Seeking Nirvana

by V. L. Brock

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “What do you want me to sing for you?”

  Faintly rolling my head across the pillow, I sighed. “Something soft…” His fingers had slowly progressed to the palm of my hand, issuing gentle circular motions on the sensitive flesh. “Something gentle and calming.”

  “I got one. You okay with an Irish folk song?”

  I’ll be okay with anything as long as it’s you which gives it to me. “Yes.”

  Sucking a breath, he traced my hairline and began:

  “Just give me your hand,

  Just give me your hand,

  And I’ll walk with you,

  Through the streets of our land.

  If you give me your hand,

  Just give me your hand,

  And come along with me.

  By day and night,

  Through all struggle and strife,

  And beside you, to guide you,

  Forever my love.

  For love’s not for one,

  But for both of us to share,

  For our country so fair,

  For our world and what’s there.”

  “That was beautiful,” I said sleepily once he had finished.

  “Yeah,” he dashed his tongue across his lips. “It was.”

  I was on the cusp of slumber, nevertheless I detected the smooth, rhythmic brushes of my hairline had ceased; his warmth was no longer present. The mattress bounced as he drew his body closer, his arm coiled around my waist, his hand pressed firmly the center of my back.

  With my brow touching his, his breath on my face, and our hands locked as one between our bodies, I drifted into a peaceful sleep, while the tenderness behind that of his song spiraled around my head. In that moment, the guilt which I’d normally feel while contemplating mine and Liam’s relationship was nonexistent, and I felt thoroughly content with my hand resting in the warmth of Walker’s.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I awoke the following morning to the birds’ song and an empty bed. I was lying on top of the covers, and as I stretched out my aching limbs, my hand grazed across a sheet of paper that was left on my pillow.

  Clawing my way into a seated position, I drew my legs into my body, rubbed the remnants of sleep from my sore, tired eyes, and took hold of the rustling paper.

  Morning, darlin’, I’m sorry I left before you woke. I had to go to work, and you looked so peaceful.

  There’s coffee in the pot ready for you. I know you can’t function without it, and even though I find the visual of a sleepy you putting the keys in the refrigerator, or burning your toast, I don’t particularly want you getting hurt.

  I meant what I said about you looking so peaceful, so, don’t hit me, but you may want to reconnect the phone. I didn’t want a certain person waking you up in a panic, so I um…I took the phone off the hook, but all with good intention.

  Don’t forget that tonight, you, Kady Jenson, turn diva at McGinty’s––nope, you are not backing out. Don’t worry about loss of hearing, I have given everyone the heads up, they’ll either bring ear plugs or turn their hearing-aids down.

  I’ll see you later, darlin’. I’ll pick you up at 6pm.

  Walker.

  P.S. Wounds turn into scars, and scars tell a story, they make you tough. You have NOTHING to be ashamed of.

  I smiled down at the letter in my hand, shaking my head before giggling to myself.

  Walker, Walker, Walker…you’re in a league of your own.

  I discarded my robe and negligée, tossing it onto the bed, as I stumbled sleepily to the bathroom for a morning shower before breakfast.

  I was in and out within fifteen minutes. It would have been sooner, but each time I told myself that it was time to get out, that searing stream kept whispering that I was to stay under its heat, and evade whatever events would transpire that day.

  It was a very tempting offer.

  Immediately after hastily drying my body and hair, I was standing in the walk-in-closet browsing the rails, desperate to cover up my shivering naked form. Although, I have no idea why I wasted those precious minutes of my life, when everything that hung from the bar, or folded in the dresser, was all the same just in a different color. In the end, I decided to go with a black fitted, long-sleeved blouse, tucked into a dark pair of boot-cut jeans. As I stepped into them and peeled the denim up my legs, I couldn’t help but examine the tender, round and oval scars on my thighs, which had turned from easily ignorable silver markings, into ugly red ones, presumably from the heat of the shower. Like they would have disappeared over night?

  I hated the fact I was blemished. I always took care of myself, I always wanted to be flawless, and I had to be, what with being a stripper. That was where my profound level of confidence derived from.

  ‘Wounds turn into scars, and scars tell a story, they make you tough. You have NOTHING to be ashamed of’. I wouldn’t mind so much, if I could remember the fucking story that they told.

  Getting irked wasn’t going to do anybody any favors. So kicking some sense into myself, I pulled my jeans up, tucked the tails of my blouse inside the waistband and examined my reflection closely. At least the ensemble emphasized my long legs, the slight curve of my waist and my chest.

  Down the stairs I trampled, making my way to the kitchen while placing the phones back on their hooks as I went by. I cannot believe he actually took them off. Damn you Walker, making more chores for me before indulging in my morning caffeine fixation.

  Still, I couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Not when he stayed with me and sang me to sleep last night. Generously filling up my mug, I shook my head with an endearing grin. He really was sweet.

  With my ass firmly placed on the stool, I sipped the steaming contents in my mug, and dug through my purse to find my cell.

  The instant I switched it on, it began to dance in my palm, informing me of a received text message. It was from Liv:

  Hey chick, hope you’re coping without me. My mom’s been taken to the hospital. They have her on an IV. There’s nothing much any of us can do. I may get back home late tonight of tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know. We can go for a drink. Love you. Xxx

  Dammit. That is why I should keep my cell on me at all times.

  I typed back:

  So sorry for the late reply, I’m glad she’s getting the care she needs. Doing well, have Walker helping me out. He’s been an Irish angel in your absence, LOL. Send your mom mine and Liam’s love, and let me know when you’re back. Mwah xxx

  Before I finished guzzling the last of my coffee, the handset juddered again. It was Liv:

  Will do. Hope Walker is treating you well, tell him I said hi. Can’t text back, got to turn my cell off, people are giving me evils. Chat soon. Xxx

  The handset fell from my hand, landing with a din on the wooden surface while I shoved myself away from the stool and the island. I was rinsing my cup and sticking it in the washer when I remembered about Mrs. She Devil next door and her Tupperware bowl full of chicken casserole which has been left to stagnate in my fridge for nearly two whole days.

  Fuck.

  Oh, well. The devil makes jobs for idle hands. With that, I retrieved the cold container from the second shelf, tossed the thick, dark contents into the bin with a scowl, scrubbed out the bowl, and headed around to next door with the sound of my own slippers scuffling behind me.

  One careful step at a time, I took to my front steps, turning left at the sidewalk.

  I concentrated a little more than necessary about what I was going to say to her, after the less than compromising display she witnessed last night, through no fault of my own. She shouldn’t have been snooping, and she shouldn’t have automatically come to her own conclusion.

  Fucking Hell, I was giving myself a bigger headache than what I had in the hospital.

  Looking up at her chocolate colored detached house, I drew in a deep, steadying breath, and made my way to her porch. Pressing the bell, I carried out a subtle, nonchalant perusa
l while I waited, rocking back and forth on my heels. I noticed movement in the window, as the drapes were pulled back a fraction. God, she snoops on her own callers.

  Pulled from my musing, the door opened. With a stern face, she crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Kady,” she glared, puckering her lips.

  “Morning Mrs. Steinbeck, I’m sorry to come over so early.” Early? It was nearly 10:30 a.m.; even I wouldn’t typically class that as early. “I wanted to return your Tupperware.” I handed her the container. Not even her beloved Tupperware was going to crack that stern expression.

  “Thank you. And good day.” She stepped away from the entrance and began to close the door when I pressed my hand against the surface, halting her intention.

  Damn, if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.

  “Mrs. Steinbeck, I wanted to explain about what you thought you saw last night.” Although I was polite, I was deadly cautious.

  “Kady, I’m not stupid. I know what I saw, and to be honest, I never thought that you would be that type of woman. Mr. DeLaney is a lovely, lovely man, who doesn’t deserve to be treated in that way.”

  I raised my hands to my middle, palms facing forward, the universal langue of, ‘hang the fuck on’. “Mrs. Steinbeck, with all due respect, do you have any idea what it’s like to look in a mirror, and find that your body is completely different from the last time you saw it.”

  She squared her shoulders, holding her head high with a conceited air.

  “That scar,”––I pointed to the left of her forehead, which earned me the reaction of her raising her hand to stroke the silver stripe––“Do you know how you got it? I’m not asking you how, just…do you remember?” my pale blue eyes tightened.

  “Why, of course I do.”

  “Okay, and that’s good, but can you even for a second comprehend what it’s like to find something like that on your body, something which mars you, and have no recollection of how, why, when…”

  She rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to speak; she was halted as I resumed my speech.

  “He was helping me, because with the situation as it stands at the moment, the pressure put on me and Liam is immeasurable. I shouldn’t need to tell you any of my business, Mrs. Steinbeck, but I hope that woman to woman, you could try to understand it.”

  Her chest puffed out as she inhaled deeply, sighing just as loudly through her nostrils. “Kady,” she said with pursed lips.

  “Did you call him?” I interjected.

  She looked somewhat outraged when she sneered, “What do you think, Kady?”

  My focus landed on my purple painted toes nails sticking from my open toed cream slippers. I nodded my head and rolled my lips over my teeth for a beat. “Okay,” I said simply after popping my lips, while turning away in a daze. I came to the end of her path when I turned around to face her once again. “In future, Mrs. Steinbeck, instead of sticking this”––I pointed to my straight, narrow nose––“into other people’s business, and coming up with your own conclusions, why not just ask? It’s a much more decent approach than recess banter.”

  “Well, I never…”

  “No, you do…and quite often, I assure you. And that’s what lands people in trouble.”

  I rested my back against the front door after slamming it shut, hoping to free a little of my built up frustration.

  My breathing was uneven and trembling, while the ugly, heated emotion of acute anxiety fisted in my gut, and was slowly traveling into my chest and throat, obstructing my windpipe and my heart, forcing me to deter away from gathering much needed oxygen. My vision throbbed was distorting while my ears rang mercilessly.

  How could she think that it’s acceptable to do something like that? Liam’s going to be having fucking kittens. God, he’s going to go down for murder when he gets home. I know it. I just know it.

  Hands shaking, chest tightening, stomach flipping and contorting, it felt like some sneaky bastard kicked me at the back of my knees, causing me to slip down the polished barrier behind me, into a jumbled heap of nerve-wrecked angst on the cold, hardwood flooring in the passageway.

  The guilty conscience that lay in wait surfaced with a vengeance, making me feel ten times worse than I already was. I gasped, striving to repeat that I have done nothing wrong––we have done nothing wrong, in my mind with no avail.

  Then it hit me. My feelings were what I was feeling guilty about. The level of contentment, the level of ease and fun that I was experiencing while in Walker’s presence, was something I should be feeling in the company of my long-term boyfriend.

  Some things are not solely based on physical infidelity. I suppose I was feeling as though I was being unfaithful, not by just hanging out with someone who my boyfriend obviously has issues with, but because of the foundation which we had created in the days of Liam’s absence.

  I should have known from the moment I laid my eyes on him in the hospital. The way his pleasurable, seductive lilt repeated itself over and over in my mind like a scratched CD, should have made it blatantly clear that trouble was looming around the corner.

  Laying my arms vertically over my head, I concealed my face into my forearms, gripping forcefully at the hair on the back of my head, before a sharp pain punctured through my musing. My nails mined into the lingering tender wound on my forearm, thanks to my hasty recovery of the burned cake from the oven yesterday.

  What little air I successfully managed to suck into my lungs, was shunted along a whimper. Every muscle from head to toe tensed as I dug my nails into the flesh like I was mining to Peru. But I saw past the shock, past the piercing soreness and allowed myself to sink into it…to become one with it.

  Breathing in a methodical pace, every nerve ending in my body tingled, muscles turned lax, and the fire which shot up my arm ebbed as my fingernails released their mighty assault.

  A form of clarity shrouded me when I came to open my pale blue eyes. The feeling of anxiousness and guilt which aggravated my physical and mental state, now just a short-lived memory.

  I was on the cold floor, my knees pressed against my chest, my arms dropped to my sides. Everything was more vibrant. My world of worry and trepidation disintegrated before my very eyes, as I was claimed by a sensation of pure, undiluted serenity.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With my newly acquired momentum, I heaved a breath, along with myself, from the floor, using the sturdy door against my back to help aid in my rearing.

  “Okay, Kady, pull yourself together, woman,” I began giving myself a pep talk during which I was strolling through the living room to the kitchen to fix myself another coffee. “You have done nothing wrong. It’s Liam that’s changed. You have nothing to be concerned about.” I poured the onyx liquid into a fresh black cup then set the pot back on its stand. “If Liam hadn’t changed into The Hulk, and remained the same easygoing, fun-loving man I remember, then I wouldn’t be so enticed be the atmosphere which is molded while around Walker.”

  God have mercy, that atmosphere was pungently addictive.

  Overwhelmed by a form of dread, my stomach space launched when the irritating, shrill noise of the phone ringing echoed through the kitchen and dining area. As a consequence, my moment of serenity was the one to disintegrate this time.

  Oh, God, what if that’s Liam? What if he shouts at me? I can’t be dealing with Hulk mad right now. I don’t want him to shout. I don’t want him to shout. I don’t want him to shout.

  Hesitantly placing my coffee on the surface, I took baby steps toward the phone dock which was suspended on the kitchen wall aside the two-door refrigerator.

  Please don’t shout. Please don’t shout. Please don’t shout.

  With each step, my heart stopped. With each step my blood pressure rose. With each step I contemplated just allowing it to go to the machine. With each step I forced my nails to pinch harder and harder at the back of my hand, until I could feel the prominent edge of each nail through the thinning of flesh in its grasp.

&n
bsp; Shaking and reluctant, I removed the handset from its stand. Gingerly lifting it to my ear, my eyes were screwing closed in the process.

  “Hello?” my voice was a small, croaking whisper.

  I sagged as the name Katy traveled down the speaker. “What took you so long to answer, darlin’? You alright?”

  I smiled, grateful that he couldn’t see my moment of gladness at hearing his voice journeying down the handset and not a wild, angry Liam. “Yes, Walker, I’m okay.”

  “Good. So you got my note? Sorry I had to leave so soon.”

  “No, it’s no problem at all.” I strolled back to the stool which lay obstructing the walkway behind the kitchen island and the back wall countertop. “Thank you for the coffee,” I chuckled over the brim of the mug before taking another sip.

  “’Aye, its fine.”

  “I’ve just come back from next door actually.”

  “You went to Mrs. Parker?”

  I frowned. “Huh?” Who’s, Mrs. Parker?

  “Mrs. Parker…first name Nosey.”

  Coffee swam around my mouth, pleading for an escape route as I laughed uncontrollably at Walker’s given name to, Steinbeck. I felt my cheeks burn red as I lowered the cup to the wood, banging my hand on my leg like a demented seal in a desperate plea to draw a close to my throat sealing up, and rid my mouth of the increasingly cooling, bitter liquid.

  “Kady?” he sounded amused.

  Forcing a swallow I chided him for making me laugh, before setting about on the morning’s topic.

  “Damn, you told her good and proper.”

  “What can I say?” I shrugged a noncommittal shoulder, my mug suspended in mid-air. “I had a damn gut full of her interference. She’s had it coming.”

  “’Aye, that she did.”

  I overhead his name being shouted in the background, amongst what sounded like machinery.

  “Listen, I got to get back to work, darlin’. I’ll pick you up later.”

  “Okay, I’m going to head out in a bit anyway––” I wanted something new to wear to McGinty’s that night. Something a little…fresher, than what my wardrobe currently consisted of.