything I could to make sure she never found out. Every interaction I had with her was scanned and analyzed to root out any guilty behavior on my part. This exercise, too, was as thrilling as my stolen moments with her boyfriend. My illicit relationship had become my personal obsession and I rarely thought of anything else.

  The waitress appeared in front of me with the coffee pot, snapping me back to reality. She reached to remove the cup that was awaiting Kurt and I put my hand out to stop her.

  "He'll be here. He's just a little late, that's all." I averted my eyes from her gaze, which looked to me like it was filled with pity, and my voice trailed off.

  “Okay honey,” she said, turning away a little too quickly, already dismissing me.

  The restaurant door opened and my head snapped around to see who it was.

  It looked like my boyfriend Ian.

  For a brief moment I was terrified and I couldn't look away. Everything stopped and then started in slow motion, and then my breath forced its way out of my lungs, and I nearly gasped.

  It wasn't him, thank God. Calm down, I commanded myself. I was in danger of becoming hysterical because of the torture I was putting myself through. I sipped more of my coffee, noticing that my foot tapping was clocking in at allegro time. I stopped.

  I looked again toward the door.

  Where the hell was he? We were off work 45 minutes ago.

  My foot again began to tap in time with my racing heart. I rubbed a sticky part of the table, gazing at the tired walls, trying to avoid looking at the door.

  A watched pot never boils. Or something like that. There is a lid for every pot. Or in my case, several lids.

  As if on cue, the front door opened and Kurt swept in out of mid-February gloom, a wide smile on his face to go with his impossibly high cheekbones. He smiled with the confidence of a man who knew people were waiting for him and, as he approached, I stood, propelled to my feet by either anger or lust; it was hard to tell anymore with Kurt. I watched as he practically loped over to the table. Or he glided, I wasn’t sure. I was in a bit of a daze.

  “I knew you would wait for me. I missed you so.” He towered over me, and leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth in front of all those people, taking my hands in his. It confused me a little and added to my near hysteria.

  "You just saw me." My voice sounded very small and far away to my ears.

  Still holding my hands, we sat down and he looked into my eyes. For the second time in five minutes I was struggling for air. We had such precious few moments alone that it was overwhelming when we did finally get together, away from prying eyes. I smiled at him. I couldn't be mad at him. I thought he is fabulous.

  The waitress moved in for the kill with her coffee pot and I smiled up at her, too. After she left, I turned my attention back to Kurt and his navy blue eyes. I was a sucker for navy blue eyes.

  "I love you," Kurt said as his eyes searched my face. He didn't smile when he said it.

  "I love you too." I felt a little dizzy. I think it was from the lack of oxygen to my brain.

  We fell silent. Kurt looked around the restaurant while I gazed at him, sipping my coffee. The world spun crazily around me while I sat fixed in that moment, watching his eyes scan the room. I wanted to live there forever.

  "That Charles is driving me nuts," Kurt said bringing me out my daydream.

  Ah Charles.

  I smiled broadly. Ever since I announced that he was on my short list of people I wanted to fuck, Kurt had been complaining about Charles' very existence. It was endearing.

  "Yeah, he's cute."

  "He called you a bitch."

  I shrugged. I am a bitch.

  "He doesn't do anything except harass the diners. Today I thought he was going to sit down with that old couple in the corner." Kurt was unable to let it go.

  I laughed. Kurt was always so outraged over stupid things but I didn't want to spend our time talking about someone else. "Yeah, I don't know why Jeff keeps him." Jeff, the owner of the Garden, always scheduled Kurt and I to work together. He was a sweetie.

  "I don't know either." Kurt sipped his coffee. “Who was that older guy who was talking to you before you left?”

  I looked at him blankly for a moment. Older guy?

  Kurt looked at me, impatience creeping over his face. “Yeah, he was wearing glasses and was talking to you near the door.”

  Oh yeah, I remembered.

  “He was a professor of mine from school. He was telling me about an internship at the Toledo Museum of Art.” I looked up at Kurt and smiled. Throughout my art history course work at the University of Toledo, the prof, John Armiss, encouraged me to continue onto grad school. I didn’t listen. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was thinking when I decided to major in art history. It wasn’t as if the jobs were plentiful, especially in Toledo. The way he described the position it was as if it was mine if I wanted it. I couldn’t think about it right now.

  Kurt frowned.

  “You aren’t thinking of getting another job, are you?”

  I laughed and reached over and squeezed his hand.

  “I would never leave you.”

  Kurt squeezed my hand and changed the subject.

  "Are you coming over tomorrow?"

  "Of course." I laughed again. He made me so deliriously happy even if we only had a few stolen moments alone.

  Kurt looked down at his watch. "I have to go. Hannah is making dinner." He got up from the table.

  “Oh.” Again knocked out of my daydream. The real world was intruding.

  "Come on, I'll see you tomorrow." He pulled me up to him and kissed me goodbye in front of all t
hose people. "Come over at 5:30 tomorrow. I will call you if anything changes."

  "Okay." And he was gone, maneuvering through the maze of chairs, the change for his coffee rolling across the tabletop.

  Immediately the waitress walked over.

  "He didn't stay long," she said, placing the bill on the table.

  I really hated the way complete strangers could make me feel like an idiot. I wanted to say he had to go home to his wife and kids but the whole experience had left me exhausted me and I lost interest. "Oh, he had to go to work," I mumbled as I paid my bill. I stepped outside into Toledo's gloomy twilight and walked slowly to my car. I got in and pulled it onto Toledo's mean streets toward home.

  Chapter 2

  Although I was still euphoric from my secret meeting with Kurt, my mind raced on the drive home, and the drama of it all gave me a headache. Being with Kurt concentrated my energy into a small space and when it was over, I always felt depleted, like a shaken can of soda spraying all over my life.

  I returned to a familiar debate I had been having with myself, namely how to get Kurt to leave Hannah. I had convinced myself that if he left her for me, everything would be perfect. If only he would listen to reason, my argument to myself went, he would realize he loved me best. My rational self knew it is useless to think about our future in such a situation, because really, there was no future in such a situation. Kurt had already told me several times he wasn't going to leave Hannah and I would just have to get over it. He was more than satisfied with the way things were. But there was always the chance he would change his mind, my little voice said, so I continued to hope.

  The futility of loving Kurt always revved me up and stressed me out. In the space of minutes I could go from being so sure of my importance in his life to being broken by the inexorable truth.

  I tried to calm myself as I pulled into the parking lot of the West Toledo duplex where I lived. My roommate Amy's car was the drive, and I don't want my mood to upset her.

  I met her my freshman year at the University of Toledo. She was stealing various writing instruments from the bookstore and asked me to block the view of the manager. I later asked her why she trusted me, and she told me I had, "one of those faces," and besides, she had heard me shrieking to the clerk because there weren’t any Geology 101 books on the shelf. She said she knew she had found a kindred spirit. We have been more or less friends, kind of, ever since.

  She was a hard one to read, and a hard person to get close to because she was a delicate flower, too fragile and too susceptible to prolonged bouts of shoplifting when exposed to any type of stress. A careless word tossed her way could result in new items of clothing with the tags attached showing up in her closet, or packages of unwanted batteries piled on the dining room table. She was out of control during these spells and pleas for her to stop fell on deaf ears. I didn't want to be responsible for her imprisonment, so it is best to keep the environment at home stress free, and I adjusted my mood as needed, walking on eggshells if necessary.

  Despite her glaring personality flaw, or should I say impairment? I got along with her fairly well, for the most part. We weren't particularly close though and in our apartment full of secrets, I kept my extra curricular romantic relationship hidden from her. I personally thought she was in love with Ian, my regular boyfriend, and given her mental state, why would I want to include her as a participant in my lies? That would be an invitation for her to not only commit petty larceny, but also maybe even grand theft auto.

  It was also important to me that she didn't think I was a slut. I didn’t think she was very experienced sexually, from what I can tell, and in the eight years I have known her, I have never seen her get wasted in a bar and go home with some random guy. Whereas I have done that very thing, several times in fact, before moving in with her, although I now confine my activities and attention to Kurt.

  I held my breath and unlocked the door. In our spottily decorated living room, she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating pita bread and hummus and watching TV.

  "Hi, how was work?" she said, smiling at me, in between taking bites of hummus with one hand and twirling her long, blond braids with the other. She looked like a larcenous Heidi.

  "Okay, business seems to be picking up. How about you?" I asked, flipping through the mail on the dining room table.

  "Fine. I had a great day!" She sounded so unusual that I turned to look at her. She was practically glowing; her twirling braids blurring the space behind her in a blond haze. Her eyes were unusually shiny as she looked at me, an odd look passing over her face.

  "I went shopping on my lunch hour."

  Uh oh.

  "Hudson's was having this great sale. I was just looking around and there was this big commotion in the women's career shop."

  I froze, holding my breath, watching her. My mouth must have been open in a distorted grimace but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

  "They caught someone shoplifting!" Her eyes were like saucers and her words came out as gasps. "Everyone was so busy, I couldn't pass up the opportunity."

  From a previously unnoticed bag at her feet, she pulled out two skirts. "Here, I got one for you." Her outstretched arm dangled the sweetest black leather skirt in my direction. "I made sure I got your size." Her smile returned and she again looked like an innocent child.

  "Thanks." I forced a smile on my face and walked across the room and take it from her, examining it. No sensor tag. I decide not to ask. One thing about Amy was, she always stole the best stuff. "Amy, I don't want you to get caught."

  Amy's laugh filled the room. "People who get caught want to get caught. I don't want to." She went back to eating her hummus and twirling her braids, as her gaze drifted toward the television.

  Who could argue with that logic? I needed a drink and headed toward the kitchen, putting the skirt on the dining room table as I passed by. My head was in the refrigerator when Amy called from the living room.

  "Do you think that you could do the dishes?" I peered into the sink, which contained exactly one plate, one fork, and one spoon.

  "Uh, sure," I said, twisting off the top of my beer and tossing it toward the garbage can. Maybe I was wrong about the stealing and stress theory. Amy certainly didn't need to steal. Out of all my friends, she had what most resembled a real job as a public relations associate at a local non-profit agency. Her risky behavior came from somewhere else.

  I did the "dishes" in quick order. I didn't want to upset her and get her into trouble. When I went back into the living room, Amy had retreated to her bedroom with the stealth of a cat. I hadn't even heard her leave the room. I took her place on the couch, which happened to be the most uncomfortable couch in the world.

  "Hey Amy, next time steal us a couch," I half-yelled over my shoulder in the direction of her room. From faraway, I think I hear her say 'okay,' although I can't be sure.

  Chapter 3

  I had no appetite for food, so I decided to drink heavily. I didn’t have to work the next day and the night stretched out in front of me, full of promise. It was only 6 o'clock and a Thursday, and it was still early yet to make plans for later.

  On the way to get another drink, I checked the answering machine to see if anyone has called, but it was empty. I considered calling people to go out, but was at a loss as to whom. It seemed after college I drifted away from everyone except Amy.

  I sat on the couch and stared at the TV, suddenly tired. The overhead light made the room look green and I heard Amy in her room on the phone, her high-pitched voice squeakier than usual. My boyfriend was God-knows-where, and my lover was with his girlfriend. I always ended up alone every time, even though I am in two relationships.

  What the fuck?

  The news droned on while I tortured and angered myself with images of Kurt eating dinner with Hannah and talking about his day. I got into this relationship with Kurt to end my lonely life and here I was, still lonely.

  Impulsively, I decided to call Ian before I
got too drunk to speak coherently and babble to his fraternity brothers. He lived in a house up on "fraternity row" at the university. Privately, I thought the whole thing was incredibly ridiculous and immature, but Ian seemed to like it, and to tell him otherwise would just be mean.

  I called and he wasn't home. Of course he wasn't. Where the hell was he all of the time? The fact Ian was never around was the reason I started seeing Kurt in the first place. If it weren't for Kurt, I would be having no sex at all, as Ian and I hadn't slept together in five months. Lately when he came over, he would leave right away, saying he was “too busy” with school to stay longer. If I didn't know any better I would think he didn't want to spend time with me.

  I sat back on the couch and strained my memory to remember the last time we did something together. I think it was a fraternity party about four-and-a-half months ago. I didn't like to go to those parties because I was usually older than everybody there and most certainly had more sense than everyone present. I had been making excuses not to go to any fraternity events, but if I recall, I think I really had nothing to do that night. Kurt had to stay home because Hannah had the night off. I could imagine me being desperate enough to go for something to do.

  So I went and it was boring. Ian dumped me off with his "brothers," and promptly disappeared. I discovered him dancing on the other side of the fraternity house with this hippie-looking girl, who was definitely not his type. They were laughing and having a good time, while I was bored senseless.

  Now that I stopped to think about it, that incident was a high water mark for us. Afterward, I stopped calling Ian regularly, and haven't been over his house since. We have fallen into this pattern where he comes over once every week-and-a-half. When did he come over last and was he due for a visit?

  I wracked my brain for the memory. It was last Friday night. I had just gotten home from Kurt's house. I was very tired and there was Ian, sitting on my couch, laughing with Amy and her whatshisname boyfriend, Rick. I swear Amy had a crush on Ian. When I came in, all three of them looked at me like I was interrupting a really good time, and I sat and sipped a beer while the three of them laughed it up. I think Ian stayed for an hour after I got home and then left. Amy and Rick left soon after. I didn't even ask Ian if he had wanted to spend the night, although I remember that it seemed like he had somewhere to be and I was tired anyway.