Where the Stars Fall

by Ana Simons

  “Why do you keep on asking what we’re thinking? Men like it quiet, we can actually be still and think about absolutely nothing!”

  “Well, but we can’t. We have this board in our heads where we keep pinning mental post-it notes with different reminders, ideas and things we need to do later. Besides, remember we aren’t mind readers; if we ask you that, it’s because we care, we want to know about your feelings, we’re encouraging you to talk.”

  I nod, pretending to be serious. “And I feel sometimes you put too much pressure on us. You set your expectations sky-high, almost as if you wanted us to change into one of those characters you watch in your sappy films. That’s tough.”

  Smothering a laugh, she lifts one eyebrow defiantly. “Hey, what’s wrong with sappy films?”

  I pull her so she’s standing right between my legs and hold her by the waist. “Nothing. I really love them, especially all those happy endings.”

  I do. We have pretty much missed all endings of the films we’ve been trying to watch. We start out cuddling and way before they run the final credits, things have already escalated, and we’re lost in each other’s very, very happy endings.

  The silly banter continues.

  “But do tell me, what’s the big deal about all those chick flicks?”

  She shrugs, looking at me with a devilish grin spread across her face. After that, she bites her lip and leans towards me to say, “They’re a lot of fun. Because if we were in a novel or in one of those films, you’d already be doing me on this counter, and we’d be contorting our bodies to positions that aren’t even possible. What’s not to like in that picture?”

  My heart lurches the instant I pick up on the subtext. Not wanting to wait for another second, I pull her to me and cover her mouth with mine.

  But she pushes me back gently, teasing me with a mirthful smile. “Besides, we love those films because we’re all secretly in love with at least one of the Hemsworth brothers. Sorry, babe, but there’s nothing we can do about it, except surrender ourselves to those charming smiles and out-of-this-world abs.” She breathes out a small giggle. “And the sooner you learn to accept that, the better. I’m sure you’ll agonise a lot less.”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  She chuckles.

  Feigning a serious tone, “I wasn’t laughing, and I have no idea who those guys are either. That’s not the sort of competition we men particularly appreciate.”

  The blood begins to pound wildly in my veins when I fix my eyes on her mouth again, and hold her a little tighter, pressing her against my hard body. I take in her breath as I let my tongue trace her bottom lip, and her scent as I travel down her neck and her collarbone. They’re already embedded in my brain and I want them there for the rest of my life.

  I feel her body arching towards mine and then, without warning, she grips my hair and crushes her lips to mine with intense urgency. It’s hot as hell and I kiss her back, hard, my tongue entering her mouth to entwine with hers, to claim her as mine.

  Her fingers move to my shirt, tug at the bottom of it and in a swift movement she yanks it up. She splays her hands across my chest, caresses it, and rests her lips on it.

  My heart kicks hard, and my pulse thrums frantically in my ears as my body gives in to each stroke of her tongue. It’s maddening.

  I take her mouth again in a hungry kiss, waves of lust stirring inside me into a wild fever as she moans softly into my mouth, our breaths so desperate that the world could cease to be, it wouldn’t matter. This fierce craving has already overtaken us completely.

  I get up and envelope her in my arms. My fingers waltz up and down her back, then slide down her body to tug at the hem of her dress and find their way underneath to caress her thighs.

  “You don’t look very comfortable in this dress…” I whisper, my voice thick.

  But her eyes leap open. “I look fat in it?”

  “I just want to see you. Naked. Fully naked.”

  “Ah! Speaking of which, where’s my backpack?” Her eyes dart around the room. “I got you something at the airport.”

  I tighten my grip, not letting her go. “Look at me. Do I look like I want to receive a present right now?”

  She undrapes her arms from around my neck and gives me a naughty wink. “Oh, this one, you do!”

  “Unless it’s something I’ll want to tear off with my teeth, no, I don’t!”

  Her smile is full of malice. “Hey, all good things come to those who wait!”

  *

  “Oh, shit! We left it in the car. Behind the driver’s seat. I have to go there now,” she concludes after a couple of minutes of furious searching.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Brian, my computer is in there, with my whole life, with important stuff from work! That’s easy bait for burglars. Do you want someone to smash a window and rob your car?”

  I hold back a frustrated sigh. She’s right.

  “I thought so.”

  “Okay, I’ll go get it,” I tell her.

  She gets to the car key on the console table first. “You’re half-naked, I’ll go! It only takes a minute. You can watch me through the balcony window.”

  One minute later she’s giving me the okay sign, closing back the car door.

  All good.

  While she’s on her way up, I go to the bathroom to quickly wash my face and brush my teeth. And spray on a bit of her favourite cologne. That should give her enough time to get whatever she’s got there for me out of the bag and prepare her little surprise.

  I’m kind of excited now.

  What could it possibly be?

  *

  “Love? Where are you?”

  It’s been what? More than ten minutes, surely?

  As no answer comes from the living-room, I leave our bed and check what’s taking her so long. Maybe it’s that long prep thing that requires time and I must get used to. Jesus, the anticipation is killing me.

  “Sweetheart?” I keep calling as I pace the hallway.

  She doesn’t respond, but I can hear her movements.

  When I finally find her, I can barely believe my eyes. The image I see knocks me off balance, it’s like a jolt throwing me back to a dark place I didn’t see myself entering again.

  Looking vacantly through the window and with tears streaming down her face, her fingers tremble as she fidgets with the scarf wrapped around her neck.

  Still unable to react, I watch her in silence for a few beats and then let my eyes shift to the side. Her backpack is already draped on the trolley suitcase handle next to the doorway. I’m utterly confused.

  This can’t be happening. She’s leaving?

  “Olivia, what is this?”

  31 NO, YOU DON’T…

  “I HATE YOU!”

  “And you’ve figured that out when? In the lift, between the second and third floors? Have you gone mad?” I ask her as I nervously unwind her scarf and throw it on the sofa.

  Olivia snatches it back up. “Damn you, Brian! How could you do this to me?”

  “Sweetheart, talk to me. What happened? Why are you crying? Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m so done with all this, I’m so stupid! I don’t know why I thought it’d be different this time.” She raises her hand to her mouth as if to suppress a cry.

  I grab her wrists and pull them to my chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re hurting me!” She tries to free herself.

  I let her go immediately and hold her head between my hands. “Olivia. Please. Don’t do it again, don’t leave me hanging.”

  She heads towards the door, but I block her, a feeling of absolute anguish taking hold of me.

  “No, you go nowhere! You’re going to talk to me and tell me exactly why we were having such a great time just a little while ago and now… What have I done to cause all this, what did I do?”

  She studies me for a moment, a sheen of tears sparkling in her eyes. “Again, who’s a woman
named Josephine?”

  God, no.

  My head falls back against the door and I take a deep breath to let it sink in and carefully consider my words.

  I let my eyelids flutter shut. There’s a tumult of regret and pain coursing through me right now and I don’t quite know how to deal with it. The thought of losing her is just too disturbing, it almost suffocates me, my lungs are burning, and I can’t breathe.

  I take her hand, linking our fingers, my eyes never leaving hers. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Olivia.”

  “Brian, do you know how many times I’ve heard that stupid line before?” There’s hurt mixed with profound disappointment in her eyes. “How can you be fooling the two of us and not feel bad about it? You’re all the same, aren’t you?”

  “No, we’re not all the same! And you should leave the past where it belongs – in the past. I’m not that ex-boyfriend of yours and I’m certainly not playing games with anyone. The only mistake I’ve made here was not telling you that she was someone I... I used to hang out and have a few drinks with.” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to raise her eyes to mine. “Before we met again. I freaked out, I don’t know. But I regretted it immediately. I’m sorry.”

  “A few drinks? You’ve got such a nerve!” Shaking her head, she gives me a scornful glare. “You’ve been seeing her for months now, since my granddad’s funeral. She said you two met on that flight to New York.” She hesitates a moment and then blurts out, “It’s disgusting, really. I hate you!”

  I hold her hand. “No, you don’t. And what the hell happened downstairs?”

  She brushes mine off. “Let me go now.”

  “Please. You’re not being reasonable.”

  A sad, hollow laugh escapes her lips. “Well if you run you may still catch her. And maybe she’s more understanding and reasonable than I am and doesn’t mind taking you back. Because I don’t know if I–”

  “I can’t believe that lunatic had the nerve to come here again.” I run my hands through my hair, incredulous.

  “She almost ran me over, for Christ’s sake! She yelled at me like a crazy psycho, wanting to know if I’m the bitch her man’s been shagging!” Olivia presses her hand to her mouth, trying to stop herself from crying. “You know what else she said? That I could have you but shouldn’t set my hopes too high. I’m just your new toy and you’ll get tired of me really soon.” Olivia swipes tears from her cheeks. “You’ve been cheating on her? And I’m the other? God, imagine that!”

  “Liv, listen to me.” I grab her by the arm, but she struggles.

  “Look at me, goddammit!” I raise my voice and pin her under my gaze. “Did you see me with anyone else at Jimmy’s wedding? Who spent that night with me? Who did I run after one week later? Who do I take home to be with my family? Who am I making plans to spend Christmas with? Who do you think is on my mind every waking minute of the day? Who do you think I’d choose over everything in life?

  “The answer is always the same. You! I’d choose you in a heartbeat, and it hurts that you don’t trust me, that you don’t believe me when I tell you I have absolutely nothing with that woman. Never had. It’s not my fault she’s having some problems accepting that.”

  “Maybe because you broke her heart very badly?”

  “What?” I throw my arms in the air, desperate. “We were just friends, I never promised her anything.”

  “Sure. It’s just biologically ingrained in you, to bonk around, but never take responsibility, right? After all, you’re a guy and we should understand it’s in your nature.” Her words are tinged with forced irony.

  “Do you even listen to anything I say? I never slept with her, you have to believe me! God, woman, you’re so exasperating sometimes!”

  “Don’t call me woman!”

  “And no! Not every guy is like that. And you’re the only woman I want to be with.”

  “Damn you, Brian! Even if she’s crazy or hallucinating, that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. You told me she was someone from work! Why would you do that?”

  “I did, and that was stupid. I apologise… Her behaviour was completely out of line, I’m sorry. Tomorrow I will talk to her; I need to make sure this won’t happen again.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, just let me go now.”

  “Olivia. Please.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t be with you right now.”

  “Hold on just a second, I’ll be right back.”

  I rush back inside, resolutely put on my shirt and get my jacket. Then I return to the doorway, to find her wiping her teary, bloodshot eyes, looking so frightened and vulnerable. I grab the car keys and come closer, to rest my eyes on her and stroke her face. One last time.

  “It’s too late for you to be out there, please don’t go. Stay here, think about what I’ve just told you and do whatever you feel is the right thing in the morning. I’ll go. I’ll be at my parents’ if you need me.”

  I leave and the moment I cross the threshold and the door closes behind me, it feels like someone has ripped my heart straight out of my chest and tore it to shreds.

  I could scream at the hurt, which is so overwhelming, much greater and more painful than anything I’ve ever felt before. It burns immensely, and I almost hate her for hurting me this much. Or maybe I hate myself for loving her this way.

  THREE WEEKS LATER…

  32 THE HURT INSIDE

  “OH BOY, YOU’RE so getting on my nerves,” my sister yells over the phone. “Listen to me, you either fight for her or you stop drowning your sorrows in loneliness! And stop keeping us all out! The kids miss you. Even I miss you. And mum needs you now and you well know Dad shouldn’t be watching this. So do something about it, for crying out loud!”

  “This is really a bad time. I’ll call you–”

  “Don’t you dare! You’ve been rejecting all my calls for days, so now you shut up and listen! Stop bottling up and holding it in like it doesn’t hurt! Throwing yourself into work and shutting yourself in at home is not going to make things better. So tomorrow, we’re having our Sunday family brunch and you’re not going to stay in bed again. The moping and wallowing is over! Are we clear?”

  “Sue, I’m in the middle of Holland Park. Can’t we discuss this later?”

  “If you don’t move your arse and show up tomorrow, I’ll go and drag you there myself, you hear me? I’m a bundle of nerves as it is, so you don’t want to mess with me!” she blurts out and then hangs up. Just like that.

  Two seconds later it rings again.

  “It’s her birthday today. Call her, you stubborn arse.”

  “I can’t. Besides, why would I want to hear again how much she hates me, huh?”

  “Well, if she doesn’t love you, who cares if she says she hates you? Then you’d just have another good reason to stop giving a shit! Now go. See you tomorrow.”

  After pulling my hood over my head and tucking the earbuds back into my ears, I close my eyes and take a long deep breath.

  My throat feels tight as the sharp, cold morning air enters my body and swirls around in the empty pit I have in my chest. My lungs burn. It’s almost as painful as the jolt of pain I feel inside every time I ask myself if I’m worth anything at all. Why doesn’t she miss what we had? The laughs, the comfort, the nearness. The plans we made, the promises we said we would keep. My hands running through her hair, brushing her lips, skimming over her body...

  Trying to chase away the brutal truth – hurt hasn’t worn away and it sucks terribly – I turn up the music loud, loud enough to smother my thoughts and the memories.

  Then I take a few long steps. The initially slow, rhythmic pace easily shifts into quicker strides and I start running, faster and faster, as fast as my heart can bear, faster than I imagined I could. My heart threatens to burst out of my chest and my legs burn, but the more they burn, the more I run, ignoring the pain, pushing through it. Until it all stops hurting.

  *

  On my way home, I stare at the em
pty new-text box, wondering what to write.

  ‘I hope you have a wonderful day. Happy Birthday’?

  ‘Thinking of you on your birthday and wishing you a beautiful day’?

  What the fuck are you doing?

  ‘Wishing you a day that is as special as you are’?

  Yes, that last one was just brilliant!

  You shouldn’t write anything at all. Maybe you shouldn’t even give a toss about her in the first place, you idiot!

  An incoming call from Jake comes in the middle of my dilemma, solving it immediately. I quickly conclude I’d better give up on the idea, it was stupid anyway, and swipe my finger across the screen.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Mate! How’re you doing?”

  “Okay. You?”

  “Listen, tonight they’re opening this new club in Soho and I was thinking that–”

  “No, thanks. Staying home, I’ve got work to do.”

  “Don’t talk rubbish and focus. Listen to me, we’re hitting that club tonight. We’ll have a couple drinks to loosen up and then, with all those strobe lights flashing, they’ll all look like Megan Fox and–”

  “Nope.”

  No. I’m not in the mood for random hook-ups, regrettable sex and cheap orgasms. Maybe some other day. But not today.

  He snorts. “Hi there. My name is Brian Anderson and I haven’t had a shag for over a month now,” he says in a ridiculously stupid voice and then laughs. “Who’s going to give you a chip for that accomplishment, you moron? Mate, you urgently need to get sloshed and shag the first chick that smiles at you. Do that and order shall be restored!

  And you’re a wanker and it’d be nice if you could go more than fifteen seconds without thoroughly pissing me off!

  “Got to go, Jake. See you on Monday.”

  “Hey! I can send you a couple of links with some top porn too.”

  Oh, sod off.

  “Bye, Jake.”

  *

  “What’s wrong with you, people?” I ask Linda, later in the evening, as I take a flower vase from a high shelf of the cupboard and pass it to her. “Suddenly everyone wants to drag me out of my house. I’m fine!”