by K. S. Adkins
My future was Dee.
I loved her.
Dee mattered. Not a slutty blogger.
I knew that now. It was crystal clear to me.
No, Dee didn’t say it back but to be fair, I sprung it on her while she was half asleep.
I needed to switch things up. Make more of an effort.
Hell.
Date her.
So the plan was to take her out tonight, share how I felt again and let her know there was no pressure, that we had time.
But before that happened, I had to let all things Dating Diva go.
For me, for us.
It was the right thing to do.
So when the door opened and I saw Dee walk in, I panicked.
I was busted.
Caught.
Guilty.
Fuck.
I'd have to lie to her.
I didn't want to lie to her.
Spotting me right away, her face lights up like it always does as she rushes over to see me.
God, she was gorgeous.
I was just about to delve into my lie when I saw it.
Taking her in from head to toe, I zero in on her tank top and frown.
Tupac.
Fucking Tupac.
“No.”
“Hi O,” she says with a sweet smile and still I couldn't deny how she stole my fucking breath.
“Fuck no,” I say while I feel my head and heart about to explode.
“I’m a few minutes early but I figured why—”
“Did you hack my phone?” It was the only logical option.
Looking amused she says, “No, what purpose would that serve? Pretty sure we're beyond that now don't you think?”
“The fuck,” I growl low. “How’d you know I’d be here, Dee?” Then I paused and let it play out. Dee. Diva. Pole dancing. The blogs. The messages to ME. Always defending her. She's a writer. Dee. Fucking Diva. She's known all along. “You’re Diva.”
“Yes,” she says confidently. “Diva is my name. I use Dee from time to time.”
“Or to play with me.”
“Stop, Oliver.”
“You hacked my phone, tell me you hacked my god damn phone, Dee. Because I hate Diva, fucking hate her. You know that!”
“No,” she says coming closer. “You don’t. You can't love me and hate her.”
A seething rage came over me and I went with it. I had no choice but to go with it. Leaning into her, I made it clear. “You’re right, I don't hate her. I hate you.”
“You're upset because I know the truth,” she says low. “You're into Diva. You're into me.” Fuck me, she was right. And the kicker here is that she knew she fucking was which makes me look stupid.
“You’re a god damn liar,” I roar and then pointing in her face I did it again so everyone could hear it. “You’re a con artist, a fucking scammer and you’re not like the rest of them. You’re worse. You're worse because you're fake.”
There were no tears in her eyes.
Nothing I said got a reaction.
No hysterics at the prospect of losing us.
In fact, she didn't look upset at all.
Disappointed, yes.
Upset, no.
Looking me straight in the eyes she says, “When the shock and anger wears off you're going to regret the cruel things you've said to me and about me, Oliver. But it will be too late,” she says smiling in victory. “Because I win. You were just a rookie trying to play with a professional.”
“Cruel?” I growl in her face. “You haven't begun to see cruel.”
“To quote Tupac, 'Don't believe everything you hear. Real eyes, Realize, Real lies.'“
“What in the fuck are you talking about?”
Shaking her head, once again in disappointment, she says, “Keep your head up, O.”
“Fuck off, Diva.”
Nodding once, she smirks, then turns away walking out the door she came in.
And, I didn't stop her.
But I did watch her go.
And where my world just fell apart, hers I knew, wasn't affected at all.
So she was right.
I was a rookie playing with a professional.
The movers dropped the rest of my belongings at the house this morning which meant my time here was officially up. Honestly? I was glad.
After dropping off my keys to the office manager I was leaving the condo and the memories behind me. Which granted, weren't many but still...
Me, the one who didn’t want to leave but now couldn’t bolt fast enough.
New house, new start.
I told myself that it was, but it wasn't.
It was an excuse.
And I allowed it.
Because blaming someone else for my dreams not coming true was easier than accepting my role in not pursuing them.
I was never supposed to settle. I was supposed to roam, experience this marvelous world and dream big.
And the fact that I hadn't done any of that was my own damn fault.
Oliver may have reacted horribly, but I expected it. In his shoes, I'm pretty sure I'd had done the same.
So even though it hurts, to see the way he really feels, to realize his hatred ran so deep that even loving me couldn't change it, I knew once the hurt passed, I'd probably thank him for doing what I should have done from the start.
Being strong enough to say no.
I was wrong for settling for a relationship that I only stayed in so I could make someone else suffer because I felt slighted.
Because as I said from the beginning, Oliver really was one of the good guys.
He was a forever guy.
He just wasn't my guy.
And that was okay.
Later that afternoon the electrician was already working on my panel when I arrived so, I grabbed some booze, went to my office and worked on finishing the setup of my work space.
Considering I was planning on being a shut in with a drinking problem for the next twenty years, I was trying to prepare accordingly.
Stella, seeing I was home, stopped by for a quick chat. She shared all the neighborhood gossip and asked if I was still seeing my man. When I told her I wasn’t, that things didn’t pan out, she suggested the lovely, sweet, gentle man next door.
How about hell no.
I had already sunken too low. I had become the very person I never wanted to be.
I knew from the beginning, Oliver and I stood no chance, but I just had to win.
I had to win, knowing I'd lose, which is so fucked up, I couldn't even make it sound right in my own head. So it was better this way.
Love and happy endings wasn't in the cards for me.
I was meant to be alone.
And alone was better than hurting people.
The day passed like dark days tend to do. Slowly.
I thought about Oliver, of course. He was taking up a lot of real estate in my head at the moment.
But I knew it was temporary. He would fade away, me and the booze would make sure of it.
Sufficiently buzzed, I caught myself asking the mirror why I wasn't enough.
I was more than enough, I knew this. I just hated feeling low like this.
I hated the doubt.
By eight o’clock I was three bottles of wine deep and did not want to think anymore.
Black out drunk trumped self-sabotage any day.
From miles away I heard voices. They were yelling in code. Weird.
This was not a sexy dream so turning over, I pulled the covers up over my head to ignore it.
Suddenly, I was hauled up in a fireman’s carry (literally) and rushed outside.
Jostled and unable to break free, I was set down and the blanket covering me was taken away.
Blinking rapidly and trying like hell to focus, it was when he took his helmet off and looked like I’d just killed his dog that brought me to full attention.
“You fucking live here,” Oliver, of all people, accuses.
I tried repl
ying but started coughing instead. I coughed so hard I keeled over and my eyes started to water. “Move,” someone says getting in my space. “She’s got smoke inhalation,” the man announces and I wanted to kiss him for cluing me in. Smoke inhalation meant fire.
Fuck, my house is on fire!
“Oxygen and water, check for burns.” the man orders.
Shaking my head no, that I wasn’t burnt, Oliver got right back in my face at the same time Stella joined the fun. “Oh dear! Are you okay?”
Nodding because I had an oxygen mask over my face she looks up at him, then to me and says, “It looks like you met him after all.”
At my confused look she explains, “He’s your neighbor, the one I was telling you about. You said yourself you’re single now, this is the perfect opportunity! He just saved your life!”
“Shoulda let her die,” he says staring straight at me and despite smoke in my lungs, I started crying. Hard.
Because there was mean and then there was this.
Turning my head away, I tuned them out while Stella reamed him on manners. Then, like the hounds of hell were on my heels, I shed the blanket and ran back toward the house. Just before reaching the steps, I was tagged around the waist and taken to the ground.
“Are you trying to kill yourself!” he yells directly in my ear.
“My—My computer,” I wheeze pitifully.
“Get another one!”
“My—My life.”
“You and your fucking blog,” he says pushing away from me which landed me flat on my ass. Stunned, hurt and in shock I didn’t bother explaining the blog wasn’t my life. I could log on and work on it from any computer. My actual life was backed up on those computers from second grade on. Every photo, award and memory was currently burning inside the house I never wanted.
My hopes and dreams were on those computers.
My good memories. My true self.
Before I turned into this.
Hanging my head, I push up gingerly from the grass ignoring the orders around me to stop. When they sent someone after me, I cut the corner and took off running. One hour, thirty-three minutes and six-seconds later, I was punching in the code to the main office. Three minutes after that, I fell into a chair and when I looked down I realized I was in my 'thug life' tank top, boxer shorts and wasn't wearing shoes.
“Electrical fire,” Graham informs me two days later. “Are you listening to me? She can sue this guy, Oliver. No one can reach her to tell her.”
“Don’t care.” And, I really fucking didn't.
“Then I’ll let the cops know to hold her computers, phone, and purse until she comes to retrieve them.”
“None of that burned?”
“Oddly enough, no. Fire never got that far.”
“Too bad.”
“You’re a real dick,” he says as he's leaving the room.
I was a dick. But I also went over to the precinct where her items were held and got them out. Because of her, my life fell apart. I’ll be damned if she was getting a single piece of hers back in tact. Especially her cherished fucking computers.
I wasn’t out of my truck before Stella barged over and slapped me across the face screaming, “Shame on you.”
“Excuse me?” I blink in confusion.
“I never thought you would treat a woman like that. Especially in her time of need!”
“You don’t know the story, Stella.”
“Well, I’m waiting,” she says on a huff.
So I told her.
When I was done she looked ready to hit me again. “I lost my husband nineteen years ago. Met him late in life and fell in love for the first time, the only time. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him. I’d do it all over again to have had him at all. Dee looked beyond your hate of Diva because she saw something in you, Oliver. I imagine she was scared to tell you with knowing how you felt but she was brave enough to do it. Seems to me you were tested and you failed.”
“She lied, Stella.”
“We all lie, Oliver. But in this case she lied to protect herself because what choice did she have? You judged a stranger who turned out to be the women you love. Tell me, if the roles were reversed would you have done the same?”
When I didn’t answer she asked me, “Does she even have a place to live?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you have one,” she chimes in.
“Stella…”
“Fate only knocks so many times, Oliver. You need to let her in.”
And then she left and I unloaded the truck.
Setting up in my kitchen, I opened her laptop first. With no password to protect it, I clicked on the first Dating Diva file. Since I’d read everything she’s published I went to the blogs she hadn’t. Her 'works in progress'.
Only they weren't blogs.
They were her private thoughts. Starting from her early teen years well into adulthood. Her dreams of travel and adventure. I read about how awful it was losing her virginity to being told she was fat and how hard she took losing her first boyfriend, Colin. A boy who loved her that she wished she could love back. Yeah, I could relate.
College for Diva was a series of emotional ups and downs. Figuring out who she was, what her sexuality was all about and how she wished for someone to love her as is.
On and on they went and I saw Dee grow from a girl into a woman. These were the pieces of herself she kept private. I read how the O Face originated and wanted to kill the guys who hurt her. Who made her doubt herself. I read it all and I couldn’t deny she didn’t hook up as much as I thought she did. Based on these posts, it was still less than me.
She had sex, yes. But she never invested her heart. She was saving it for someone.
The written evidence proves she’d been saving it for me.
No matter how deeply I scanned her computers, I found no mention of our time together.
And the biggest shock of all was my disappointment in not finding my name among the others.
No honorable mention, nothing.
The irony was not lost on me.
Because I wasn't like the others. I wasn't temporary.
God, I had been so fucking wrong about her.
Leaning back in my chair, I scrub a hand down my face wishing I could go back and do it all over again. Having seen her with fresh eyes, I realize that what I've done may not be forgivable.
Don't believe everything you hear. Real eyes, Realize, Real lies.
Now that my eyes were open to all of the ways she tried to show me who she was, I was so ashamed of myself, that I cried.
Because, I missed her. All of her.
I knew in my gut that I was too late.
That what I had done was beyond cruel, closed minded and unfair.
But god dammit, I still loved her.
I still had to try.
And I prayed that once more, she'd say yes.
The damage caused by the electrical fire was minimal or so says the insurance company. They cut a check, crews came out and the job was almost finished. I hadn’t wanted to go back but because I wanted to dump the place, I had no choice.
The realtor wanted to meet to measure, photograph, and sign the paperwork all in one shot.
It made sense but it still sucked.
I hated even being here. I wanted to sign the papers and sell it as quickly as possible.
And I wanted to do it from Cuba.
The only thing keeping me from a meltdown was assuming Oliver kept the same hours.
This meant I wouldn’t see him which was a bonus.
See, the fire caused more than damage to the house. While getting another phone, driver’s license, and credits cards was a pain in the ass, it didn't come close to the pain I felt losing the memories I worked so hard to preserve.
So yeah, not seeing him was the only positive part of my fucked up life.
You know, until I pulled up and he was waiting in the god damn driveway.
“Dee,” he rushes over. “F
uck, I mean Diva.” And let me assure you he had a seriously difficult time speaking my given name aloud.
“Not a good time,” I tell him grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
“Can we talk?”
Just then my realtor showed up and I simply told him, “No.”
“Who’s she?”
“My realtor. Later, Oliver.”
Then I met her on the porch and showed her inside. Leaving her to do whatever real estate people did, I signed where she said to sign, gave her a key and shook her hand. I was going to lose my ass on the sale so sticking around to chat wasn't going to work for me.
This was business. Business I wanted over with.
Showing her out, she wasn’t in her car before he came back and got in my space.
“Do you have someplace to stay?”
“I’m staying with a friend,” I lie. I didn't have friends. I was staying in a hotel.
“Look, I—”
“I’m going to make this easy for you. We were a mistake. I thought you were someone you clearly weren’t and I was stupid to think you could ever get over your blind hatred of me. But you know what? You blamed Diva for your problems and we both know it’s bullshit. It's an excuse.”
“I know that now, I just—”
“Shut up, Oliver!” I screech loudly. “I don’t care what you think or what you know, alright? I tried giving you me. You threw it in my face. Jesus, the blog and the column are a part of me. A really fucking good part. I’m not a whore. I don’t use men. I tried to get you to see that but you refused. I’m selling the house and moving as far away from this place as I can. The biggest bonus to that, that I can see is never speaking to you again.”
“You’re serious,” he whispers in pain. Well, fuck his pain.
“About never seeing you again? Absolutely.”
“Then why do you look ready to cry?”
Pushing him out of my way, I get in my car and slam the door.