The Love of My (Other) Life by Traci L. Slatton

you. Do you know what they’re watching? I think it’s us. I didn’t need you to show up in my life and stalk me and seduce me.”
    “Oh, yeah, you did,” said Brian. “You’re the one who’s lost in a fantasy world of taking care of old people and punishing yourself for your past and living in the tomb of your failed marriage.”
    “My marriage didn’t fail, I failed,” I said. The manager of the Apple store was running from one Mac to the next and pounding on the keyboards.
    Brian shook his head. “That’s so neurotic. You have to cut that loose. David was never meant for you. He’s too rigid. You’re a kooky piece of work who needs a lot of holding. I could do that.”
    “Not everything revolves around you. Or sex,” I said. “I’ve got plenty of fulfilling relationships. I’m going to visit Mrs. Leibowitz.”
    “That’s not a relationship,” Brian said. “That’s you taking care of a dying old lady.”
    The video had reached a climax. My own ecstatic cries filled the Apple store. It was like one of those nightmares where you’re naked in public, only it was real. I was horrified into stillness like a pillar of salt.
    The Apple store manager sagged back against the display table and covered his face with his hands.
    “Dr. T, wow,” said Chad. “You are a true genius!”
    “You gave the lady a good time,” said Jordan with admiration. He led the other geniuses in applauding Brian. Everyone joined in except some children whose eyes were shielded by their mothers. The store reverberated with thunderous acclaim.
    Brian held up his arms in the victory sign and bowed.
    “How dare you!” I could feel myself flushing scarlet.
    “I dare,” said Brian. “I take risks.”
    There was no escaping it, I was going to have to live with the embarrassment. Hadn’t I become an expert at intimacy with my own shame? I flounced towards the door while holding my head high. My uneven limping spoiled my dramatic exit until I realized I didn’t have to wear only one shoe. Turning around, I took it off and flung it at Brian, who ducked.
    “Dude, good thing you already got some,” Jordan said. “Because I don’t think you’re getting any more.”
    “I’ve never actually had my own woman, so I don’t understand them,” Chad added. “But I’m pretty sure that when they throw a shoe at you, it’s not good.”
    Brian was staring at me with a look that was almost baleful. “No one, not physicists, not even Einstein, not the most brilliant genius of all physicists who comes up with the grand unified theory of everything in one simple equation, understands women!”
    Didn’t he get it? “I lost everything because of the risks I’ve taken,” I said. I left the store.
    I’d had enough insult with my injury.

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21
Cavemen and peeky-toe stilettos

    I knelt by Mrs. Leibowitz’s closet and pulled out a pair of outrageously fluffy, sequined turquoise slippers. Old-fashioned silk dresses swirled around my head, muffling my voice.
    “You don’t mind me borrowing these?” I yelled to be heard through the fabric.
    “You don’t have to shout, dear, my hearing still works,” said Mrs. L. “I only wish my feet were your size, and you could have some real shoes.”
    “These are perfect,” I assured her. “No heels for me to break.”
    “Tessa, there’s only one antidote to breaking heels.”
    I climbed out of the closet and perched expectantly in the chair beside Mrs. L’s bed. I recognized that arch tone, and I knew from our long association that she would come out with something funny and unexpected. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s that, Mrs. L?”
    “Four-inch high, peeky-toe, patent leather, fuck-me-now stilettos!” Mrs. Leibowitz grinned.
    “Mrs. Leibowitz!” I remonstrated, laughing.
    “Nothing makes a round ass look more enticing.
    The stilettos give you a wiggle, and men can’t resist that. Brian would love it.” She cut her eyes at me.
    I sighed. “Brian is