4– Not Worth Keeping

Years ago, before the marriage, before the arrangement, before she tucked herself into Julian’s quiet house and learned to want less, Lena used to party.

It was how she processed things: a loud room, a dark dance floor, a glass in her hand. It wasn’t elegant and she knew it. But it worked. 

Tonight, she turned to the same old ways.

The club was already alive when she walked in, the bass thrumming through the floor and up into her chest like a second heartbeat. Lena walked straight to the bar, pulled out a stool, and sat down.

“Whiskey. Neat,” she said. 

The bartender slid it across without a word.

She drank it in three swallows and set the glass down.

“Another.”

The bartender poured. 

She drank and set the glass down again with a sharp crack against the counter.

“More!”

“Ma’am—”

“More,” Lena said again, louder, her palm flat on the bar. The bartender looked at her for a moment, then reached for the bottle.

By the fourth glass she had stopped feeling the burn. By the fifth she had stopped feeling most things, which was precisely the point.

 

She was staring into her sixth when a man appeared beside her. 

“You look like you’re having a terrible night,” he said.

Lena looked at him slowly. “And you look like you think you can fix that.”

He laughed. “Maybe I can. But it depends on the problem…”

A small smile touched Lena’s lips. “My husband’s ex-girlfriend has suddenly returned and now my husband wants a divorce…”

The man whistled. “That is not a problem I can solve.”

“I thought so,” Lena whispered with a heavy heart and took a gulp of her drink.

“But I can help take your mind off things,” the man suggested and waved the bartender close, “by ordering you something stronger.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Lena asked, her voice mischievous. 

“Maybe…” the man muttered.

Lena should have sent him away. The composed Lena who had spent three years making herself small and manageable inside Julian’s house would have smiled politely and turned back to her drink.

But that Lena had heard her husband declare that he wanted a divorce. That Lena had been told she had been holding someone else’s place. That Lena had nothing left to protect tonight.

So she smiled back. “I would very much like something stronger.”

And so the fun began. Lena and the man talked about nothing and everything. He was funny, or maybe the whiskey made him funny. 

He leaned close when he spoke and she let him. 

He touched her arm and she didn’t move away.

And when he asked, “would you like to dance?” Lena readily accepted. And they ventured onto the dancefloor. 

It was fun, until Julian came. 

How Julian was able to find her so quickly, Lena did not know, but the man had his ways.

Julian pushed through the crowd on the dancefloor and went straight to Lena who was at the center of the chaos.

She was drunk. Visibly, completely drunk. Surrounded by men who had taken her easy laughter as an invitation, her loose movements as permission. 

Julian pushed through the circle that had formed around Lena, and took her by the arm.

“Hey! what the fuck man!” one of the men complained.

“You better back the fuck up,” Julian spat.

The man stepped back.

Lena turned, blinking slowly, and when she focused on his face, confusion contorted her face. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re leaving,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, pulling her arm.

He didn’t let go. “Lena.”

“Let go of me, Julian.” Her voice was louder than she intended. A few heads turned.

“She said to let her go, man,” another man stepped in, pushing Julian by the shoulder.

 

Julian dropped his head, exhaled a calming breath and looked up at the man. “The next time you touch me will be your last. I dare you. And you all should stay the fuck away from my wife!”

Before the chaos could drag on, Julian dragged Lena with him outside. He opened the front seat and pushed her in, then rounded the car to the driver’s side.

The engine roared to life and he sped off, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles paled.

“You had no right,” Lena said.

“I had every right,” Julian growled. “And don’t give me shit for saving you from those animals!”

“You didn’t save me from anything! And I did not beg you to be here!” Lena retorted.

“Lena—”

“You want a divorce. You can’t just show up wherever I am and drag me out because you feel like it.”

“I’ll feel like it until those papers are signed,” Julian responded.

The car was quiet for exactly thirty seconds.

“Have I ever stopped you from going out, Julian? Have I stopped you from going to see your returned girlfriend?” Lena asked, her head tipped back against the seat.

“Is that why you were making a mess of yourself?” Julian asked.

“I have the right to do whatever I want with my body.”

“Not while you’re still my wife.”

Lena laughed, and it was not a kind sound. “Oh, now I’m your wife. How convenient.”

“Lena—”

“Why do you care?” she turned to look at him, and even drunk, her eyes were direct. “You want out. You have made that very clear. So let me have my night. Let me dance with whoever I want. Let me drink myself into the floor if that’s what I feel like doing. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I don’t know you to be like this,” Julian said.

“You don’t know me at all,” she shot back. “You said so yourself. So don’t even try to pretend you know who I am or what I’m like.”

“You were letting those men—”

“I was dancing,” she cut him off before he could say something offensive.

“You were letting them treat you like—”

“Like what?” she asked. “Say it, Julian. Like what?”

Julian didn’t take the bait.

“That’s what I thought,” Lena said, and turned back to the window.

“I’m not doing this because I want to control you,” Julian whispered after a moment.

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I don’t want to see you destroy yourself over this,” he replied.

Lena was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again her voice had lost most of its heat. 

“You should have thought about that before you decided I wasn’t worth keeping.”