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by J. Saman


  Levi doesn’t move or speak. In fact, the only way I know he heard me above the loud chatter of the other patrons is that his hand squeezes mine.

  I open my eyes reluctantly.

  He looks down at our fingers and then back up to me. “No ring on your hand.”

  “It’s in my pocket,” I say and then wince. He does too and now I feel even worse, but I don’t want to lie to him. Doesn’t mean you have to torture him either. Right. I’m a bitch.

  “Did you say yes? he asks cautiously.

  “No.”

  He relaxes fractionally, before stiffening up again.

  “Did you say no?”

  I shake my head and his eyes clench shut as he takes a deep breath in and out.

  “Number seventy-two” The lady behind the counter shouts out and Levi’s eyes snap open. Letting go of my hand, he steps forward and orders three bagels, including a sesame for me because he knows that’s my favorite.

  I tell him I have another man’s ring in my pocket and he still orders me my favorite bagel. Meanwhile, I haven’t heard from Tom once since that one-word text saying he’d landed.

  I know Tom is insanely busy. He’s moving into a new apartment, getting himself settled in. He has a lot going on, but this is what I was afraid of. Tom is gone and I don’t hear from him. He was always really bad at keeping in touch while he was working. Fine, he has a demanding job, I get that. But he’s in a foreign country now, and keeping in touch is crucial for our relationship.

  Levi, on the other hand, orders me bagels and changes his life to accommodate his sister’s needs. He always puts himself last and no one seems to ever change that for him. No one puts him first, and that breaks my heart.

  And the biggest part of me wants to be the one who does change that for him.

  He takes the bag the lady offers him, pays at the counter and then walks back toward me unable to meet my eyes. I haven’t moved from the position he left me in.

  “Ready?” he snaps.

  “Levi—” He brushes past me and I reach out, grabbing onto his coat. I don’t know why I stopped him. I don’t know what to say to him about this. I don’t know how to make the hurt in his eyes less.

  Only I do know how and something comes over me that I cannot explain.

  All I want to do is take away the pain that I see living behind his eyes. It’s always there. I don’t know if it’s a product of what he did to get Tanya back or something else, but I hate it.

  I pull him out of the bakery back onto the cold, busy street. There is noise everywhere. Car horns blaring, people talking, the hustle and bustle of the city surrounds us, but right now, all I see is him.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, but he looks away. “No one ever puts you first, do they?” I ask quietly.

  He huffs out a breath, finally turning back to meet my eyes. “That’s not what this is about, Lara. I’d happily put you first for the rest of our lives if you’d let me, but you’ve got another man’s fucking ring in your pocket.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to process that.”

  “I didn’t say yes,” I tell him, knowing just how pathetic and weak that sounds.

  “You didn’t say no either!” he yells, fury oozing out of him. I grab onto him, pulling him into me. I don’t know what made me do it, but I can’t let him walk away from me. I just…can’t. He resists at first, but his resistance quickly fades as he wraps his arms around me while I bury my head into his chest, breathing him in.

  “I didn’t know how,” I admit, my voice muffled by his coat. “He just proposed and I didn’t answer. Before I knew what was happening, the ring was here. He was leaving and I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

  He sighs, still holding onto me tight. “Do you want to marry him, Lara? If you do, just tell me now, please. I can’t keep going like this. It’s killing me,” he says, emphasizing the last part.

  I hesitate, wondering how honest I should be. “No,” I tell him and feel him relax into me. “I don’t want to get married.” I don’t qualify that statement further.

  “We used to talk about it.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “You weren’t so against marriage then.” The accusatory edge in his voice is unmistakable.

  “I know.”

  He pulls me back running his cold knuckles down my cheek. “Did I do this to you? Make you anti-marriage?”

  I look into his hazel eyes that sparkle in the sunlight. Like marbles with swirling patterns that change depending on the light. In this moment, they’re more green than brown. “I’m not anti-marriage, Levi, I’m just not ready for it.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Lara. Always have been.” He shakes his head. “Can’t you hear what your heart is telling you? You don’t want to marry him. I know you think you love him, and I’m sure a part of you does, but not as much as you love me.” He shakes his head again, gripping my waist tighter. “Never as much as you love me.”

  I open my mouth to protest when his lips smash into mine, taking me by surprise. I gasp and he uses that opening to slip his tongue inside my mouth, massaging my tongue with his. A groan ripples out of his throat as he pulls me closer, his fingers threading into my hair, keeping me where he wants me.

  I kiss him back with equal ardor. I can’t help it. It’s like coming home again. Even though it’s been seven years and a million kisses in between, I know this kiss. I know it in the part of my soul that says there is nothing like it.

  My brain is screaming for me to stop. I know how wrong what I’m doing is. Tom isn’t even gone twenty-four hours and already I’m cheating on him. Kissing another man like I’m starving for him.

  I try to push him away, but my attempt is weak. It lacks conviction.

  He does pull back though, his forehead resting on mine. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell him anything right now.

  So I don’t.

  Suddenly I’m rip-roaring mad. I pull away and start stomping back towards his apartment building that’s just a few steps from where we are. Reaching the door before him, I yank it open, heading straight for the elevator, completely ignoring the doorman who calls out to me. The doors open the second I hit the button so I step inside quickly, but before they close, Levi slips in.

  “How mad?”

  “Eleven,” I seethe.

  “I’m sorry,” he lies with a blatant smile on his face.

  “You are not!” I yell, turning on him. The sound reverberates off the hard surfaces of the small elevator. “You had no right, Levi. You just made me into a cheater. You happy with that? Because I, sure as shit, am not.”

  He chuckles humorlessly. “You can lie to yourself all you fucking want, but every time you’re with me, you’re cheating.” He steps towards me now, making me back up against the wall in the small space. He towers over me, cupping my cheek and bringing my eyes up to his. “You. Love. Me,” he says this with such authority, I swear my knees go weak. “You. Want. Me. So just fucking be with me already.”

  The elevator doors open and I push past him, hurrying down the hall back toward his apartment, which is stupid really. He lives there. Obviously he’s going to follow me. So I stop before we open the door. I don’t want Tanya to see any of this.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I confess, having left my anger in the elevator. “I’m not this girl, Levi. I’m not.” I shake my head looking down at my feet. “I’m the girl who has all the answers. Who has everything figured out.” I shift my weight, worrying my fingers together.

  He lifts my chin until our eyes meet. “Do you want me to leave you alone? Move on? Date other people?” He’s not asking this in a mean way. It’s a sincere offer, though the pain in his eyes is unmistakable.

  Do I want him to date other people?

  Truth be told, I didn’t know he wasn’t.

  I didn’t even think about it. Ever.

  The thought made me sick, so I avoided it. It still makes me sick. The idea of anoth
er woman in his arms is like a punch to the gut. It’s a visceral pain, and I wrap my arms around my stomach to try and ebb it. I’m shaking my head before I can stop myself.

  I don’t want to him to see other women.

  I’m the worst sort of selfish person. I really am.

  “How would you feel about Tom seeing other people?”

  It’s a good question really. A fair one, but again, not something I want to think about. Yet somehow, it’s an easier pill to swallow. Maybe because I know Tom isn’t seeing other people. Maybe because I know the likelihood of Levi seeing other people is much higher.

  “Stop lying to yourself, Lara. You know you don’t have to speak for me to know what you’re thinking. You were never able to hide your feelings. Your eyes give everything away.” Stepping into me, he wraps his arms around me again. “I’m not going to wait forever while you play engaged girl to another man. It’s just too damn hard to watch. I’ll give you some space while you figure things out.” With that he brushes his lips against mine before pulling away, and entering the apartment, leaving me alone in the hallway.

  “I love you,” I whisper, knowing he can’t hear it. My face falls. I think I’m making a mistake, and I don’t know how to stop it.

  29

  I’m a zombie.

  An emotionless ameba.

  A heartless one-celled organism.

  Tom left two weeks ago and I can count the amount of times I’ve heard from him on one hand. Three of those times were texts. I have yet to use my new iPad for any sort of communication, and the two phone calls we’ve had lasted only a few minutes each time because it was late there and he needed to get to bed because he had early meetings.

  I also haven’t tried very much either. I’ve allowed the space, hoping he’d be the one to reach out and make the effort.

  He hasn’t.

  All of our calls come from me.

  The texts he sent me were simple things like, I love you or I miss you. Nothing like, how are you, what’s new in your life, or how’s school or work. Nothing like that. Just simple messages that don’t require any thought or real feeling.

  They’re automatic texts.

  And I hate them.

  When I spoke to him on my way to work this morning, he was already in his office. So when I asked him why I hadn’t heard from him in two freaking weeks, his response was to get angry and berate me for making him feel guilty when all he’s doing is working eighty hour weeks and sleeping. Very nice.

  I get it, he’s busy. But so am I. I have school and work and papers and clinicals. I would make time for him, but he’s not doing that for me and it hurts. It’s feels like he gave me the ring to hold a parking spot, but isn’t feeding the meter. Okay, that doesn’t really make sense, but I feel abandoned and left behind, and it sucks.

  I don’t want this stupid ring and I’m angry that he gave it to me only to act like I no longer exist. What really has me all worked up is the fact that I know this is what it’s going to be like if I move there. He’ll leave early in the morning only to return late at night and work through the weekends.

  I’ll never see him.

  I’ll be in a foreign country where I know no one and have no job and I’ll be alone living with my ghost of a boyfriend. Oh wait, fiancé.

  It’s like my worst vision for this trip is coming true. Why does he even want me to fly out there during my spring break? He’s not taking any time off, so what the fuck is the point?

  I hang up with him exasperated and saddened.

  Looking down at my phone, I realize I now only have twenty minutes left before I start my shift, which also pisses me off. I wasted precious time fighting with a man who doesn’t care about the way I’m feeling, which is so unlike Tom it’s not even funny.

  He’s the most conscientious person I know. Except when it comes to his work. Yeah, I’ve always been second to that.

  I walk towards the elevators to head up to the cafeteria, fisting the bag with my breakfast tightly like it’s to blame for my shit mood. Maybe I was too hard on him. Tom’s stressed out and over-worked. But you’d think he could manage a couple of minutes a day to call or even send a better message. He has to eat sometime, doesn’t he?

  I slam my fist on the button for the elevator and thankfully it dings, indicating I don’t have to wait. At least the elevator is trying to make me feel better. The absolute worst part? Today is my twenty-sixth birthday.

  And Tom forgot.

  The doors slide open and I want to vomit everywhere when I see what’s going on inside. Chrissy is pawing all over Levi’s chest, and he’s smiling down at her like she’s the best thing in the world. Could this day get any more fucked up?

  I can’t take it. I just…can’t.

  I haven’t seen much of Levi in the last two weeks. He finished up his short stint in the ED and has since has been working another anesthesia rotation. Anesthesia doesn’t grace us with their presence often because usually our doctors, or mid-level providers for that matter, are in charge of medicating the patients.

  So great, I don’t see him for two weeks, and I don’t talk to Tom, and now Levi’s practically eye-fucking Chrissy in the elevator while she feels him up. Super. Thanks for playing.

  I huff out a breath, spin around and stomp off towards the front entrance of the hospital without even looking to see if they noticed me. I’d rather eat outside in the cold than be in the elevator where God knows what happened between them. It makes me sick and bitter and just fucking angry.

  Dammit, I just want to cry, and I can’t because I have to go back in for my shift. I’m only here for another couple hours. I’m done at eleven today, but I just don’t want to do it. I’m so tempted to go over to Sue and play sick, but I can’t. I need the hours.

  Throwing my bag onto the nearby bench, I sit down, bringing my knees up to my chest. Burying my head, I swallow a few times to stave off the tears I feel building. The cold wind whips all around me, but right now, the pain of it feels good.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach for it with an angry snarl. It’s Tom. This shit better be either an apology or a happy birthday, or I swear I’m gonna lose it.

  “Hi,” I say, after swiping my finger across the screen to answer.

  “That’s how you answer for me?” he snaps. Okay, apparently I’m not getting either.

  “That’s how you respond to me saying hi?”

  He sighs loudly. “Lara, I don’t have time for this.” Lara? He never calls me Lara.

  “Then why are you calling me back?” I ask, just as annoyed as he is. I’m resting my head on my knees and I feel a tear slide down my cheek, wetting my scrub pants.

  “Because I wanted to let you know that I’ll be out of town for a couple of days when you come to visit me. I’ll already be gone when you land here. I have to go to Ireland for some meetings.”

  “Okay. Can’t I meet you there?” I swallow the frog in my throat. I hate everything.

  “No. I’ll be too busy to look after you properly there, so it’s probably best if you stay here in London until I get back.” He’s got to be kidding me right now. He wants me to find my way into London from Heathrow, and to the apartment, and stay there all by myself?

  “Then maybe I shouldn’t come at all. I mean, what the fuck is the point if I won’t see you?” I snap. I’m working up a good head of rage right now, and I’m so close to blowing it’s not even funny.

  “Lara, do you have to make this more difficult for me?” For him? “I’m doing the best I can. You’re being petulant about this whole thing. I’ll be able to see you when I get back from Ireland, and at night before bed, and in the morning before work.” Wow, that sounds really great. Super romantic. Do you hear my sarcasm, because I’m just dripping with it?

  “I have to go, Tom, I’m at work. Surely you can understand the difficulties of talking at work.” I hang up on him. Screw him. What an asshole. Tom and I never fought. Ever. And I don’t think I’ve ever called him a name in my
life. Certainly not asshole, but right now, asshole is all I can think.

  I hate men. Like, officially hate men. I turn my phone to silent and head back inside. I’m freezing and I don’t think I could swallow, let alone stomach, my breakfast. At least my tears have dried up. I think I’m far too enraged to cry. “Hey, birthday peanut,” Amara says with a bright smile as I plow through the doors into the ED. Her smile fades quickly when she sees my expression. She grabs my arm and pulls me into the locker room. “What’s wrong?”

  “Men. Men are what’s wrong.” I stamp my foot and cross my arms over my chest like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum. Maybe I am being fucking petulant, but I don’t care enough to stop.

  “Talk to me?”

  “Tom is an asshole,” I snap and her eyes widen in surprise, because like I said, I never call Tom names. “I haven’t heard from him in weeks, Amara. Less than a handful of times, and most of those are stupid bullshit text messages.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. I’m rolling right now and I don’t want to stop. “So I finally talk to him on my way in, and we fight about the fact that we haven’t talked. Apparently I’m a demanding bitch for being pissy about it.” I shake my head before she can ask. “No, he didn’t call me that, but it was sort of implied. Anyway we hung up and then like ten minutes later he calls me back to tell me that he’s going to be in Ireland when I get to London next month. He won’t even be in the same motherfucking country as me. And when I asked him if I should just meet him there, he said no.”

  Her jaw drops, and her hand reaches out for my shoulder like she needs support. I’m grateful for it because I need it too.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, fucking seriously. He wants me to stay in London by myself for god knows how many days until he returns, and then he told me that he’d see me plenty before work in the morning and at night before bed. Fucking asshole,” I vent, all sorts of worked up, but feeling a little better for it.

  “Jesus, Lara. I’m so sorry.” She wraps her arms around me and I start to shake from trying to hold back my tears.

 

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