by Celia Crown
“I don’t understand—” she tries, hazel eyes wide with confusion and panic.
She should panic now that I caught her in her lies.
“You are despicable.” I hiss, my jaw hurt from how hard I’m clenching them. “I’ve been nothing but good to you and you do this to me?”
Lolita stammers, “Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You know what I’m talking about!” I bark at her, venom poisoning my words as she hiccups in shock.
“I really don’t!” she defends.
“Did you really love me?” my voice becomes a mockery of my feelings.
“Yes!”
Even now, she’s still lying to my face. My heart races achingly against my ribs and I bite the inside of my cheek to fully raise my voice. I can’t even if I wanted to, her devastated face prevents me from doing any further harm.
She has influence over me and my heart won’t let me cause her any more pain.
I fucking hate myself for wanting to pull her into my arms and apologize for something that I have the rights to be angry about.
“Just leave,” I tell her with a voice of a man who’s doing everything to not fall apart.
She whimpers, tears brimming in her eyes. “Jack—”
“Now!” I glare at her, and she shudders with frightful eyes.
A tear rolls down her cheek and I close my eyes.
“Just fucking leave.”
Chapter Seven
Lolita
I don’t hear Kelly calling my name or notice the tears running down my face, I just feel the tears in my heart splitting wider and wider.
I blink and sob even harder.
“Lolita, what—what in the world happened? Are you hurt?” her hands take mine and removes them from my face.
Her face has concern written all over it and I throw myself into her arms, she wraps them around me with a motherly embrace. I soak her shirt with tears, I struggle to breathe as my chest hurts with crushing squeezes.
The day was going fine before everything went to hell.
Some nameless man came into the shop just half an hour ago, decent man with a clean image to him skips into the parlor and takes me by surprise with a kiss. My brain hadn’t caught up with what happened until I hear Kelly’s bewildered shrill and then my hands are trying to rip his off my face.
His hold was strong, but I managed to get away from him before any more damage had been done. He had the audacity to beam brightly and exclaim that he was my biggest fan and that he had always wanted to meet me.
Kelly had kicked him out immediately and I was so upset that I needed Jackson.
Then, that happened.
I don’t know where everything began to go wrong. Was it something I did or said to him that made him question my love for him?
Kelly guides me to the waiting couch for customers and I plop down with her pushing my head down on her lap. I grasp her waist and cried into her pudgy stomach, she doesn’t ask questions as she runs her hand into my hair. Her attempt to soothe my sobbing doesn’t work, I just cry even more.
I’m bombarded with confusion clouds and mist of hurt that I stutter out questions that I have no answer to. One question got her attention, it’s a simple one and I barely caught it when I’m rambling.
“I did something wrong, I made him angry.” I whimper wetly, “What did I do?”
Kelly gently urges me to explain or else she can’t help me, I try to tell her the whole story the best I can through ugly sobs and gross hiccups.
“Slow down, slow down,” she voices her concern, “You need to breathe, I’m right here. Take your time.”
I choke a sob into her stomach, pressing my eyes to her belly as I swallow the thick saliva perching in my mouth.
I tell her everything, detail inside details. I tell her what I know and what I saw when I walked into Jackson’s café and how he reacted, my reaction to his anger and the fear I had. He’s never been angry at me and I didn’t know what to do because I don’t know what I did wrong.
“Lolita, stop crying.” Kelly pats my shaking shoulders, “Let’s talk this out and see clearly.”
Tears flow messily all over my eyes as I choke back another gut-wrenching sob, I try to sniff back the brimming tears with a loud cough. Kelly maneuvers me off her lap and into a sitting position where my butt is molded heavily on the couch. I’m limp in her arms when she peels the wet pieces of hair away from my face, my skin is weighty on my bones and I hate that another round of tears falls messily.
I think that with what I went through today, my emotionally drained body can cry all it wants.
“Alright,” Kelly wipes away the moisture from my eyes with rough fingers, she’s not the type to comfort anyone.
She’s a bit rusty when she tries to soothe my shuddering breath, “Tomorrow, we’re going to confront him about his little stunt, okay?”
There’s nothing little about the fight, if it can be considered as that. It’s more of a one-sided argument when I was trying to make sense of whatever he had meant.
My eyes water when I remember that he questioned my love for him.
I immediately shake my head, the movement makes my head spin nauseatingly. “No! No, I’ll go myself.”
I don’t want to involve Kelly into a mess that I probably made, I somehow inadvertently make things worse and I don’t even notice it.
I’m a big girl, I can fix this. I don’t want Jackson to be mad at me, my heart can’t take that cold look he has, and I want it gone from his face. He’s always been this gentle soul that adores me, but this new Jackson has so much betrayal in his eyes that it must be some unforgivable thing.
“Please don’t go to him, I can fix it. I can fix it!” I repeat to myself, it’s a mantra now as I zone out.
She shushes me softly, “Yes, yes. I won’t go, I’ll stay here.”
Kelly lets me stay in the couch with her rubbing soothing circles on my back when I drop back into her lap, her comforting scent of ink and woody aroma lures me to a tired haze.
“Kelly?” I meekly raise my voice.
Her hand stops for a moment in my hair before snapping out a thick knot from the strands, she hums for me to continue.
“Can you talk to me? Anything is fine,” I said, a rogue hiccup makes my hands tighten on her shirt.
The silence in the shop is deafening and it causes a ringing in my ears that bothers me. I need something to distract me from the agony that my heart is going through.
She starts with her childhood stories, pranks she would do and tantrums she would have when things don’t go her way. Sometimes her tummy would shake in laughter or go stiff at a point of a story where she is a little too passionate.
My eyes drop, I don’t feel so alone now that her voice is a companion to my beating heart. Curling further into her, I close my eyes. With the rest of my energy, I put them into my sleep.
It’s a dreamless sleep that wakes me with more tiredness than I could comprehend. My joints are sore, my eyes are disgustingly crusty from the tears, and I wipe the blurriness from my eyes with the back of my hand.
I’m no longer sleeping on Kelly, there’s a pillow under my head and a blanket over my body. I hear nothing in the shop that would indicate that Kelly is in the vicinity, I yawn widely and I pull my protesting body up. The blanket pools on my waist, bringing the cold air onto my skin.
Yesterday flashes back to me with fragmented pieces, I bite my lip harshly and tries to focus my attention on the physical pain than the metaphorical heartbreak. It should be considered a real pain since it hurts even more than the throbbing flesh.
“Don’t cry, Lolita.” I slap my face with my palms and the stinging temporarily stops the tears from tumbling down.
I swallow tearfully, “It’s okay, it’s just a nightmare. He’s not angry at me, I’m just being dramatic. Maybe he had a bad day.”
I’m delusional, but I want to stay in the lighthearted story for a moment longer before reality catches up to me a
nd I don’t think my heart can take another hit of sadness.
I search for the clock on the wall and my stomach does a flip, it’s almost time for Jackson to open the shop. I can intercept him then, I can—
My brain skirts to a halt.
I can what? What can I do? I have no idea what I should do when he doesn’t even tell me what I did wrong. Did I do something so obviously unforgiving that he’s expecting me to know where in our happiness did a speck of darkness seeped in?
I shake my head, throwing my hair around and flings the blanket away from my feet as I blindly hound for my shoes. It doesn’t matter anymore, I just need to see him.
My feet jam into the pair of shoes and I’m out of the door with a bang. I rub my eyes with vigor and runs to his shop that’s right next door, I come to a stop when I see him with his hand on the door handle.
“Jack,” I call, I hope he hears the pleading in my voice.
He doesn’t turn to acknowledge me as he snaps, “I have nothing to say to you.”
I bite back a whimper, trying to will away the tears swarming in my eyes. I have to be strong, I have to be quick because he’s unlocking the door and opening it. My hand goes to grasp him, I want him to look at me or do something other than giving me the cold treatment.
He’s acting as if we’re strangers.
I hate it.
“Do not touch me with your dirty hands.”
My hands shake in midair, my heart completely shatters at his vicious tone. I take back my hands and risk a glance at his profile; dark eyes narrowing with hurt betrayal, clenched jaw, and the face of a closed-off man.
I don’t want him to be more upset with me.
I step back, giving him space and cries silently, whatever I wanted to say is not there anymore. I wanted to ask him for forgiveness and tell me what I did so I don’t do it in the future and I hope that we can go back to how we were.
I end up being stupid and the confidence in me dims to nothing.
“I-I’m sorry,” I begin, “I’m sorry for whatever I did, I didn’t mean to hurt you. And—and if you don’t want me anymore, I won’t come back. I promise. I just—”
God, I sniff. I can’t properly apologize to save my life.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
The door slams shut.
The back of my hands shields a bystander’s wandering interest, I cry with heaving shoulders. I press the back of my hands to my eyes, pushing back the tears that wet my cheeks.
I try and try to think back on how I offended him. I can’t think of anything, we were so happy before yesterday.
This disappointment in his eyes stabbed my heart with a dagger and twisted out with a jagged yank that tore my heart to shreds.
“Lolita.” Kelly’s voice is behind me, soft and comforting as she takes my soaked hands from my face.
My eyes rim with red as I stare lifelessly at her.
“Come back inside.” she wraps her hand around my wrist and pulls, my pliable body follows as I’m dragging my feet behind. I look back to the window of the café, Jackson isn’t in the front.
He doesn’t want to see me.
He can’t stand the sight of me that he has to go into the kitchen to avoid me.
You’re a disappointment, Lolita. I sigh dejectedly to myself.
Disappointment. Of course I did something wrong, why else would Jack be angry at me.
The angry hissing from my inner thoughts snarls at me, screaming and yelling for me to turn around and run into the café to explain myself and beg for his forgiveness. I’m not above getting on my knees.
Kelly must have felt my pull and she squeezes my delicate wrist, “No, you’re not thinking straight.”
“No, I can explain. He’ll understand!” I plead with a sob.
She shakes her head with pity and keeps me in the tattoo parlor.
“Lolita!”
I shut my mouth with a feeble hiccup.
“Wounds are fresh and raw, you’ll only make it worse on yourself when he explicitly tells you he doesn’t want to see you again! Give him some space!” Kelly’s shoulder drops with a dramatic sigh as I purse my trembling lips.
She’s right, it’s best if I let Jackson cool down before talking to him again.
“He’ll come to you when he’s ready,” she said, her tone is sensible and rational.
I can’t keep bothering him when he doesn’t want to talk to me. I would just annoy him if I show up all the time, demanding to speak to him to find out what I can do to fix this.
“What if he doesn’t come?” I murmur, whining with another tear dripping down my chin.
Kelly doesn’t say anything, and I know the answer.
If he doesn’t come, then it means he wants nothing to do with me.
“He will,” Kelly suddenly says.
“I promise, he will come.” she’s adamant, but I don’t know whether or not I believe her.
I do know that Kelly has never lied to me.
What I didn’t know, however, was that I wouldn’t be seeing him for a week and counting.
Chapter Eight
Jackson
I shut the café for an entire two days before opening, I didn’t want to be anywhere near that place for a while. Not when I need to gather my thoughts and be a little more composed rather than an animal pacing around with so much anger.
Customers complained, and some concerned frequenters wanted to know if I was alright, I just told them that there were personal things I had to take care of.
They didn’t pry, and I wasn’t going to tell them anyway. My cashier has more contact with me than regular customers, so she picked up on my change of mood. She asked once if there was something she could do to help, and I appreciate her offer, but I told her I was fine.
I was not fine.
It’s reflecting on my work as people mention that the pastries were still good but it’s missing something. I simply told them it’s new changes in the recipes that I was trying out.
Changes, I scoff to myself.
This is affecting me too much, it’s been a week of suffering and I haven’t seen a glimpse of Lolita.
I force myself to not think about her, I don’t need the distraction when I have a life that I need to pick up after it’s been dismantled by her hands. Those hands that once held me so tenderly, but it’s the reminder of her betrayal now.
Lolita never came over again.
She didn’t try to seek me out one more time. A part of me wants her to talk to me again because I know that if I look at her, I’ll forgive her. If I’m honest, I don’t think I could ever look past the cheating, but not being with her hurts me more than her unfaithfulness.
I’m a fool for wanting a woman who doesn’t treasure me like I cherish her.
“You are moping,” my cashier points out.
I grunt with a wave of a hand over my shoulder, “Go away.”
The stainless-steel counter reflects my miserable appearance; my hair is everywhere and the bags under my eyes are darker than the chocolate moose I’m trying to make, and the stubbles on my face have grown longer than I normally keep them.
“The angel cake ran out, we need more.” she comes next to me and sighs with a shake of her head.
“My holy Jesus, you need a mirror.” she winces, I direct her a glare.
She shrugs her shoulders and groans, “You are a very attractive guy, but this scruffy caveman look is getting out of hand.”
“Don’t concern yourself over me.” I walk away to the pantry to gather all the ingredients out for an angel cake.
She blows on her nails; her shiny lip-gloss makes her lips look obnoxiously plump. “I haven’t eaten anything all morning, I’m starving. Got anything to eat?”
I gesture to the refrigerator, she nods a thank you before bouncing over. Speaking of food, I didn’t eat much over the week. I don’t feel any hunger in me, I’m neither full or starving.
My head snaps up, “Did she eat yet?”
My ca
shier pops her head out the refrigerator with a hum, “What’s that?”
I choose not to answer her as I shake my head. I sigh loudly and lowly as I drop my head onto my arms, I rest my throbbing forehead as I close my eyes. Lolita is probably with her man right now with him taking care of her and feeding her food.
I grit my teeth, curling my hands into fists.
Here I am worrying over that girl while I’m barely taking care of myself. Truth is, I don’t care what happens to me, I want Lolita to be set in life and have someone who she can count on.
“Dude.” California girl will always be California girl, their way of speaking will never change.
“Why do you have cupcakes, strawberry parfait, and a freaking butternut cheesecake?!” she screams in excitement.
My eyes widen and my head spins to her, “Don’t touch it!”
I scared her into straightening her back and shutting her mouth, her wide eyes are frozen with her hands so close to the parfait. I didn’t mean to yell at her, but I was feeling urgent and protective.
“You can’t have them,” I tell her slowly, making sure she understands that I’m serious.
She raises her hands and shut the door, “Sorry, I know those are for Lolita. My bad, I got too excited.”
I nod back at her; the air is tense as we stay in a moment of thick silence. “I apologize.”
“No, no.” she forces a laugh, “I know better. Lolita has special treatment.”
“Yes,” I find myself answering back to her, and it’s so natural because it’s the truth.
“Um,” she starts, trying to find her way around her words as I stand there watching her attempt to tread lightly around my mood.
“I don’t know what happened, but I can tell you really like Lolita. I’ve never seen you so happy unless it’s with her, and from a woman’s perspective, she likes you too.”
Not sure what to trust anymore, my own eyes or my own heart.
“It’s complicated,” I answer her.
She smiles briefly, “Everything is complicated, just don’t let whatever is happening stop you from holding onto Lolita. She’s a good girl, you don’t find people like her anymore.”