As Gladys spoke, my eyes landed briefly on the man we know shared, naked and unaware. They then landed on the vintage Dior jacket that was tossed onto the floor the moment he and I entered the hotel room. I wondered if this phone call was her coy way of letting me know what he and I were up to. Either way, I walked over to him and mouthed "It's Gladys." His face turned to stone. He shot into an upright position and covered his erection as if I had said there were cameras in the room.
During this silence, thoughts flew through my mind as to what she might say. When the words finally came out of her mouth and into my ear, my knees buckled and I sank down onto the bed.
"I have cancer," she said. Tears flooded my eyes as I repeated that last word ever so softly. "Well, okay, I don't have cancer but I really need my husband," Gladys said, every word tinged with unabashed selfishness.
My body got hot with fury as I told Gladys that to joke about cancer, in any capacity, was crude and I didn't find it funny. I also said how it was particularly cruel of her to make light of this disease when she was the one consoling me after my own mother died from pancreatic cancer.
I angrily hung up the phone and glanced over at Gladys' husband, my ex-husband. He was thoroughly confused, asking me what the hell was going on. I pressed my index finger to his lips before pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. I wasn't sure if Gladys knew it was me sleeping with her husband but I sure as hell knew that I had no intentions on stopping.
