by Mia Wolf
I cannot walk away from him now that he needs a helping hand. It doesn’t matter how far behind I left him, we can move forward together.
There’s a lightness in the air, in my being, in my breath—a lightness that I could get used to. Knowingly or unknowingly, I’ve always considered Warren to be the one for me, so much so that it scared me to realize how much he had changed. But the heart wants what it wants and mine hasn’t so much as glanced in another direction but his. I like myself when I like him so I bask in the glory of my inner glee, feeling profoundly and deeply happy that I get to give Warren the gift he gave me all those years ago.
I sleep without fear that night. I’m out like a light and no nightmares trouble me when I sink into the pillow and close my eyes.
Chapter 21 – Warren
I have dinner with Rose and Andrew again that night. I can feel that we’re warming towards each other. The conversation doesn’t feel so forced anymore. But no matter how much talking with them lifts me up, it can’t make the sinking feeling in my stomach go away.
So after dinner, I head to the bar to get inebriated again. There’s something about the idea of curing a hangover with more drinking that seems pretty alluring at the moment.
“Whiskey again?” Alex asks me before I have sat down on the bar stool. I shake my head.
“I’ll just have vodka tonight.”
I rotate on my chair to check out how the place is looking this evening, hoping that anything will catch my eye and keep me distracted from the fact that my heart has been shattered into a million pieces. I notice the same woman who had been hitting on me the last time I was here.
The last time I was here is the reason why I’m here. When will I learn my lesson?
“Vodka, neat. For Mr. Maibach,” Alex says in the cadence of a Victorian era butler as he hands me my glass. His hair is slicked back today which makes him look the part, too. He also looks happy.
“You’re shining, Alex,” I tell him. He graces me with a toothy smile in response.
“I have a date after my shift,” he tells me as he pours vodka into five shot glasses for a group of women on the other end of the counter.
His words sting which makes me feel stupid. Just because my heart is broken, I can’t be happy for anyone else on the planet? I gulp the vodka down and it burns so badly as it trickles down my throat that I bury my head in my hands. To be honest, I can’t distinguish between the physical ache and the heartache anymore.
“Good luck to you, sir.” I raise the empty glass at Alex and cock it a little to ask for a refill. He happily obliges.
“Warren Maibach,” says a man’s voice from behind me. Even before I turn around, I know who it belongs to.
Sebastian sits down on the empty chair next to me. If I had the energy to let out an exaggerated sigh right now, I would. When Alex comes back with my drink, I’m looking at him with accusatory eyes.
“Who told this nutcase that I’m in town?” I gesture to my right where Sebastian is sitting. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he’s staring at me with a stupid smirk on his face.
“Sorry,” Alex says. “Harvey saw you drop by last time.”
“How often do you talk to Harvey?” I ask Sebastian, annoyed at his presence.
“Oh, you know. From time to time. He helps a brother out.” Sebastian has a hiss to his tone which bothers me. Actually, I’m just bothered by all of him.
“Why are you here, Sebastian?” I ask him animatedly, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. Can I at least have heartbreak in peace?
“I’m here as a friend, Warren,” he says feigning sincerity. “I can’t just leave you alone to fend for yourself.” That hiss in his tone makes me want to punch him right now.
“You mean you want someone to waste his life away with you?” I ask, cutting to the chase. I would be able to keep my temper in check if I wasn’t so goddamn annoyed at the man.
“You seem to be doing great.” He points at the alcohol.
That rotten excuse for a human.
“Leave me alone, Sebastian. I thought I was clear when I said I’m done with you.” I gulp down the last of my vodka and ask Alex to hurry up with the payment.
“You can’t just walk out on a brother like that,” Sebastian says in a high-pitched voice, raising his arms as if I’m doing him great injustice.
“Yeah?” I ask him, shoving the credit card back into my wallet. “Watch me.”
I walk out of the bar and turn right, hoping that Sebastian won’t be in the mood to follow me and make a scene. He looked sober. Well, as sober as Sebastian can get.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sebastian yells from behind me.
I guess he’s in the mood to have a good old bear fight tonight. I spent several years of my life hanging out with Sebastian. We hit rock bottom together about three years ago, and I fell far down that rabbit hole for a couple of years until some sense came back to me. Funnily, Sebastian was already at rock bottom when I first met him, and by all accounts, he’s probably still there. He did a good job of being my guiding light.
I’m determined not to get into Sebastian’s clutches again. It’s not like he stands a chance against me. If I wanted to I could separate his head from his torso in my bear form in no time. A couple of years ago, my mind was so deep down in the rut that I could’ve actually physically hurt him. Or anyone else.
But now, things are different. I repeat those words to myself like a mantra as an image of Ashley’s crying face flashes before my eyes. ‘Things are different now,’ I say one final time for good measure, and I will prove that to Ashley. After I handle this.
Without a warning, Sebastian leaps towards me, but I am so ready for his move and so full of disgust at him that I knock him out in one clear punch. He screams as my fist meets his nose and goes down easily. He writhes on the floor, covering his face with his hands.
“You just want someone to keep you company while you ruin yourself with booze and sex,” I tell Sebastian as he spits out blood. “I ran into you at the wrong time in my life. Or, what I am more inclined to believe, you were hunting for someone just as unsuspecting and vulnerable as I was.”
Sebastian laughs in his broken state. “Unsuspecting and vulnerable? You make it sound like you were a damsel in distress, Maibach. Did I deflower you or something?”
I want to kick him in the groin and leave him to die, but I find the strength to turn my back on him and start jogging away. I hear him yell curses at me, but I pick up speed. I have something far more important to take care of.
Chapter 22 – Ashley
I go out for a light jog in the evening and even though I don’t usually accept any calls or reply to any messages when I’m working out, today I make an exception. I expect that Warren might text or call me. I’m thirty minutes into the jog when my phone buzzes. It’s 9 p.m. and the text is not from Warren. It’s Violet asking me to go over the manufacturing budget for my new fashion line. I star the email and shove the phone back into my pocket, but it buzzes again within a few seconds. I hurriedly retrieve it and check the notification. My heart quickens and I feel butterflies in my stomach when I see that it’s a text from Warren. My hand shakes as I click on the message to open it. I still haven’t completely gotten over what happened last night, but that’s not what matters right now.
“You have every right to hate me. But can I please get that one last chance to make up for my mistake? If you still say no, I promise I won’t text again,” the text reads. I notice that I feel a little uncomfortable that Warren would have to beg for something like that.
All I used to do when he tried to help me back then was push him away and swear at him, yelling that he was an idiot for sticking around me. The pain that I was in comes back like a ball of energy and courses through me once again, but there is another kind of hurt mixed in with it. How do you live knowing that you caused the one you love so much pain and suffering that you don’t even deserve to be a part of their
life?
It’s true that I am no longer the person I once was, but I cannot simply brush away my past as if it’s something undesirable. It’s painful, it’s embarrassing, it’s nerve-wracking, but it is what made me who I am today. Warren is what made me who I am today. If I look at myself in the mirror today and feel proud instead of disgusted, it’s partly because of who I was and because of who he was. I suppose neither of us has to cling to that painful past anymore, but we can do something about the present.
“Okay. What do you want to do?” I reply, trying to open the door for him.
I put the phone in my back pocket and grab the tiny water bottle at my waist to hydrate myself. I’m nearly done with the workout and I start to slowly walk back to my house. Old Ashley would be so surprised to see me exercise. She just never loved herself or her body enough to do anything good for it. It’s weird, but I can’t relate to that person anymore. Now I treat my body like sacred ground. It has saved me in more ways than one.
The phone vibrates at my back, and I give it some time before I take it out. I need to slow down first, catch my breath. Cardio can be intense.
The warm summer breeze helps, cooling my sweat covered skin. It’s peaceful out here, almost therapeutic. There are trees on either side of the road in this part of the neighborhood, and nobody’s driving here at this hour of the day. After spending hours sitting in that god awful chair, running has become the highlight of my day. Perhaps, I’m getting too old for the job. There was a time when I used to spring out of bed with vigor and zeal, but nowadays, I only lazily crawl out, dreading to get into my car and drive to work.
I finally check my phone and see Warren’s text on my screen. “You tell me, is there anything that I can do that will make you forgive me? Can we meet once?”
Once? My heart is shattered into a million pieces at the thought.
“It would be a great loss to me, Warren, if we only met once,” I text back then put the phone back into my pocket.
I continue to walk towards my house, enjoying the solitary experience. I don’t know how else to explain this feeling, but I feel present. I’m rooted inside my body and not an inch of my subconscious would rather be anywhere else but here. As someone who wanted to escape her skin so badly, I would say I have come a long way. I was almost a stranger to my physical form. I don’t know how much of this change I want to attribute to Warren. Perhaps, he was at the right place at the right time. Perhaps, that’s what I can give him right now. Instead of trying to save him for himself, maybe I can be a friend, maybe I can care about him on the days when he has lost all faith in himself. Maybe that’s what saves lives. I know it was what saved mine.
I’m almost home now, and I prepare myself for the final sprint that I always save for the end of my workout. I start running at full speed, watching the houses pass by as I pick up speed. ‘Just a few more blocks,’ I tell myself as I run even faster.
I turn around the corner and run into the street where my house is. I come to a halt in front of my house, and I bend down to rest my hands on my knees. My breath coming out in gasps, I pull out my phone and unlock it, sweaty thumbs leaving a residue on the screen. I wipe it with the back of my hand which is relatively free from sweat.
There are three new texts.
“Okay, when would be a good time to meet?” says the first one.
“How soon would be too soon?” says the second one.
“I may or may not have been standing outside your house for the last hour,” says the final one. It was sent fifteen minutes ago. I instinctively lift my head and see him standing next to the main door.
Sweat is dripping down my face, and I’m still breathing madly. Not a lot of people get to see me in this state because it’s generally believed that as the queen of the fashion world, you can’t have a hair out of place. I always found that to be a bit unfair. How is the queen of the fashion world supposed to keep maintaining that impeccable shape? Do people really believe that I’m born in perfection? I scoff at the thought, trying not to feel embarrassed that Warren gets to see me in this sweaty, panting form. Then I remember that I probably looked the same way when I had sex with him just a few days ago, and I can feel my already hot face turn crimson.
“Why are you facing the other way?” Warren asks as I fan my face to bring the blush down.
“No reason,” I tell him. “Just catching my breath.”
I turn around to face him once I feel comfortable enough to do so. In the distant light of a streetlamp, I can barely make out Warren’s face. He’s just a looming shadow and I sense my body mistaking him for a threat. I place a hand on my chest to prevent my heart from exploding. Our eyes briefly meet, but instead of reaching for me, he steps away and gestures at the door.
“We can sit in the garden if that’s comfortable for you,” he says, staring at the door instead of me.
I punch in the security code and make my way in. As much as I hate myself for it, I think I’ll take Warren up on his offer. I want to get over this visceral fear but maybe not all at once. For today, it’s enough that we get to talk.
Once we move into the light, and I can see Warren’s face clearly, I notice that he has a scratch on his face that’s still bleeding. My sense comes back to me, I’m not afraid of him anymore. He’s just Warren.
“Are you a thug?” I joke again and sit on the bench near the pool, Warren following after me.
“Excuse me?” he asks, sounding alarmed.
I point at his cheek and he reaches for it instinctively, wincing when his fingers touch the fresh wound. I rest my head at the back of the bench and look up at the stars. The summer breeze smells like flowers. Like Daisies? I have limited olfactory expertise. Warren, on the other hand, has a pretty sharp nose. I’ve always wondered why that is the case.
“What am I smelling?” I ask him while still focusing on the brightest star in the sky. This is unlike me. Letting go, letting loose.
Warren takes in a deep breath. “Black-eyed Susans, you mean?” he asks then pauses. “Or the body sweat?”
I punch his bicep even before I realize that I’m doing it. “You think you smell any better after a workout?” I ask him, laying my head down once again.
Warren shifts beside me and lays down his head next to me, his shoulder touching mine. I am deeply aware of the fact that my anxiety has evaporated. There is only calm, composure, and peace on my mind. I don’t know how much of it has to do with Warren and how much of it has to do with my own changed sense of being. Ever since I stopped harming myself, I have treated myself with care, cradled my body like a child and nurtured it. It’s funny how easy and comfortable it was to have sex with Warren. It felt so natural, as if his body knows mine, knows how to play it well.
I shake my head because it’s weird that I’m thinking about having sex with Warren while he’s sitting next to me.
“I know it’s the saddest cliché of all times, but I do think of you every time I look up at the stars. I have seen you walk down so many ramps on TV, surrounded by all those bright lights. You look exactly like a star in the night sky up on stage. Maybe it has something to do with your signature black and white style. But it’s the truth. You’re exactly like Betelgeuse.” I see Warren’s hand shoot up to the sky and point at a bright star next to the Orion.
I turn my head in his direction, touched by what he said.
“Does that work on ladies?” I ask him with a sneer. “Have you ever once picked up a chick with that line?” I snort in laughter, and I can tell Warren is smiling, too.
“It works on women,” he replies then mumbles faintly, “just not on you.”
“How do you know that?” I contest.
“Look at yourself,” he says sitting upright and staring at me. I sit upright and break into full-blown laughter as Warren points at me.
“What do you mean?” I ask him.
“Your nose is red from laughing,” he observes then lays his head back down on the bench in defeat.
Once my l
aughter calms down, I lay back down, too. “It works on me, don’t worry.”
Warren nudges my shoulder with his, and I tell him that I mean it. He still doesn’t believe me.
“We have changed, Warren,” I say in a serious tone. “I am not the same as I once was, and I can see that neither are you. We don’t need to keep chasing the vision of our old selves. I can’t keep looking for the man you once were. I already did that for a decade, foolishly enough. I want to know who you are now.” When Warren doesn’t reply for a while, I speak again. “What do you think? You don’t want to tell me?”
He sighs. “You’re asking me to stop being a shadow.”
I don’t know what he means, but I also know that pushing it won’t help. Asking him to stop being a shadow? His words are so cryptic that I don’t have the first clue about how to decipher them. I let it rest. All that matters is that we’re looking at the night sky again. Together.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that night a lot. That night at the Hilton’s restaurant, I mean, when we met and I was panicking. I was having a dinner meeting with someone and suddenly everything spiraled out of control. Yes, Steve was inappropriate, he crossed boundaries he shouldn’t have, I’m not justifying his behavior, but I still couldn’t understand my own reaction. Why was I so shaken?” I pause and take a deep breath, feeling a sense of calmness that escaped me that night. “I think I know why I was panicking. Ever since I stopped hurting myself, ever since I stopped cutting myself and started to treat my body like it’s sacred and precious and not to be damaged, I’ve become—” I pause to find a less incriminating word but can’t come up with one, “soft. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but I’ve become cautious about my body and that night, Steve caught me off guard. I lost all sense of control and perhaps the old, sad, dark memories resurfaced. Anyway, the reason why I’m telling you this is to say thanks. I really needed someone to take care of me that night because I couldn’t have done it myself.”