by Liana Key
"How do you have my number?" I asked sharply.
"Um, I asked and you gave it to me," he said with mild amusement. Had I been so drunk that I hadn't remembered giving out my number? What else hadn't I remembered? The shame, the guilt were re-entering my system. "We were going to organize getting our cars from Dave's. Still want me to swing by? In about an hour?"
"Oh," I relented. Well that wasn't so bad then. Just an arrangement to pick up our cars. Nothing to get upset about. "Yes, that's great." I gave him my address, took some Tylenol and hit the shower.
But he was earlier than an hour, and I was still doing my hair when he arrived and trying to sip a cup of green tea at the same time. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and I suddenly wondered how he'd got here. "My roommate is waiting for us," he explained.
"Oh," I panicked, abandoning my hair straightener and just putting my hair into a top knot. I quickly slipped on my heels, grabbing my bag and keys.
"Sorry to rush you," he said, but I expected no apology, after all he was doing me a service.
Helene was in a worse state than me, but David was bustling and insisted we sit for breakfast. In that gorgeous breakfast conservatory. I felt like I was in heaven, luxurious, pampered until David made Helene and I a green smoothie which tasted as bad as it looked, while he and Marcus tucked into bacon and eggs.
"It's not fair," I moaned, the smell of the bacon delectable. Marcus offered me a piece, warning me that I ate it at my own risk. "Anything to get that foul taste from my mouth," I said, referring to David's kale juice.
"I can probably do better than the bacon," Marcus said self assuredly, and I lowered my eyes and chewed on the morsel I'd taken from him. He was a handsome man, damn it, and some inexplicable attraction danced between us, but how could it, when my heart was in love with Cassian. I couldn't understand my feelings, couldn't understand why I was ignoring Cassian's texts. The time ticked on, and I should have risen and set off for work, but for some reason I was loathe to break up this little breakfast soirée. It was so civilized, sitting with three other adults, talking about adult things, listening, laughing, sipping coffee, headache or not. I rang work letting them know I'd be a few minutes late, but the minutes stretched to an hour and even the thought of seeing Cassian did not give me an incentive to move. In fact, if anything it made me want to sit there longer. Would he know, that I had kissed someone else? Would I have the skills to lie? The longer I was going without texting him was only going to make it harder, but my fuzzy brain even refused to answer his text that asked r u ok? As if denial meant it hadn't even happened.
Finally I shifted back in my chair and rose. All three of them sympathized that I had to work on a Sunday, and then agreed we should meet up again. I nodded, smiled though no date, time or place was set. Marcus walked out with me, saying he would go for a training ride up the coast, it was too good a day to waste indoors, the wind in your face, the sun on your back, the burn of your quads.
"Mmmm, suddenly work sounds appealing," I said, and he laughed. I opened my car door.
"You wouldn't be keen for a bite to eat later tonight?" he asked, quite casually. "Cycling makes a man ravenous...for food."
His flirting made me blush. My eyes gestured nonchalantly. "Could be," I said in a non-committal way.
"I'll call you...if I make it back," he chuckled. I made a move to get into my car. His hand touched my shoulder. "You're taller than I remember," he said, and his lips pursed and I managed to just turn my head a fraction, so he caught me on the cheek. He seemed a little surprised, but said with a click of his tongue, "Catch you later."
I was smiling as I got in the car, and my hand inadvertently touched the spot he'd kissed. What the hell was I thinking? What was going on with me? Just yesterday Cassian and I had fucked hard and fast and I'd loved every moment of it and now I was letting another man touch me, a classic tall, dark and handsome type, with an unfailing sense of humor, a sexy three day growth and a boring accountancy job. My description, not his. He in fact worked for a sports management company. And why had I eluded that I would meet him later. Sunday night was usually Cassian's time.
I sneaked into my office and locked my door, telling Eddie I had some important calls. He didn't query it, even though it probably sounded unbelievable for a Sunday. I took more pain relief, the headache dull rather than throbbing now, and at least my stomach was more settled. Perhaps kale juice was indeed the answer. I looked at Cassian's texts, sunk my head into my hands. What was I doing? Why did I want to see Marcus again? Was he even my type? Was I just craving normality, jealous of what Helene and David had, Tara and Rob, Stefan and Kayla. Normal relationships, dates, movies, drinks, dinner, dancing. Because I'd never have that with Cassian. Never. Only rushed liaisons in locked rooms, and love making in my apartment. I'd never be part of his family, nor him a part of mine. Would never celebrate special occasions, share in his milestones, it would only ever be a half a life. And it seemed I couldn't, or wouldn't settle for that.
Marcus rang and asked if I was still keen to meet. I liked that he treated it casually, just a meal, nothing so formal as a date, just two people going to eat together. I agreed and he said he'd pick me up around six thirty. I showered and dressed, then sat at the table waiting. I texted Cassian, the words had been playing through my head for hours.
Me: got terribly drunk, suffering very much, will sleep it off now
I pressed send, hating myself for my deception.
Him: worried about u, shall I come over?
Me: not good company, Tylenol and bed for me!
Him: sleep well, love and miss u
Me: love u, my sweet boy
And I sat there with tears streaming down my face. I hastened into the bathroom, splashing my face with water, reapplying make up. What a phony I was, declaring love in a text and then preparing to see another man. What had gotten into me?
Marcus arrived, dressed in jeans and a collared shirt. His hair was not styled back like last night, but he still made my heart flutter. The stubble was still there, his olive skin testament to his hours of cycling I imagined. We went down by the beach, walked along amongst the hordes of tourists and he lead me into a cafe where we ordered pizza and beer. It was perfect, just perfect. We talked, we laughed.
"So," he asked, and I guess the heavy questions were going to come. "Why still single?"
"Why not?" I asked flakily. "And what's your problem? Thirty and single?"
He chuckled. "You're not shy are you?"
"Is there something wrong with you? Can't commit? Bad tempered? OCD? Penis too small? What's your story?" I joked. Anything to get the attention off me.
"Wow, you're direct," he said, and raised his eyebrows suggestively, "I think I like that." He relaxed back in his chair and said, "Well I nearly fatally committed three years ago, but saw the light. The worst of my temper involved putting my fist through a wall. Also involved the near fatal commitment of three years ago. OCD? Probably opposite, live in a pigsty. And depends what you classify as small." I gave a nod that it was a good answer. He carried on. "Want to do a size check later?"
I tapped my fingers on the table. "Not particularly," I said feigning disinterest, though my heart was racing.
"And your excuse for being single? Don't think you mentioned it."
I waved my hand absently. "Oh just the usual excuse. How can you meet someone when you're working all hours under the sun?"
"You're the boss aren't you?" he said respectfully. "You should be setting your hours."
I sighed. "Trouble is I love my job," I admitted. "Sad, but true."
"I like a woman with passion," he said.
"Don't worry, I have plenty of that," I blurted, and then realized what I said and added, "for my job. Passion for my job."
"So, how long's it been? Since your last relationship?"
Now I was in trouble, and I had nothing prepared. I took a sip of my beer, willed my phone to ring and interrupt. "Oh, you know, I seem to be a little un
lucky in that department," I said airily not even answering the question, but hoping I sounded wounded, in despair. Then perhaps he wouldn't press for more details. Wouldn't know I was in a relationship. One that was doomed from the moment it started. One that was a complete paradox, the ultimate love which would have an ill-fated conclusion.
"Oh, okay. Maybe I can help turn that luck around," he said, with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows and I gave a shy smile but didn't dare ask him about his last relationship, that would hardly be fair. Although his failed engagement, I assumed was definitely not good reading. But with the unpleasant background check out of the way, the mood lightened and we enjoyed the rest of the evening. He drove me home, and I refused to let him walk me to my door, declaring, "I'm a big girl, I'm fine."
But he won with "I'm a gentleman, so I'll do the right thing!" I didn't have my key ready, didn't really want to invite him. Maybe he read that, because he said, "I'll check with Dave and Helene and perhaps we can organize a night out some time soon."
I flashed a smile, "Yes, sounds fun." I fumbled in my clutch for my key, held it up like I'd just found the lost medallion. "Good night then," I said with some finality.
"Yes, until next time," and he gently touched my jaw, steadying it so I couldn't move, and kissed me. I started counting in my head, but gave up after five, and we were still going. His tongue forced in gradually, testing, tasting, skillfully tantalizing. I started counting randomly again, from nine, ten, eleven. At sixteen I pulled back, exerting a gasp, a loss of air.
His eyes fluttered for a moment. "Paola," he whispered, and smiled, "till next time." And I was left speechless as he jogged down the stairs.
I went inside and stretched on the sofa, reaching for the remote to turn on the television. Oh my. What was I doing? Was I leading Marcus on? Had I enjoyed that kiss? What the fuck was I doing? I replayed the evening in my mind, over and over, the conversation, the easy banter, the kiss. Always back to the kiss.
I checked my phone. Nothing recent, except my mother wanting to know if we still had a lunch date tomorrow. I confirmed yes. I debated whether I should text Cassian. For some reason I longed to hear his voice, but then I knew I would just end up telling a litany of lies. I took more Tylenol and went to bed, praying for clarity in the morning.
It never came.
An early text from Cassian asked: are u feeling better?
Me: a little
Him: lesson learnt? :) Goddamnit, why did it seem like he was the sensible one in the relationship?
Me: hope so :(
Him: see u tonight?
Me: I'll let u know.
CASSIAN
When her last text ended with I'll let you know, my heart sunk. Literally, like the Titanic sunk to the bottom of the ocean, it felt like my heart dropped out of my chest. Monday and Tuesday were always our nights, always. She spent the day waiting for me, she always said. And now, it was suddenly like, I'll let you know. All of Sunday spent avoiding me, and now rain checking me on a Monday. Last night I had lived in hope, it was a hangover, headache, she was tired. Today though, there was nothing. It was as if a part of me, which had always dreaded the worst, knew that the worst was about to happen.
Her text came during training. It read: Moms not too well, staying for dinner, sorry xx
It could have been genuine. Her mother did have health issues, but it seemed all too coincidental. I typed in: hope she's ok. But then I deleted it. Because there was nothing wrong with her mother. So why indulge in her lies? As sure as fuck I knew she was lying. I didn't bother to reply.
But I needed to know for sure. After training I drove by her place. Her car was there. What the fuck? Did I have anything to lose by going up, knocking on her door? Maybe she'd just gotten home, that was feasible. I found a park. I could see the lights on in her place. What if she had someone with her? A new man? Someone she'd met at the cocktail party? It was better I know right? Better to know now, than presume the worst. Better to be dumped outright than dragged along in false hope. I knocked on the door. I could hear the television was on.
The lock unlatched. "Cassian?" she said, as her head peered out. She was dressed in jeans and a singlet top, her hair tied in a loose ponytail. It didn't look like she was entertaining anyone.
"Did you just get home?" I asked. I wondered if she'd been expecting me.
"Not long ago," she said.
"Have you been crying?" I asked. Her voice seemed shaky, her eyelids swollen. She opened the door wide and let me in. Maybe her mother really was ill. "Are you okay?" I took her in my arms. She rested her head against me. Her touch was like a homecoming. Yet hours ago I doubted I would ever have her again.
"Oh Cassian," she sighed, "oh my sweet, sweet boy." And she held me tighter and started to cry. And I knew this had nothing to do with her mother.
"What's going on Paola?" I asked, stroking her head, kissing her forehead. "Tell me."
Her tears stopped and she used tissues to blot her nose and eyes. We sat on the sofa. I didn't feel right being in my tennis gear, I felt out of place, wrongly dressed. I was sitting on the edge, perched, awkward.
"Something happened," she said, and that sinking feeling overcame me again. I stayed silent, knowing she had a big reveal. I braced myself for the worst. "I met someone," her voice was frail, edgy, unsteady. I stared straight ahead, couldn't look at her. "At the party." My eyes were glued to the television screen. "He kissed me." Her voice was hardly audible. I started to twist my ring on my right hand, round and round on the finger, unsure of what I was being told, unsure of what that meant. "Cassian?"
I couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. Did she mean it was all over for us? Why the fuck did I come here, why hadn't I just driven home? "He wants to see me again," she continued. Was that it, did she prefer this new man? "Cassian?" She put her hand on my knee. "I'm sorry," she said, and then I knew what it all meant. It meant it was all over for me. She had a choice and I'd lost out.
I sat there for a moment, trying to absorb the information. I was out, he was in. "You know it would never..."
"Don't say it," I interrupted in a whisper. I didn't want to hear her say that we would never have lasted. I fought to keep control. I elbowed her hand off my knee. I felt my chest rising as I tried to steady my breathing, tried to keep calm. My whole world, my whole life was crumbling around me, but I had to keep control. That's who I was, that's how I was. "Cassian, I'm sorry. I didn't want this to..."
"It's okay," I said, as if she'd just told me she'd changed my roster. I stood up. She held onto my arm, standing up next to me. I took her in my arms, and she sobbed. But I wouldn't cry. Wouldn't allow it. This was nowhere as bad as Magdala's rape, this didn't warrant tears. This was something I could recover from. I wouldn't lose my dignity over this. People got dumped everyday. It was a part of life, not a catastrophe. She continued to cry, I kissed the top of her head, inhaled her scent, but there was nothing. No Dior. I pulled away and walked out.
I drove home, dazed, numb. What if I hadn't gone around? Would she have told me? Would she have just texted me? You're out, new guy in. I avoided Dad and Antonia, went to my room. Debated whether to tell Jakey, then thought better of it, or at least not right now.
I texted Magdala: How's Cassidy?
Her: sleeping, beautiful
Me: tell her I love her
Her: already have:)
Me: goodnight, will c u tomorrow
Then Paola texted: Cassian r u ok?
Me: I'm ok
Though I was not o-fucking-kay.
Her: I'm so sorry, my heart is breaking, but you know we could never be together
That's exactly what I didn't want to hear.
Me: do u want me to resign
Her: do u want to? I would understand if u did
Me: no
Why did I text no? How could I see her but not be allowed to love her? Why would I torture myself like that?
Her: ok, I'll see u on Wednesday night then.
The
next day there was a heaviness in my chest, at times so bad I thought I might be having a heart attack. A kiss. She'd left me for a kiss. What, one kiss? Who was this guy, how could she know in one night that he was the one for her? That he would be better for her than me? That she could love him more than me?
"Are you all right?" Jakey asked in chemistry class.
"I have a headache," I said. And I did by now.
"You should skip training," he said.
"I'll take some Tylenol," I said. "I'm going to see Magdala later."
"Yeah, I should go too. Text we when you do."
I spent an hour at training, but couldn't hit any balls. I told the coach I wasn't feeling the best. I then went round to see Magdala and Cassidy. Jakey met me there. Magdala fed her, then she let me hold her and she fell asleep in my arms. It was so precious, she was so precious. I couldn't believe how much I loved this little girl, how we all did. Couldn't believe how much Paola had loved me one day, but not the next. How could she do that, just switch off from me? But then, Magdala had done that. One minute she loved Nathan, the next she'd forgotten about him. I would have to ask her how she did that, because probably if I wanted to survive, that's what I'd have to do.
Paola was scarce on Wednesday night. I arrived and dressed myself, kept my head down the whole evening, only glimpsed her once when she was behind the bar. I tried to act normally with Jenny, Eddie and my customers, think I pulled it off. No one asked me what was wrong. I worked as efficiently as ever, gathered my tips and left.
(Cassian's song: Secondhand Serenade – Like a knife)
PAOLA
I did have dinner at my parents house, but I didn't stay for long afterwards, not even for coffee. I had given Mama the rundown on Helene's party and when I told her about meeting Marcus she got so excited that you'd think she'd misheard me say that he'd asked me to marry him, not go out for pizza. I tried to calm her down but I feared already she'd be scouting bridal magazines. I excused myself saying Marcus would be calling me later, and she bundled me up with leftover apple pie and jars of gherkins she had made and insisted I keep her in the loop. I had to smile at her excitement, but my heart was shaking in trepidation of what I would have to tell Cassian.