by Janice Ross
"Let's go somewhere," Rhys stated, not really asking but allowing the temptation to hang in the air.
"I'm not ready. We need to stop, now, please."
"Why?"
Honestly, it was difficult for people to get under my skin. Not only did I like it that way, I needed it that way.
"That's just a necessity at this stage in my life, Rhys."
"Doesn't have to be, Chanel."
"We’re in your office, at work. There are a room of business associates, sitting in a conference room, awaiting our return."
"Let them wait. I’ve had to do it for the past several years."
As if I hadn't already felt uncomfortable, he suddenly made me feel even more out of sorts. It had been a long time since I'd felt this sort of discomfort. It had been more than two years since I'd been happy or even remotely satisfied in life. In fact, with Rhys next to me, forcing me to step outside of my barricade, I couldn't help but feel guilty.
He continued to rattle on about fate, destiny. I couldn't bring myself to pay attention, to hope, to explore the possibility. And so, I collected the emotions I’d laid out to slowly back away from him. He didn't try to stop me. In fact, he eventually stopped trying to speak to me altogether.
Our immediate space became silent while the voices from outside of his office steamed along in the distance. Even that was too much for me, but it didn't matter now because I no longer cared to be there. To hell with any of this.
"I'll see you around, Rhys," I spat out before swinging open and fleeing the door like hell awaited me. The only thing to match the speed of my legs was the rush of my heart. Dammit! It only sped up to come crashing down the minute I squeezed outside and stepped into the sunlight. I had to bend forward, take large gulps of air that didn’t include Rhys’s enticing scent and remind myself that I needed to live.
XXIII.
Rhys
~
There was nothing Chanel could do to push me away this time. I saw beyond the tough exterior, right to the side of her that craved something more. I leaned into the leather office chair, thoughts of her luscious lips and silky honeycomb skin haunting me like the plague.
Chanel Bissett–I needed to know more, everything if possible because there was no getting over this fixation. The passion we exchanged wasn't by chance. If we'd only met three years back, and our paths hadn't ever crossed again, I might've brushed things off. But out of over eight million people in New York City alone, how could I not notice her connection to my life?
"Your behavior is less than desirable," one of the business associates lashed out. The two were filling up my doorway. For the sake of their relationship with Rupert, which now garnered respect, I chose not to reply. Instead, I strolled away from where I'd been seated behind the shiny, cherry oak desk. Four wide footsteps later, I emerged through the door. The men moved out of my way without me having to mutter a single word.
"Mr. Colburn will hear of this," the other man declared to the wind. This life was not my own. Dammit, every time this girl came near me, I sparked with purpose. I refused to believe she was oblivious to its effects. If it took for me to force her to own up to what was exploding all around us, then that was just what I'd do.
Chanel couldn't have gotten far. I wanted her–to see, feel, hear, taste, or whatever else. An intense urge to run my tongue along the perfect curves of her chocolate body and kiss away every hurtful memory forced my steps to move quicker. Oh God, I wanted, no, needed to dive into her and swim inside the very depths of her soul.
Breathing out of control, I rounded the corner to our adjacent parking lot only to fix my eyes on the side profile of the woman I ached to have. I could finally admit to myself again I’d always had an urge to run my hands all over her sexiness. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten what it had been like when we’d met at the hospital and at the condo. I could get real and confess to myself that the day on the street might've been the moment. Affection had a way of directing our hearts when we first see the things most pleasing to us. But when every fiber of matter aligns with what we need, though it might not seem that way, you can't help but take a step back to admit to yourself. It made sense.
Years of emptiness had once weighed me down. I’d come close to believing there was no such thing as love or happiness.
No more.
No more.
No more.
I damn near burned a hole through Chanel's silver Nissan. Her head spun to the right, to me. Without ever moving as far as my will wanted to carry me, I craved every smooth inch of skin, every not so gentle portion, and even the delicate aroma of her fears.
Her thoughts came at me, even with the distance between us. I willed her to not start up the car, and instead give in like I was ready to. I studied deeply and ordered her to come to me. Granted, I knew it was my selfish side because hurt crowded her eyes, but my God, I needed her back with me. To make her whole.
Chanel, shut off the damn car.
Chanel, don’t go.
Chanel, you're made for me.
You’re mine.
Come to me.
But she didn’t.
Like I'd come to a realization, the universe had to open her eyes. In fact, when she pulled off, my insides damn near melted. It took every ounce of my manhood to be strong and not run after the vehicle.
I tipped back my head to lean further against the edge of the stone foundation and gaze into the blistering blue sky. But seeing the world, massiveness and all, was too much to take in. It represented a lonely life with minimal fulfillment.
I allowed my lashes to lie flat to mentally revisit the moment we’d just shared only minutes ago. For all the times I’d tried to convince myself love at first sight never existed, I wished I could now duplicate myself and kick my own ass.
"Yeah," I said in a low drawl to no one in particular. My frustration was such that I even kicked up the heel of my leather boot to the concrete frame of the building. The scratching sound actually helped to soothe this inner aching, so I kept up with the task, determined to rub out the name of the girl I’d fallen for three years back when this tough girl stepped into my world. She wasn’t the usual, double-take type of girl, and definitely not one to throw herself at some random guy. She gave off this cool vibe, similar to sitting on a beach during the end of summer, right before fall began but right after the cold air had set in. Chanel, no matter her color or race, was everything any man would want because she was real.
A smile crept across my face. I tossed my head aside and bit my lip only to inhale through clenched teeth. Though it was brief, the fullness of her lips as they’d crushed into mine had pretty much marked me. And her scent...Chanel's scent, a tinge of Bath & Bodyworks lotion, could never be mistaken. Even when I knew that the fragrances were not hers exclusively, I recognized her energy beneath it all.
XXIV.
Chanel
~
I lost the fight as the door came into view. I wrapped my fingers around the golden knob of a thick oak door to throw it open. I only gave him my back, making certain he couldn’t see the tears. I was sure he’d heard the muted noise I tried to hide by biting my lips shut. The light breeze of early afternoon was a relief. If I had remained in that building just a moment longer, I’m sure I would’ve fainted. It wasn’t an easy task, keeping my wits at all times–yet I somehow managed to do so in public, except for the times I'd ran into Rhys.
I kept my head low as I hurried along the back of the building and turned the corner while advancing from the grass onto the concrete path. Air rushed at my face with each second of my exodus from the fire we’d ignited. I somehow managed to find my car and drive home.
The burn. The sobs. The pain.
Loss. Heartache. Finality.
Rhys...Rhys ...
No way!
My heart wasn't breaking for Rhys. I'd totally defiled Zach's memory by allowing this stranger into my world. Oh God, the searing feel of disappointment cut at my soul.
Eve
ryone kept telling me to get on with my life, but why? For me, life stopped that day at the beach. I still needed to address those issues, not take on new dramas. No...I wouldn’t let Rhys make me lose focus of honoring Zach’s memory.
The minute I entered the house, I locked up, retrieved my cellphone, and dropped my bag next to the door, thankful my mom hadn't still been over. Very few people understood my grief. Thankfully, Zach's mom would never turn me away. Mom's warnings about his mother's hopes for Zach meant nothing. Neither of us could claim him or his life. Instead, we had each other to rely on for comfort.
"Hi, Mrs. Marlowe," I whispered into the line. Since his death, we'd gotten close. She’d helped me cope in a way no one else could ever do.
"Hi Chanel!" Her voice sounded livelier than usual, but then deepened as she asked, "Rough day?"
"Mrs. Marlowe, I still can't believe he's gone." With her, I could let all of my frustrations go. I was able to freely cry, yell, cuss, and even hit things. "Everything reminds me of Zach."
"Ah sweetie, it breaks my heart even further to hear you're hurt. I'm only now able to say his name without falling apart."
"How? How's that even possible? We had him for over twenty years. Two years can't heal the hurt."
"Chanel, dear, I don't believe we'll ever forget. That's not possible, but..."
Her words made me cry harder than I thought possible. It was a beastly, guttural type of sob which bounced off the wall. The release included more than Zach’s loss, however, though that portion remained my own personal secret. In some way, I wanted to believe I had been caught up in a kind of on-going dream sequence. How could love be rectified in this way? And what was supposed to be true love at that.
I listened to Zach's mom continue on about the joys of counseling for another several minutes. This was everything I already knew because on many occasions, I sat in the counselor’s chair to advise others.
After wrapping up our chat, I called home and spoke with my parents. My mom wasn't entirely thrilled to hear my groggy voice. She didn't and couldn't understand my continued grievances after we'd opened up more earlier. My dad, on the other hand, had learned to appease me. Either way, I was willing to accept them shunning me if it came down to that. Everyone believed time would heal the wounds. They felt I would live a happy life, but how could I ever accept the fact that Zach would never achieve a level of happiness we'd aspired to sharing?
I fell asleep with the weight of all I’d ever carried penetrating my mind.
~
"I’m not telling you to go out and screw every damn guy in the five Burroughs, but I’m going to need you to get the hell out of here, Chanel!" Mal marched right into my room even though I was certain it was locked.
I glanced over at the end table clock to see that it was just approaching eleven before pulling the cover over my head.
"Not today…hell no!"
This was a monthly ritual since about three months after Zach had…had...
"How am I supposed to cheer you up or be the BFF I’m supposed to be if you won’t let me?" She captured the top part of the blanket and drew it all the way down until the tips of my toes were exposed. "Chanel, you gotta live. I know it hurts, but I’m sure Zach wouldn’t want you to just give up like this."
"Mal, I’m going to work and getting out of the house whenever I need to."
"What about human interaction? What about meeting other guys?" She sat down at the side of the bed and bore into my face. Mallory Winters had been my friend for almost as long as Zach had been mine.
"I’m still in grieving mode," I responded, turning my head in the opposite direction. I knew it had been a while, but no one could convince me to stop feeling. It was more than heartache or loss. I genuinely felt broken in knowing that Zach would never be able to experience any of the things others wanted me to.
"What about falling in love, dating, hooking up, and the pleasures of being young, Chanel? There's probably a hottie out in the world waiting for you to emerge. Don't let your future slip away while the past holds you hostage."
I considered my next words, any type of rebuttal for her argument. A spark passed along my lips. Rhys’ face flashed before me. "No," I cried to myself rather than her.
"Well I’m gonna tell you now. If shit happens to me, I’m giving you full permission to move on and get a new best friend. Just stay away from those skanks that only know how to backstab and steal each other’s men. I will haunt your ass if you don’t get a damn life."
This wasn't the first time Mal had said that to me. I used to get pissed at first, but this was her. "You're a grief counselor for Pete's sake. This isn't normal!"
I shrugged her off and swung my legs over to the other side of the bed. I didn't care to go out of the house, not unless I needed to, but this evening’s discussion with Zach’s mom seriously rode my mind.
"I spoke with Mrs. Marlowe today–"
"Really, Chanel? How do you expect to heal?"
"Listen Mal, please." I reached down to grab a pair of fuzzy pink socks that matched my cotton, oversized nightshirt and pulled them on. After getting to my feet, I moved over to the other side of the bed.
"Is that why you’re all depressed and shit, still?" She threw herself across my bed, just as I landed on the side next to her.
"You talk about me being dramatic? Sheesh, Mal." I waited for her to moan and mull around with how much I’d thrown away my fun years before I got too old to shake my ass. And when she appeared to let up a bit, I said, "I get it!"
"Get what? All of my efforts and everything is finally paying off?" Mal shot back up. Her face was full of color and eyes were glistening against the lights.
"I think you need to forget about being a vet, like when we were younger. And rethink the whole celebrity interviewing gig. Your career is in acting, Mallory. Fill human beings’ souls with laughter, instead."
"Screw that, Chanel. Am I finally getting my best friend again?"
"I’ve always been here, but–"
"What happened? I mean, not that I give two fucks or anything."
I hiked one leg up onto the bed, folded at the knee, and turned to her. We were only about several inches apart.
I took three deep breaths and considered Mrs. Marlowe’s words. "Zach’s mom is trying to move on. She believes that I need to do the same."
"Let’s forget about the fact that I’ve been telling you this all along, might I add, but she’s absolutely right. Sweetie, I know you miss him. We all do. He impacted all of our lives and he’ll always be remembered for doing so, but we’re still here."
Her words, although true, were some of the hardest to hear. I allowed my lids to close, even squeezing them tight as if I would lose a part of me if I didn’t. My insides had been churning all night. Part of me felt defeated and uncertain, while another part of me believed what I’d been hearing all along. Zach was, and would always be the guy I’d fallen in love with, but I would try to live. If only for the sake of the life remaining inside of me, I would try to live for me.
~
Mal gave me exactly twenty minutes to get ready. Her room was down the hall, but she screamed out every five minutes for a countdown. The sad thing about that was no matter what I was doing or even if I was inside of my closet, I could hear her.
To keep things simple, I pulled out a light cotton, aqua-green mini with a basic cream tee shirt. Since I’d already considered myself a simple kind of girl, I drew on my favorite, as in comfortable, pair of suede booties and matching jacket. If it hadn’t been approaching fall, I would’ve certainly pulled on my cowgirl hat to match. For some reason or another, it always drew attention when all I ever really wanted was to blend in and be forgotten.
"So glad you didn’t forget how to dress for a night out." Mallory's dramatic behind rushed back into the room. She had on a pair of high-waisted, skintight brown slacks and a fall green tank that barely covered her boobs and belly. Her hair was wild, as usual. She had the most gorgeous, thick curly hair
that most girls would die for. But unlike most of us that tried everything in the world to make our manes look just right, hers always came with very little trying.
"I wish I could look as stunning as you, Mal."
"Whatever girl. You’re not wearing your hat?" she teased. Before I could respond, Brutus, her little pug, raced into my room. He spun around her several times because he honestly thought she was his property. Brutus was a gift from her freshman boyfriend and although they’d broken up after only nine months, we joked around that the guy’s energy had somehow transferred to Brutus.
"You’re not taking him back home this weekend?" She’d keep him every now. If more than two weeks went by without him seeing Mal, he’d turn into a little stinker–turning things over and having indoor accidents on purpose. Her younger sister had been away for the past week, so Mal had decided to keep Brutus at our house.
"I’m taking him back in the morning," she whispered, knowing that he was sub-human and could possibly sense when things were up.
"I’m ready to go. Let’s get this over with," I rushed out and took several deep breaths.
XXV.
Chanel
~
It wasn’t that the house was small, but it was uncomfortable as hell. I thought the whole appeal of having a house party was to make it homely and relaxing. The porch was off limits. In fact, it was a murky shade of forest green. A big white sign hung from a chain. Unless you had perfect vision, you wouldn't be able to read the warning written in plain blue ink:
STAY OFF. BACK YARD.
"Is this thing outside?" I asked, not sure that I felt comfortable leaving my cozy room and home to party outside in early fall.
"Indoor or outdoor, your ass is here for the long haul, buddy."