Prelude: Book One in The Interlude Duet

by Auden Dar

  “Why is it so dark in here?” he asks and saunters over to the window that is covered by thick, dark brown curtains. Pulling the curtains back, he opens the window without asking. “For Christ’s sake, Lina. It’s so stuffy in here. You live in a funeral home.”

  “I do not,” I yell. I move the pillows and blanket, placing them on the floor. Like a child in a time-out, I sit on my couch and pout. I hear gunshots and realize The Walking Dead is still playing. Rather than lower the volume, I turn the television off. I’ll watch the rest later tonight when Andrew is off in la-la land.

  Julian’s back faces me. God, help me. He just insulted my house décor, yet all I can think about is how scrumptious he looks in his form-fitting jeans. His dress shirt doesn’t hide the beautiful body beneath. As if he could feel my stare, Julian turns around and walks toward me. Somehow, although I am seated, I go weak in the knees. It’s his quiet confidence that renders me speechless. It’s his ability to know me better than anyone that terrifies me. It’s his honesty that I miss.

  Sitting next to me, he’s so close that our knees touch. Julian turns to face me. “I know we haven’t been in touch for several years …”

  “Oh. My. God,” I say with exaggeration and shake my head. “You come here after all these years …” I stop for a second and take a deep breath. “I sent you letters, cards, and I’ve called you more than a hundred times but to no avail. What did I do to shut you out? I thought we would always be close.” My eyes are desperate to form tears, but I refuse to give in and continue, “You were there when I lost my father. I wanted to be there for you … out of everyone, I always believed nothing could keep us apart … no matter what. And after Caroline … Did you not think I would be affected by her death? She was like a sister to me.” I turn my head away. I won’t allow him to see the grief my heart has carried for so many years.

  “I know, Lina, but please understand that I couldn’t deal with the past and the only way to forget about it was to forget about you. Caroline’s death did me in. I was just so lost. I tried to forget everything, everyone, and most of all, you. Obviously, that didn’t work.”

  “Obviously,” I repeat sarcastically and roll my eyes.

  “God, Lina, I wish that you could understand why …”

  “I’m here, Julian. Right here. I have time.” I watch Julian flinch, waiting for him to continue. “Please … please help me understand. Why did you avoid me until now?”

  “I failed to save Caroline. I failed the people I love. I didn’t want to fail you.” He takes hold of my hand, his eyes intent on never leaving mine.

  “Don’t you understand that by shutting me out, for never responding to any of my calls and letters, for disappearing on me, you did fail me.” I pull my hand away from his.

  “Lina, is dinner ready?” Andrew yells from his home office.

  “Who the fuck is that screaming about dinner?”

  “That’s my fiancé,” I answer.

  “You said Andrew was at the office.”

  “Yes, his home office.” Suddenly Julian and I are interrupted by my roommate’s presence.

  “Oh, I didn’t know we were expecting company,” Andrew exclaims as he cleans his eyeglasses with his favorite light brown and green button-down shirt. It’s rare to have folks over. Even my best friends never come to visit my bungalow, preferring to meet at restaurants and bars for our get-togethers.

  Pushing himself off the couch, Julian heads toward Andrew. It’s weird to see the two men side by side. They’re so different in so many ways. Although Andrew is tall, he seems so small and fragile standing next to Julian. Extending his large hand, along with his confident voice that makes me crazy, he says “Julian Caine. It’s been a while.”

  “Julian? Yes, it has been a long time.” Andrew is at a loss for words. My fiancé turns to face me, searching for any sign of distress on my part. I form a slight smile and I mouth, “I’m fine.” That’s all the reassurance he needs. “Well then, I have to get back to my papers. Thank you for stopping by.” Andrew doesn’t glance my way again before disappearing to his home office.

  Julian turns his head and peers at me disapprovingly. Nodding his head, he makes his way back to the sofa. Without any hesitation, he sits next to me, our knees not failing to touch again.

  “This”−he points at my home and the hallway that Andrew has walked toward−“is why you left me and my family so abruptly? Is this why you seem so unlike yourself, so unhappy?”

  Although embarrassed, I stare at him with boiling anger. “What do you mean ‘this’?” My eyes shoot daggers. “This … this is my life, and that man …” I point in the direction of Andrew’s home office. “That man … has never left me … has been by my side for sixteen years. He was with me when I buried my grandfather. That man dropped everything to comfort me when Caroline died. That man … that man loves me. That man wants to spend his life with me. That man is the man I am going to marry.”

  He purses his lips and runs his hands through his thick locks. Clearing his throat, he says, “Lina, I didn’t mean to offend you. But I expected, I don’t know, so much more for you. To be quite honest, you need to do something about this state of unhappiness.” He sighs impatiently and studies the room. In an angry tone, he asks, “Where the fuck is your piano?”

  I am not going to answer that question. He doesn’t need to know that Andrew doesn’t like music played in the house with the exception of Christmas songs.

  “You’ve been out of my life for fourteen years, and now you think you can come here to my home and judge me? Ask about a fucking piano? Question my life?” I pause, and when he is about to answer, I raise my forefinger before taking a deep breath. “Julian, this is all I ever wanted. I. Am. Happy. You fucking left me. Where the fuck have you been? Let me repeat this again. Andrew has never left me. He has been by my side this entire time. He held me when no one else was there to hold me. He listened to me when no one was there to listen. He grieved with me when my grandfather died. He is all that I will ever want and need.” I can feel my cheeks flame. My heart is beating rapidly, and at the same time, I don’t know if what I’m saying is actually true anymore.

  How can it be when I’m constantly dreaming of the man before me?

  I scan my living room and know this is nothing I have ever wanted. To be constantly alone as my perpetual fiancé stays holed up in his home office. And although Andrew has been there through it all, we’re at a standstill in our relationship. How can I prevent myself from disclosing to Julian that although he’s been out of my life for so long, he still knows me better than anyone? How can I pretend that he’s wrong? Julian remains mum, obviously confounded by my outburst. His gray-blue eyes bore into mine, and I wonder … just wonder what would happen if I were to be honest with myself, with him.

  As his beautiful eyes gaze at my fidgeting hands, I focus on the man who I have desired the past week. The boy who left me fourteen years ago has morphed into a man I want to be intimate with. The man that, at times, I can picture a future with. The man I have loved since I was a teenager is in the next room, yet it takes every inch of willpower not to kiss the man before me, not to reveal that I’ve dreamed of him every night since we reconnected. That he’s caused so much physical pain in me. That the anguish in my heart escalates because I love my fiancé, but I can’t stop desiring another man. I can’t stop thinking about him … wondering about his days … imagining ways we can simply be.

  Think about Andrew, I remind myself.

  You’re going to work it out with him. He is your past, present, and future.

  Taking both of my trembling hands, Julian says, “Lina, I’m going to ask you some very personal questions.”

  “Go ahead. I have nothing to hide,” I say before eyeing the floor.

  Umm, just don’t ask about my carnal thoughts featuring you.

  “I don’t care that your fiancé is next door. I just need to know … are you truly happy with him?” I haven’t been happy in a long time. Bef
ore I can answer, his questions continue. “Does he make you feel cherished? Does he tell you every day that you … are … the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes upon? That you make him so fucking insatiable, he can’t get enough of you? That you are all he will ever want? Does he make you believe that it is you, and only you, who give him true happiness? And when he fucks you, I mean really fucks you …” He stops himself, suddenly realizing he may have overstepped the boundaries with his barrage of questions.

  I tilt my head slightly. My eyes enlarge as my mouth forms an O and I am unable to answer. I can’t believe how forward his questions are. It would hurt to answer them. I remain mute, and the few minutes between us become awkward. There is no doubt in my mind that Andrew loves me, but I am at a loss for words. I am incapable of answering Julian’s questions. Andrew is not a passionate man. Every now and then, I get a glimpse of the man I love, but it’s difficult to ignore that the man who I promised to marry has basically neglected me for more than a year.

  Julian knows the sad state of my relationship with my fiancé. Was it the perpetual engagement? The lack of an engagement ring? Maybe the desolate demeanor. Or as Roger would constantly remind me, I’m always uptight because I never get fucked. Either way, I am embarrassed and angry at the same time.

  “Lina, I apologize if I’ve offended you. I didn’t mean to upset you. I want you to be happy. Your happiness means everything to me. Know that a day didn’t go by that I didn’t think of you.” There is hesitation in his voice and then his sapphire eyes catch mine. “I am returning to New York in a couple of days. Until then, I’ll be at Shutters. I would love to spend more time with you. Only you. I want to be at a point in our relationship where you can trust me again.” His expression has faltered and it’s evident he knows how upset I am. Please do not make me cry. I lower my head, staring at the floor. I am startled when the pad of his thumb touches my cheek. As I glance up, mesmerized by his crystalline eyes, he murmurs, “God, you are so beautiful. I could make an endless list of things I admire about you.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  He traces my cheek with the pad of his thumb, his eyes never leaving mine. Julian admits, “For one, I love the way you sometimes snort when you laugh.”

  “I do not,” I retort.

  “Oh, but you do. You and Mugpie could have a contest, and I honestly don’t know who would win.” He slightly chuckles. “And when you’re nervous, you have no filter. You say whatever’s on your mind, realizing it after the fact.” He laughs before continuing. “I’ll see the light back into those beautiful emerald eyes of yours, and you’ll laugh, and you’ll snort. And it’ll be the loud kind you can’t hide. The kind that would surprise Mugpie as well.” He hesitates. “You mean so much to me, and I want you to be happy.” Anger subsiding, I feel defeated. He saw through all my defenses. Unable to respond, I watch him walk away. Before closing the door behind him, he makes a remark that touches a nerve. “This house isn’t you not because of the shabby décor. It’s not you because there isn’t a piano here.”

  Thirty

  It’s Friday morning, and it’s still dark outside. I peek at the clock beside me and it’s not even six. Julian’s words, “You mean so much to me,” remain on a constant loop. I can’t remember the last time Andrew expressed romantic sentiments. I can’t remember the last time I heard him tell me, “I want you.” Moreover, Julian’s remark about my not having a piano in my house is correct. Even if he had not re-entered my life, would I feel this way? Would I still feel neglected by Andrew?

  Absolutely.

  My relationship with my perpetual fiancé has become irrelevant in his world. I have become a roommate he fucks once a week. Okay, fuck is too strong of a word for what Andrew does to me on Wednesday nights. He … enters me. And our intimate moments are usually five to ten minutes, tops. When was the last time Andrew kissed me as if it were his last kiss? Okay, I’m still thinking about that one. Daily, I silently beg for affection from a man I’ve loved since I was fourteen. A man who I believe loves me but no longer desires me.

  My life has reached its lowest point, and I don’t know if I can get out of this. Yet I don’t want to consider what my life would be like without Andrew. It’s unfathomable. Do I stay with him because of love, or do I remain with him because of security and our history?

  What does it mean if I’m constantly thinking of another man? Okay, not just thinking, but desiring … longing … obsessing. My body aches all over just thinking of Julian.

  The only man I have ever desired has been Andrew Nielsen … until now. Even while we were away at college, not once did I date another guy. Months at a time would pass before reuniting with him. Distance didn’t prevent us from exclusively dating each other. I had no desire to be with anyone but Andrew. We talked daily, sharing everything. And although my fiancé has been mentally inaccessible for more than a year, I blamed it on his workload and stress. Because sex has been forgettable, I have been relying on my wonderful imagination and porn to keep my body humming. Now, I believe it’s more than that. I can’t forget how attentive he was. Moreover, Julian’s surprise visit didn’t help my floundering heart.

  Damn him for mentioning the piano.

  My heart yearns, and I feel like a cheater although I haven’t done anything. What if Andrew made more of an effort to be more intimate? Sex isn’t everything, but I know it’s a crucial element to any successful relationship. Despondency creeps in as I think about last night.

  Last night was a disaster.

  Lying in bed, a certain sexy Englishman haunted me. Unable to sleep, I popped two PM pills, praying sleep would come sooner than later. However, nothing could deter my body from desiring the wrong man. I was in absolute physical pain. My body longed for a man I was unfamiliar with intimately. Yet images of him invaded my body. It was like movie reels of him making love to me played nonstop. Unable to control the need, I turned to Andrew who, although I still love, had never excited me the way Julian has.

  My body needed to feel a connection … to feel intimacy. It’s wrong to have sex with someone while thinking of someone else, but I couldn’t help myself. I wholeheartedly believed having sex with Andrew would help ignite our relationship. Maybe it would begin with thoughts of Julian but would result in a passionate night with my fiancé. I was so fucking wrong. I should have just masturbated while Andrew was at work. So what if it wasn’t a Wednesday night? The last time we had sex was lukewarm at best. So what if Andrew was in the middle of reading a book? So what if it was after ten? So what if I was the one initiating sex? When I finally straddled him, it took him a few seconds to realize that I wanted to have sex.

  Even with my breasts popping out of my black silk nightdress, he didn’t budge. I rubbed my very wet sex against him and nothing. Nada. I placed kisses on his handsome face before cupping his chin. The look he gave me was unforgettable. His chestnut eyes did not respond with lust. It certainly wasn’t what I had hoped for. It was one of annoyance and then pity. I had never felt so utterly unwanted, undesired, and so stupid.

  Andrew didn’t even want to kiss me let alone make love to me. “Oh, Lina, it’s not our night. We had sex last night. Why don’t you watch a show or finish what you’re reading?” I didn’t do either. My eyes moistened. I stared at him, willing myself not to respond with anger, humiliation, and tears. Instead, I got off him and resigned myself to another night without intimacy. I should have walked to my studio and turned on my computer because watching Bruce Venture in action would have helped me. It usually does. But the pain was too raw.

  What straight man would say no to sex with a woman? A woman dressed in a sexy nightgown with her tits hanging out. There was a time when Andrew couldn’t get enough of me.

  I went into the galley kitchen and eased my broken heart with Andrew’s vegan chocolate chip cookies and almond milk. Heading to my living room, I turned on the television and watched the remainder of The Walking Dead. Embarrassed by need, I didn’t return to the bedroom until I k
new the man who rejected me would be sound asleep.

  Two Walking Dead episodes later, I turned off the television. Careful not to interrupt Andrew’s slumber, I laid in bed with my back facing him. Zombies didn’t erase the rejection. The rest of the night was spent silently crying for almost an hour. I have never felt so alone. Lying next to me is a man whose affection no longer lays with me.

  Now awake, I know a heart-to-heart conversation with my fiancé takes precedence over everything. I glance at the empty the bed that he vacated a few minutes ago for his morning walk. Closing my eyes, I silently pray that God will give me the strength to confront Andrew later today.

  Thirty-One

  After all these years, I assumed things between us would improve. That somehow by moving out here, Andrew would relax and make some time for our relationship. I halfheartedly envisioned us finally getting married. I no longer thought about a wedding but assumed we would at least make it to city hall during our first year in California.

  Walking in circles in our living room for what seems like hours, I wait for him to return from UCLA. I’ve been on edge all day.

  Once I am about to head to my music studio, I hear Andrew’s keys jiggling. Before he enters our house, I plop myself on our dumpy sofa. Because of student conferences, his schedule is a bit off this week, and he’s home early. As usual, he places his brown briefcase by the front door before walking to the living area. It’s the same routine. I remain seated on our old, brown couch, waiting. I wait to meet his chestnut eyes−eyes that no longer meet mine.

  The man I’m desperate to connect with is a few feet away from me, frozen in place, staring into the distance. His mind seems to be a million miles away.

  “Andrew,” I say, interrupting his thought.

  His body jerks a little. “Oh, Lina, you startled me.” Everything captures his attention except the woman who silently begs for his affection.