by Nivia Borell
“No one will ever be able to discover my location or what I do, not even Alex. Promise me.”
“I promise you, Bria, but he will search for you.”
I interrupt him because I know what he has to say. “He will. Of course, he’ll search. I mean, he is as stubborn as you are. But I hope he will find love and happiness and forget about me.”
“My dear, then you don’t know him at all.” His raspy voice drops a level as to placate me with the wisdom I’ve yet to reach.
When my brother, Filip, arrives, my answer suspends. I feel his desire to hug me but instead kisses me on my left cheek, inappropriately clumsy since we are siblings. It’s odd because now we are two strangers, and it’s my fault. We used to have an amazing bond, but it broke like everything else a long time ago, and I don’t feel anything except remorse for everything that went wrong.
“Happy birthday, sis. You’re getting older,” he trills hoping to make me laugh.
It doesn’t work, though. Nothing does.
“Well, brother, good you’re the little one so you will always be younger,” I retort, pretending for an easiness that ceased to exist years ago. I feel like the worst person alive.
“And don’t forget, also the better-looking one with all the charm.”
I tilt my head to him as I twist my lips into something resembling a smile. “I wouldn’t dream of competing with you. I’ll always lose, Filip.” And then, as always, a nauseating silence follows because that’s all we’ve got except for work. I volunteer to talk more about business, nothing personal as with everyone else who works for me.
A sigh later, he adds, “Okay, then, I’ll go grab a drink. I wonder about your speech, though.”
Oh, yes, the epic speech.
I think it’s appropriate in this case, and maybe because I realize I won’t see him again, to give Filip something back, something to hold onto when I am gone. I clench him letting myself inhale the mix of citrus, mossy notes, and my brother. I’m saying I am sorry for not being able to be the sister he deserves and for not showing him how much I love him. He’s rock solid in my arms, perplexed because I haven’t done this in over seven years.
I hear him exhale, and the pain behind his words envelops me as he places a chaste kiss on my bowed head.
“I love you, Bria, with all my heart. My only regret is I can’t save you, and I have to live with knowing I have a sister who vanished before my eyes seven years ago. If I could just turn back time, sis.”
His rawness, peering vacant chestnut eyes, and his broken voice make me shudder, and I can’t utter a word. The knot in my throat threatens to strangle me. There’s only sadness and a wish which will always remain unfulfilled.
I cling to him as I say what I should have said a long time ago, “But that’s where you’re wrong. You did, Filip. You couldn’t save my heart, but you helped to save my life.”
I read shock in his now-expanded eyes because, in all this time, we’ve never talked about anything which was a reminder of the days that distorted everything.
“And I thank you. You are the best brother a girl could wish for. You’re whole, and that means the world to me, so please stop feeling guilty. You have nothing to be sorry for. I let you down, and I let Mom and Dad and everyone else down, too. I am the crippled one. Accept it and let the past and me go.”
“Bria, what are you talking about? We’re a family. This is what we’re bound to do… stick together, fight together, and love until you find it in you to accept being loved again.”
He squeezes my shoulders as I tilt my head to the side. This is why I can’t face it anymore because of the hope everyone keeps alive, waiting for a wonder which will never bloom, that one day I will wake up and be the old me. Every time they see me, they try so hard to find in my eyes a glimpse of the sister and daughter they’ve lost. That’s why I have to depart, to shatter their desire so they can let me go, accept it once and for all, and be free to focus on everything that has nothing to do with me being damaged goods.
“Filip…” I continue, “I wish you all the best and thank you for being the child Mom and Dad can love.”
“One child can never take the place of another one. Don’t be obtuse! When are you going to understand that?”
I hope he never loses the fire in him. So wise, my little brother. I’m very proud of him. I wish he and Damien will finally be the team they used to be before I destroyed everything, before my parents had to keep secrets from their best friends and partners regarding their broken daughter, and before my brother put a wall between him and his best friend. Torn between blaming him for my downfall, and then accusing me of betraying his best friend, he sided with me, his sister and thought our blood connection should be stronger than anything else. Step by step, they went from being best friends to nothing but work partners, another point stacked against me.
I look at my brother one more time so his classic, elegant appearance and angelic, ash-blond image will be implanted in my memory and stride away, directing my attention to the catering firm. It’s showtime.
“Miss du Mont, right?” a petite, young girl with warm brown eyes and a welcoming smile asks.
“That would be me.”
She’s refreshing as she tries to hide the nervousness behind her fidgety fingers she can’t seem to control and her trying to stay on her feet. Somehow, she gathers herself and looks me straight in the eyes with determination. I nod in acknowledgment.
“My name is Mia. I’m in charge of tonight’s catering, and I will make sure everything goes as expected this evening. At your service, Miss du Mont.”
“Thanks, Mia. I recognized you from the PowerPoint presentation for my party. Please call me Bria.”
Blood rushes to her cheeks. “What can I do for you, Bria?”
I haven’t had enough time to contemplate my surroundings until now, but satisfaction bursts from deep inside me with what I discover. The lights illuminate the large room leaving shadows in their way to ensure more privacy. Everywhere there’s walls of orchids, hundreds of them because they represent me. The perfect decoration for the most tragic events, they wear themselves with pride in the worst situations. The colors of my choice, black and violet, combined to grow the intensity, secrecy, and glamor—it’s what I requested. The ballroom has the perfect décor for concealing my choice of finality. It stands for perpetuation and intimacy, its classic elegance blending with the modern era.
“Well, Mia, you did a great job. I’ll tell Sarah how pleased I am with your service.”
Her eyes sparkle as she chirps, “Thank you so much, Bria. It means a lot.”
With a nod of my head, I rush off to greet every one of my guests. It’s overdue, and I knew what I was getting myself into so I can’t back away now. These people used to represent something to me. I used to care and enjoy their company, and what is there to pick up now? I plaster a wide smile until my cheeks strain and raise my eyebrows in delight pretending to care and listen as if I’m interested. No one ever peeks behind the mask. No one ever sees my wall and calls me a fraud. I wonder if everyone else is just indifferent or am I that good at pretending?
My tour of greetings and small talk ends, and I clasp my hand around my wrist as if to offer me strength or to ground me.
BRIA
Before I could dart to the private area, I spot my almost sister-in-law, Sophia, pushing herself off a chair, leaving her entourage at the table, her electric blue eyes boring into mine. A pang of something undefined strikes me. She strides toward me, and in this moment, I imagine what might have been when your best friend becomes your sister-in-law. There was a time when we were all together and happy. She’d always pretended to retch with the way Damien and I behaved and mocked throwing up over our “relationship,” what she also called our cliché fairy-tale love.
We are two families, du Mont and du Sky—Katherine and George du Mont having Filip and me, and Rebecca and Andrew du Sky and their children, Damien and Sophia. Our parents, the founders of M&S
, a global supermarket chain, started with one grocery store thirty years ago, and now there are 9,168 branches worldwide. Each of us has a role to carry out since our parents left us in charge.
Damien is the CEO, my brother, the former head of the sales and marketing division, is now the COO. Sophia is the head of human resources, and me, I’m the chief of strategic and operational management as I declined the CBDO—Chief Business Development Officer—role earlier this year.
What’s the point anyway as I won’t be around?
But it is ironic. I was in charge of establishing long-term and future developments for the company when I am the one lacking a future.
We were inseparable once, four kids playing in the company’s headquarters. From a young age, we became accustomed to the machinery called a retail company, starting with bringing coffees and sorting paperwork to making decisions that have to serve the greater goal of lasting over time. We were former best friends and family until a day when one stupid action led to a catastrophic consequence.
And, even though no one would ever dare point the finger at me, we all knew I was the source of the destruction. I broke Damien’s heart, and I let down my second set of parents and almost future in-laws. My best friend sided with her brother, and I could never hold it against her. We went from best friends to reluctant co-workers in the flick of a finger.
I am glad our parents are still best friends, and Filip and Sophia have kept their relationship intact—where one is, the other is not far. I guess their unity is their statement. Their answer to when chaos emerged and sank its ugly teeth into a blissful entity and severed it from whole to half. I expected Sophia to come tonight as we had to keep the illusion alive. I grind my teeth and acknowledge her nearness. Her scrutiny has always made me dizzy.
Our eyes clash in the middle, a battle of something I cannot define. She brushes my arm for a moment before taking it away as if I’ve set her fingers on fire. She excuses her gesture with a plea in her eyes. I pat her arm in response which makes me wonder why my attitude tonight is so out of character for me. I have trouble understanding if it’s surfaced from some conscious level or not. Her heart-shaped, full glossy lips arch into a smile that seeks to be wholehearted but somehow fails as her pearly teeth remain hidden.
“Happy birthday and all the best, Bria,” she says in a sweet tone. I admire her beauty and goodness to try. Sophia’s almond-shaped eyes, which are the lighter shade of fierce blue of her brother’s, kill me every time I see her because it’s impossible not to reminisce about everything. Years of my life are staring at me while I glance back, dumbfounded, at a porcelain facade.
They look so alike. It’s uncanny. If you roughen her features, Damien’s image would emerge—shiny, straight, and dark chocolate hair—hers darker and always touching the slim curves of her shoulders, perfect, soft, and paler skin, and everything about her is like the beauty of a fairy, light and mesmerizing.
“Thank you so much, Sophia, but I thought you were with our parents in South France.” Nice was where our parents shared a mansion and spent most of their holidays.
I was too afraid that maybe they would recognize my plans and try to stop me, so I waited until they left and then called them. I mentioned my upcoming birthday party as it seems a good occasion to celebrate when you lived for a quarter of century. Feeding on the lie of recovery, all four of them expressed their wish to be here for me to attend my special day.
I stopped their attempts to come back for the event by telling them it wasn’t worth the hassle. I made a false promise saying that next year my mother and Rebecca could organize the party they dreamed for me. My deceptive tactic worked, and they agreed, voices cracked.
My poor parents now looked at me in only one way—deep concern and always probing behind my actions and coldness. Once again, I smashed the glimpse of hope they kept behind their eyes that one day I will emerge from the depths of my brain.
“Well,” Sophia said. “I have to keep an eye on Filip and Damien, double work because Monica’s still in London.”
In an instant, Sophia’s eyes probe mine by what she had said, and I have one second to clench onto my mask because I could swear my incapacitated heart jolted with a stroke of pain that rendered me immobile. But I’m a pro. Long ago, I accepted I was the past, and Monica would be the future, the future of all my pasts. She would be Damien’s wife, sister-in-law to Sophia, and the second daughter of my almost in-laws. My cousin would have my life, and I feel nothing after the fleeting pain ends. I would have never thought she’d be the love of the man who held my heart, the one who always told me I was his forever in eternity. I swallow the sob right back to the depths of my ill heart where it belonged.
Now, he’s marrying my cousin, and although I accept the situation with my head held high, as well as the invitation to the wedding, I’m glad I’ll actually have the best motive for not going—vanished and maybe forgotten by the time Damien says his, “Yes, I do,” to another woman. To add a little more agony to the misery, he’s chosen my cousin. After all the women he’s paraded around throughout the years, he’s found love again in her arms. I can’t even imagine such a moment, for the idea tears at my heart again.
There’s a never-ending sorrow circle, and it seems I’m incapable of quitting when it comes to Damien. I ask myself how many times a broken heart can be shattered.
Will they postpone the wedding when the news reaches them?
No one, and I mean no one, deserves to see the love of their life marry someone else—no less a cousin, someone who’s family, the person who has insight to what we used to share. I swallow the lump rising in my throat. I have the best excuse not to attend the happy gathering, and I won’t have to see him say his vows and dreamily gaze at his bride, a bride that’s not me. A few months from now, they should thank me for not attending their wedding because no one wants a guest to drop dead on their special day, and I don’t need any more reasons for Damien to hate me. I think I’ve already given him enough to last two lifetimes.
BRIA
Nine years earlier…
When Damien and I were teenagers, we vowed we would always be together, the two of us, until the end of time. Once, I asked him how he envisioned our future together. It was summer, and we were kissing in a meadow overseeing Lake Zürich. It was our special spot, the place where we would build our house someday. It was the land where we dreamed, kissed, and loved each other with such passion and force we would fall asleep with the sun rays caressing our faces and the light breeze kissing our cheeks, as thick grass tickled our bare skin, each of us entangled in the arms of the other.
I was sixteen and Damien eighteen. He would hold me tight and whisper in my ear as if to tell me a story. He always began with saying my name in a husky voice. It was like he was singing it, praising my birth and what I meant to him.
“So, my love wants to hear me talking. Are you smitten with my voice, B?”
“You know I am, you arrogant fool.”
His whole body shakes with laughter, and the deep sounds echo in my belly.
“Well, what would you do for it since you want me to tell you a story?” He taunts me, his body propped on his elbow, his intense blue eyes boring into mine, and striking me so that every nerve ending of my body is on fire.
“Hmm… let me think for a moment,” I say, taking all the time in the world. I tap my bottom lip as my eyes seek answers in the cloudless and sunny sky. There was a moment in my life when time didn’t matter at all. In fact, once it was my best friend, but now time is counting every one of my breaths until the final one, the prize for its patience and the claim I have to pay for allowing me to walk on this earth.
I could feel how he fights the urge to bend me over and tickle me and devour my soul, and although he knows what my answer would be, he still wants to hear it. He needs me to offer him what he wants on my own volition. In a swift moment, being more than sure about my answer, I cup his face and look into his vivid eyes. “Anything you want.”
His long finger finds my face and traces a line from my cheek to my mouth, jaw, and neck until settling on my chest. His intensity scorches me, and I long for it even more.
“It’s always you I want, and it seems I can’t get enough. It’s frustrating as hell because it’s never enough with you, B.” I hear the vulnerability in his cracked voice about losing me or never discovering the deepest and furthest corner of my being as he carries me. I devour his lips, putting my whole soul into his sultry mouth, the nectar satiating my hungry being, reassuring him he would never be without me, and I would always be his. He never seemed to fathom, though, the depth of my love for him, but I instigated him in professing his love for me.
“Bria, you’re my past, my present, and my future. You’re my forever in eternity. I breathe for you. I dream about you. I ache when I’m not with you. Your sweet smell is in everything I breathe, your beautiful face is constantly in my vision, and my heart beats only for you. Since I can remember, I’ve known only you. You hold my person, my heart, and my soul. You own my life. My first image when I think of love is of you. My parents asked me what I see when I look at you, and my answer was, ‘Life. My life.’”
His words are a balm to my heart. How could I not love him endlessly and madly?
“And I will propose to you when you finish high school in two years because I can’t wait any longer. I am that selfish, and although I realize I have you, there’s this unexplainable and uncontrollable urge in me to possess you, to mark you, to brand you, and make you mine in every possible way. I will propose here where we are. I will fall on my knees and ask if you will make me the happiest man in the world by marrying me.”
My hearts soars with his declaration of love, and I pour my soul into Damien by kissing him the only way I knew—like a crazed girl in love. And then I giggle because we could never be serious for long as I poke him in the ribs with my finger.