• Felice

The Unraveling

“The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and Ill together” – Shakespeare



It was a Friday night and I was exhausted. One of the few weekends spent at home, we were always on the go. So when he said he was going out that night for a friend’s party, I thought GREAT, some me time. I was tired and he seemed to want his own company for the evening as well. So I proceeded with my normal self-care activities for the night. He called me drunkenly slurring his words, to check in I guess. But it was so loud I couldn’t understand. He was going to the next spot with so and so. Me; ok whatever. I assumed he’d let me know when he’d be home. So I got into bed and tucked in my phone next to me so I could answer if he called again.


At some point I woke up but I didn’t have any texts or calls. I called/texted, no answer. So I went back to sleep, but not for long. My brain started to run away with anxiety thinking, “what if something’s wrong, he would’ve at least called or texted by now.” 2 am passes, 3 am passes, and I’m sure now that whatever club or bar he’s gone to has closed. I call again, no answer. At this point I’m no longer shoving my anxiety off as little worries. My inner self is screaming that something is seriously wrong here. I call again, no answer. I have no idea who he’s with, to call and check if they’re ok. I wonder if our train has stopped, maybe he got an uber? Or maybe he got robbed on the way back? Was he somewhere drunk and laid out? I start to panic. Something is seriously wrong. He would not just not call or text and not come home.


I’m calling and calling with no answer. I start to think the worst, “maybe he’s dead, something happened. Should I call a hospital? No, I’ll check the train first. Something about an outage. Ok so that’s safe, he’s not somewhere stabbed and bleeding outside of the subway. I feel a slight sense of relief. I try ‘find my phone,’ but it’s not activating because he’s turned his location off. Damn. Ok, what else can I do? I keep calling. I finally give in and I call the local hospital to see if anyone by his name has been admitted. No one by that name. More relief. He’s not dead. But where is he???

I remember that he once gave me his credit card/bank passwords “in case of emergency.” Well, this seemed like an emergency. So I find the password and log in. Bar purchases, ok good. More reason to believe he’s not dead. No random gas station fill-ups so someone hasn’t stolen his wallet. But then I see a purchase from a website. Well, this is an odd hour to be purchasing a hotel.


I go to the website and log in. A hotel reserved for that evening at a swanky looking boutique hotel downtown. Now at this point you’re wondering what I’m thinking? I’m so far into confusion and that I couldn’t possibly understand why he would need to reserve a hotel. And why he is not answering my calls? Maybe he’s too drunk, or maybe he’s mad from an argument we’d had earlier that day? Maybe he didn’t want to come home and argue? Well, I gathered my things, packed a bag (because we were supposed to be going out of town), wrapped my headscarf tight and headed downtown. About 4 am at this point.


When I got to the hotel I knew their policy would be that they could not share guests information if they weren’t listed on the room. I tell the concierge I understand his policy. I know that he’s here he just didn’t give me the room information and I think he’s asleep. So the concierge calls the room for me several times, no answer. I’ve found him.


A few more times of me calling and the concierge calling and he apologizes. I understand and I stand in the lobby with my bags, I’ll just wait. He looks at me with concern and seems to hesitate. Finally he says, “Well… I can take you up.” Great thank you so much. I’m relieved.


I follow him up through the elevator, past the chandelier, vaulted ceilings, and to the room. He knocks, a few times, no answer. He opens with the key and allows me to pass. I whisper thank you and the door closes softly behind me. I walk down the hall. It’s almost light out now, just a little before dawn breaking. I drop my bags at the door to the bedroom, He’s there I hear him snoring. I see the lump of his shape in the bed covered. But… the lump is too big for just him.


I peer closely to see a head of hair peeking out of the covers. The terror and confusion that washes over me in that moment is indescribable. I yank the covers back to expose two naked bodies, one of a woman I did not quite recognize. She looks up at me shocked. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?! I scream.


Finally the woman’s face registers with me. But why is she here? How? How could this be?

I spring towards them and he leaps up from the bed to tackle me. He smells like sex, sweat and liquor. When I came to my senses I start to notice the items around the room. Her shoes in the living area, her phone at the end of the bed, his phone on the nightstand. Her clothes nowhere to be found.


What was there for me to do? I knew nothing good could come of this, so I left in a daze.

Legal Disclaimer: This story is a dramatization drawn from a variety of sources and reflects the author's recollections as well as fictionalized scenes, composite and representative characters and dialogue, and time compression. The views and opinions expressed are those of the characters only and do not necessarily reflect or represent the views and opinions held by individuals on which these characters may be based.

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© ungilded, 2019. Stories are dramatizations drawn from a variety of sources and may not be based on verifiable events. Names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy and anonymity of individuals and any semblance is coincidental. Information presented on this site are opinions or interpretations of events, and are not intended to replace or supplement advice from mental health professionals.  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Felice and ungilded with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.