by I. A. Dice
“What were we drinking last night?” I asked. “Jet fuel?”
Scorpio put the morning paper to the side, a frown on his forehead. “Good morning to you too, dickhead. Feeling rough, are you? I fucking hope you are.”
“Oh-kay. Whatever I did to piss you off, I’m sorry. Cut me some slack, I can’t remember a thing.”
“I have been cutting you some slack for two weeks now! You’re out of control, Thomas. You need to get your shit together!”
I massaged my temples, the raised tone of his voice like needles in my eardrums. “Fine. Care to share? What did I do?”
Scorpio pointed to the window, and I looked over there, then cringed at the sight of my BMW parked over the stone fence.
Should I explain that the fence was ruined and so was Jane’s beloved flower bed? Oh, and the car was trashed, too, in case you wondered.
“You came here at two in the morning, shitfaced, mate. You couldn’t fucking stand, let alone drive. And you just sat there, both hands on the steering wheel, looking into the distance like a retard. I knocked on your window, but you didn’t even flinch. I dragged you in here, and then,” he motioned behind me, “you drank all that by yourself.”
I turned around and winced at the sight of an empty bottle of vodka on the countertop.
“I’m sorry about the fence, and about turning up here in the middle of the night, again. I’ll have it fixed. Where’s my phone and my watch?”
“It’s almost noon,” he said, the anger fading from the tone of his voice. “You didn’t have your phone, and your watch is in the living room. You took it off when I hit you.”
My eyes widened. “You hit me? Why did you hit me?”
“I’m surprised your jaw doesn’t hurt,” he scoffed. “You were out of bloody control, mate. I mean, you tried to smash my console, and no one, I repeat, no one gets to touch my console. I had to nail you.”
“And I took my wristwatch off to fight you. I guess it didn’t work out well for me.”
“You forgot about the fight before you got the watch off.” His features hardened. “You’ll get yourself killed, Thomas. This has to stop. You have been drunk for two weeks straight now. Does it at least help?”
I shrugged, a new wave of pain, far worse than the physical one ripped my heart to shreds. “Nothing helps. Nothing takes the edge off.” I rested my face in my hands pulling on my hair, helplessness penetrating my structure. “She’s all I think about. I have bought more tickets to New York since she left than there are seats on those fucking planes.”
“Nadia’s gone, Thomas. I’m sorry, mate, but if you don’t accept it soon, you will get hurt.”
I took out the letter she left on her pillow in the hotel and passed it to Scorpio. I had read it so many times, the words were etched into my brain like a sad, idiotic poem a teacher made you memorise in primary school. I didn’t show it to anyone yet, not even Nick, even though he asked more than once, but I needed someone to read it and tell me what the fuck I was supposed to make of it.
Thomas,
The road to heaven leads through hell.
I went through hell and found you at the end of the road. Now I have to turn around and walk away from heaven.
By the time you wake up, I’ll be halfway across the Atlantic. Or so I hope. God knows I can’t look at the disappointment in your eyes. I think I would die a little if you would ask me to stay, because I can’t stay no matter how much I want to be with you.
Adrian needs me more.
He’s broken and fragile, and I owe him more than you can imagine. Now I need to return the favour.
Don’t think leaving you was an easy decision. Don’t for one second wonder if I care about you. I do. I care so much it scares me, because it’s only been a few weeks and you turned my world into a better place simply by being there.
And for that, and a million other things, thank you.
I hope you see why I’m leaving. I hope you understand that if anything were to happen to Adrian because I wasn’t around to help him, I’d fall apart beyond repair.
Please don’t hate me. I don’t think I could handle that. And please find someone who’s worth your time and effort.
You’re quite a something, Thomas, and you deserve to be with someone without the ugly baggage I carry. You deserve so much more than I can offer, and I hope you’ll find it soon.
Nadia.
“Well, she got one thing right,” Scorpio spat out. “You do deserve someone better than her.”
Wrong.
There was no one better than Nadia.