Arsen: A Broken Love Story

by Mia Asher

  I take my jacket off and lower myself on my knees to pet Mimi as I coo, “Hi, pretty girl. Did you miss your mommy and daddy?” Purring, she lets me pick her up in my arms. I kiss the top of her head, stalling for time. I’m not sure why, but I feel like I have some explaining to do as if I’m guilty of a major crime.

  Maybe you are.

  No, I’m not.

  No, I am not.

  “Would you like another beer before going to bed?” Hesitation echoes in my voice. I let Mimi jump down and move to the kitchen looking for food.

  I watch as Ben removes his pinstriped navy blue Brooks Brothers suit jacket, the outline of the thick muscles on his back visible through the white shirt. He turns to look at me as he starts to tug at his tie. Forcefully.

  I love that tie.

  I bought it for him.

  Looking past me, he talks cooly to his reflection in the mirror behind me, “Not tonight. On our way here, I remembered some paperwork that needs my attention. I’m going to head to the office and,” he glances at me sideways, “Work.”

  His words feel like a bucket full of ice-cold water thrown in my face. “Oh, okay. I just…you, um…okay. I guess. Should I wait up for you?” I look down at my watch and see that it’s only 10:00 p.m.

  “No.”

  Ben closes the space between us, wraps his hands around my shoulders and leans down to kiss me. I close my eyes and wait for his kiss. A kiss that I hope will clear the stiffness in the air. Seconds pass and nothing.

  Opening my eyes, brown ones meet my stare. Slowly, I watch as Ben lets go of my shoulder, his hand making its way to my face. Cupping my cheek, his thumb softly rubs the spot where Arsen kissed me as if cleaning a stain off my skin.

  Silently, we stare at each other as time stands still.

  “Go to bed, Cathy,” he whispers huskily.

  And he is gone.

  I toss and turn for what seems like hours. Images of Ben and Arsen keep swirling in my head, disrupting me from falling asleep. I give up and turn on the lamp on my nightstand as my eyes land on the alarm clock.

  1:11 a.m.

  And no Ben.

  My gaze lands on my cellphone, a crazy idea settling in my head. Before I lose courage, I reach for it and type a message.

  C: What was that about?

  I wait for ten minutes which turns into a half hour. Giving up the hope that he’ll text me back, I put my phone down on the nightstand when it buzzes.

  A: Go fuck your husband, Dimples. I’m busy.

  His message is like a stinging slap on the face. Perplexed by his answer and hurt by his words, I decide he doesn’t deserve an answering text.

  I wonder who is keeping him busy? The answer shouldn’t matter to me, but it does.

  When I lie back on my pillow, turning on my side and pulling the covers around my shoulders, I close my eyes tightly and try to fall asleep. I try to push Arsen’s message out of my mind.

  It shouldn’t bother me. It shouldn’t hurt me. He is nothing to me.

  But, it does.

  I don’t know why,

  And I don’t think I want to know why.

  As I’m drifting into sweet oblivion, the last image to cross my mind is of a pair of saddened brown eyes.

  Ben.

  Hearing my alarm going off, I groan as I reach blindly to shut it off. In the early morning, even the most melodious tune can sound like an aggressive battle cry to start the day. I hate it. After I shut off the annoying sound, I lie flat on my back and stretch my arms and legs, shaking the sleep away. Turning to my left, I open my eyes, expecting to find a sleepy Ben snoozing.

  He isn’t there.

  His pillow looks fluffy and perfect, like he didn’t sleep on it. My skin prickling, I sit up and look around. Ben is nowhere to be seen. Even the bathroom door remains closed. He has a bad habit of always leaving the door open whenever he takes a shower, letting the steam escape purposefully. He says too much steam makes him sweat.

  “Ben?” I ask, my voice groggy from sleep.

  No answer.

  Once I’m standing, the chilly air touches the skin that isn’t covered by my silky top and shorts, raising goosebumps all over my body. I rub my arms to warm myself up as I reach the bathroom door and open it slowly. Ben is not here.

  I notice something stuck between the glass and the wooden frame on the mirror above my dresser. Biting my lip, I reach for the note and read it. My hand covers my mouth as I feel my breath catch in the back of my throat.

  Hope you don’t mind driving yourself to work this morning. I forgot to tell you last night that I needed to go to the office earlier than usual this morning. Big lawsuit. Don’t expect me for dinner.

  Ben.

  He didn’t wake me up to say good-bye.

  He left without saying a word.

  With a tight chest and a churning stomach, I make it to work. I hope the way my day started isn’t a sign of things to come because I might not be able to make it through without breaking down and crying. On my drive into the city, I tried calling Ben three times, but each time Carla excused him, saying that he was in meetings. Ben has never not answered my phone calls and he has never left home without first kissing me goodbye.

  Until today.

  On the short walk from the parking garage to my office, I notice the dark sky with its ominous gray clouds heralding showers any moment now.

  Great, that’s just great.

  The humid air makes my body feel clammy with sweat, causing my clothes to stick to my skin, and the constant honking of busy traffic in the middle of rush hour in Manhattan feels like a nail being pounded into my head with each blare of a horn. I make it to the office without getting rained on, say hello to the security guards, and head to the office.

  Once I’m sitting behind my desk, I reach for my black leather Gucci satchel and pull out my phone and a small pocket size mirror. Feeling a tight knot form in my stomach after I confirm that Ben hasn’t called me back, I wonder if I should give him another call.

  But my pride won’t let me.

  I didn’t do anything wrong. If he would only speak to me, I would know what was the matter. Arsen, the small voice inside my head whispers. No. Why would Ben be upset about Arsen? There is nothing there.

  We are friends. Good friends.

  Or so I thought.

  After yesterday, I’m not sure anymore. Ben knows, he suspects. Shaking my head like a mad woman, I try to dispel the insinuating thoughts roaring through my mind.

  No, no, no!

  With a trembling hand, I put my cellphone back in my bag and reach for my mirror on the desk. I take a look at myself, and I’m appalled to see the black bags under my eyes. The tight bun holding my blonde hair in place only accentuates how tired and pale I look, almost like a ghost. And not even the small amount of makeup I have can hide the fact that today I don’t look my best.

  Whatever.

  I’m allowed to have a bad day, right? After I apply some much-needed lipstick and blush, I’m ready to officially start the day.

  “There you are! Cathy, I’m going through a major crisis in my life.”

  “Morning, Amy. You’re looking well this morning.” I smile at her, even if it’s the last thing I want to do at the moment. She looks breathtaking with her hair blown out in thick curls and the tight grey pantsuit she’s wearing.

  “Thank you, love. You look great as well. Black suits you with your coloring. Anyway, as I was saying…major crisis, Hello!”

  “Well, tell me about it. We have a couple minutes to waste.” I feel the first sincere smile on my face since yesterday evening.

  Amy grabs a fiery red wave between her fingers and observes it for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “Catherine, Cathy, Cat…the sad truth is that I need a good screwing. I have forgotten what it feels like to have an orgasm without my rabbit.”

  I feel my cheeks blush. “Um,” How do you answer that? “I thought you, uh, weren’t you seeing that guy with the yacht? What was h
is name? Nigel?”

  Amy moves to sit on the corner of my desk, exactly where Arsen sat yesterday. The moment feeling like a déjà vu. “Yes…but he wasn’t good in bed. At all. Like, sex with Nigel was one, two, ooooh baby, baby, you’re so tight, so wet, and he was done.” Snapping her fingers, she motions the quickness of the act itself before continuing, “I’m totally under-fucked. Which reminds me, I need you to introduce me to Charles. What? Don’t look at me with those big and pretty green eyes of yours. I’m a straight woman, they don’t work on me. You know which Charles I’m talking about. Girl, I need him in my bed. Now. And you’re going to make it happen.”

  Oh boy.

  “Amy, um, he is Bruno’s closest friend. You remember who Bruno is, right? Your boss? My boss? How the hell am I going to introduce you two if I’m not friends with him?”

  She waves her hand in the air, as if that small detail has no bearing on the conversation. “I’m not sure. I noticed him at the cocktail party that Bruno held when he first got in town. I saw him talking to you and Ben, and he was checking me out. So make it happen, Cathy. I have faith in you and your planning abilities. Invite him to dinner or something. I’m serious, Cathy. I want him.”

  “What makes you think he is, you know, good in bed? I mean he’s good looking but—”

  “Darling, dahhhling...the man has been around. Don’t let him fool you by his girly job. If half the things that are said about him are true, I might be bowlegged for a couple days,” Amy devilishly smirks, wiggling her elegant eyebrows at me, and causing us to laugh.

  Amy and I are still laughing when an angry Bruno storms into my office. Without saying a word to us, he throws a newspaper on my desk.

  “Look at this!” He shouts. Puzzled, we lean over my desk to have a better look at the front page of the publication.

  The picture erases all traces of mirth off my face.

  Swallowing hard, I reach for the newspaper and bring it closer so that I can see the image clearer. When I’m holding it between my hands, I can feel Amy move closer to me. “Oh, no.”

  My stomach recoils as I scrutinize the picture. Plastered on the front page is a picture of Arsen sniffing coke off a girl’s breasts. The white shirt he wore yesterday is mostly open, revealing his beautiful and perfect tanned chest. His blond hair looks messy, but it’s his flat stare that breaks me. His eyes look cold. So cold. Arsen is high on alcohol or drugs, maybe both, and he appears not to care that he’s being photographed. This guy is the old Arsen, not the sweet guy that I’ve grown to care for in the past months. It looks like they are at someone’s house and the girl is the same bartender from last night. The same one.

  I know I’m to blame for this.

  My throat dry, I’m having some difficulty swallowing as I remember the way he looked at me before leaving. When our eyes connected for an instant that felt like an eternity, I remember seeing emotions reflected in them that I pushed to the back of my mind, pretending that they didn’t exist.

  Betrayal.

  Hurt.

  Anger.

  Bruno’s harsh words break me from my reverie. “As you can see, my pride and joy of a son has decided to stop playing the silly charade of a reformed man. He’s gone back to being himself, a waste. Cathy, don’t expect him back. You should start looking for someone else to replace his position. Consider that picture his two-week notice, only that he won’t be back at all. I won’t allow it. Have a good day ladies.”

  Astonished, I observe Bruno’s abrupt departure. His angry strides long and purposeful.

  After he disappears, Amy snatches the newspaper away from me. Bringing it close to her face, she murmurs the headline, “Arsen Radcliff, a cokehead?”

  The words wrap a thin coat of fog around me, numbing me a little, numbing me a lot, but in the end…they numb me.

  Arsen.

  I won’t see him ever again.

  The thought causes my heart to skip a beat, contract…

  The thought makes me want to throw up.

  It’s been a week since I last saw him.

  Since I last heard from him.

  It happened last Thursday evening.

  Today is Thursday.

  Seven days have passed,

  And nothing is the same.

  Nothing ever is, though.

  Right. When I told Ben that Arsen had been fired, it was like blasting an ice-sculpture with a fire torch, watching it speedily melt in front of my eyes. His icy demeanor that began the night we left the bar and carried through the next day until Ben got home and I was able to impart the news, finally thawed. There was no more stiffness in the air.

  Life went back to normal.

  Back to the way it was before Arsen started working in the office.

  According to the article I’m currently reading, Arsen is back with Melissa Stewart. However, he was photographed on Sunday morning exiting the hotel where a very famous pop star is said to be staying. The magazine alludes to the fact that Arsen is two-timing Melissa, America’s next sweetheart, with this dark haired singer. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were. That’s Arsen in a nutshell.

  I’m numb as I stare at the picture for a while longer until the colors of the image begin to blur, blending together. My beating heart remains calm. It must mean that I don’t care, right? At least not anymore. It’s not even that I miss his flirting or his charisma. No, I miss my friend. I miss talking to him and laughing about everything and nothing at all.

  I miss him.

  Putting down my magazine on the kitchen counter, I look around the room from my seat. Everything looks so perfect and so neat. I wonder how many cracks lay hidden underneath all the shiny and expensive accessories. Probably many.

  Just like me.

  “Babe, can you pick up dinner tonight? I may be running late. Amy needs me to stay with her and go over some clients’ demands,” I say, trying to shake the gloom that settles over me every time I think about Arsen.

  Ben lifts his brown eyes from a folder filled with paperwork. “Sure, no problem.” He puts the folder down and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looks tired and stressed. The realization hits me that since Arsen came around, I seem to have stopped paying attention to Ben.

  I push all thoughts of Arsen out of my mind and focus on my beautiful husband sitting in front of me.

  “Cathy?” Ben asks.

  Trying to clear my thoughts, I shake my head. “Sorry, babe...what were you saying?”

  “The baby, babe. I’m just reminding you to make sure you have Monday off. We have our twelve week checkup.” Oh.

  My heart begins to race. “Oh, yes. Of course,” I say as I grab my bag and shove away the first things I see without a care whether I need them or not. “How could I forget? I’ve got to run.” I stand up, tripping on my own feet as the same old crippling fear makes me clumsy.

  Slowly, I make my way to my husband who is sitting across from me and bend down to kiss him on the cheek. I need to get out of here before I breakdown in front of him, and he sees how scared I am.

  “Wait, babe. What’s the matter?” He grabs the back of my neck to hold me in place as we stare at each other, his free hand caressing my cheek. If he’s doing this because he noticed something in my face, and he’s trying to distract me, make me forget, it’s not working.

  “Nothing. Truly, I’ve got to go.”

  I break free from his hold and make my way to the counter to put my plate and mug in the sink. My back is facing the room, so I don’t notice when Ben stands up and comes to stand behind me. With his large frame hovering over me, he grabs me by the hand, turns me around, and pulls me in for an embrace, kissing me on the lips. Just when I think he’s going to let go of me, he tips my chin up so that I’m looking into his eyes.

  “Cathy, it’s going to be okay. We’ve made it this far without any complications. Have some faith.”

  Nodding, I feel my eyes begin to fill with traitorous tears that let him know exactly how anxious
and frightened I am.

  “I have faith in you, Ben. T-That’s all.”

  He pinches his lips together. “No, Cathy. You can’t live your life that way. Have faith in life, in what’s in store for you, for the two of us. Whatever it is, no matter what, you’ve got me. But you have to learn to not be afraid, to trust life.” He lets go of me as his other hand sneaks between us, covering my barely there bump. “This is part of our future. And if it’s not…if it’s not in the cards for us, maybe it’s time we look into adoption one more time.”

  I’m about to protest, but Ben stops me.

  “I wouldn’t mind. It’ll be our baby no matter what. And, as long as you’re there with me, as long as we do it together. Don’t cry, my darling.” He wipes my tears away with his thumb. “Remember, I love you. No matter what.”

  “I love you too,” I murmur with an aching heart, guilt whipping me in the face. I have a wonderful husband who’s always been there for me and loves me like no other, while I’ve been pining to hear from an asshole.

  I’m done.

  Ben’s words are what I need to hear for me to shake off the numbing fog that has enveloped me in a thick cloak of yearning, not letting me breathe since he left.

  I’m free.

  I wrap my arms around his waist and stand on my tiptoes to kiss him on the lips.

  Gently...

  Lovingly...

  Softly...

  I show him what he means to me. I’m so lost in the moment that I’m taken by surprise when I feel his hand in between my legs, his fingers stroking and circling me slowly. I break the kiss as I hear Ben groan.

  “Seriously, Ben?”

  My husband winks at me. “You started it, wife. Now go before I change my mind and bring you back to our bedroom and show you how fucking serious am I,” he growls, bending down to bite my lower lip.

  As I watch his retreating figure, wiping some of the remaining tears away from my face, I can’t help smiling a little. I don’t want to think about the future because it scares me, but of one thing I’m sure.