by Jeny Stone
Hannah sunk into her pillows after scrubbing the horrific two days off in the shower. She chomped ravenously into the apple she called breakfast, lunch and dinner. There wasn’t an ounce of energy left in her body to fix anything else to eat. The apple felt like it weighed a ton just carrying it up her long flight of stairs. With her stomach’s boisterous demands squelched, she called Garret. She knew she wouldn’t sleep without talking to him. His phone rang then went to voicemail. Now, who was being childish?
“Garret, I’m sorry. I overreacted from pure exhaustion. I want you to know something. I won’t ever ask to go to your townhouse. I understand about your need to have privacy with all that goes along with being a Presley. I know it’s a necessity and I care about you too much to cross over a line that would make you uncomfortable. Good night … Oh p.s., I crashed at Sharon’s apartment.”
She disconnected the call knowing her message was a bold faced lie. She understood she was included in a long list of desperate women he avoided after tossing them aside. She was only his favorite flavor of the week. Sure, she had lasted longer than most but she still remained on the soon-to-be-a-problem list. She needed sleep before her thoughts drove her into a full blown fury and she called him back to tell him how much she loved his stupid ass. She reverted to her deep breathing techniques and only made it to a count of four.
During breakfast Garret listened to her voicemail. Her message was meant to be apologetic and comforting but it wasn’t. He had woken that morning knowing the whole damn thing was his fault. It all stemmed from his lack of commitment. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t reached for her in his bed almost every morning, including this morning. He wanted her during the week. Oh shit, he wanted her every fucking day. The first thing he did every single morning was look at her picture on his cell phone. Yet, he couldn’t take that giant step to commitment. He was hanging off the edge of reason clutching desperately not to plummet into loving her. He just wasn’t ready to hazard a broken heart. His avoidance of a commitment wasn’t fair to her or her feelings after stringing her along for so long. She had lasted longer than any other woman but she seemed content with their arrangement. He wouldn’t end it with her until she demanded more. With a break in his routine quickly approaching he could wean himself off her gradually. Work would interrupt his weekends soon enough.
*****
The cuckoo clock loudly chugged nine times as the figurine on the hand car, pumped around the tiny railroad track. Garret hadn’t pulled in front of her house in his sports car. It was Friday night and he wasn’t where he had been for the previous weekends, at her cottage, in her arms. Hannah was curled in the corner of her couch, hugging her knees. She ran dry of tears an hour ago. She had checked for accidents online through the state highway website. The local hospital emergency room was a negative. She had relented and sent him a text asking if he was running late. His short answer of “working all weekend” felt final.
After their unrequited spat she almost expected their ending. The one thing she wouldn’t do was call Garret. She couldn’t force herself to hear firsthand it was over. Being considered as one of his stalkers wasn’t how she wanted him to remember her. She always knew this day was inevitable. The pain in her heart, which she had prepared for this day, was greater than she ever imagined.
Ten AM on a Saturday morning without Garret renewed the emptiness of her cottage. She hadn’t slept this late since she was in college after a late night of bar hopping with the girls. The sun had shown in her eyes before she remembered turning over, pulling the pillow over her head, and finally escaping into sleep. Her phones loud ring tone started her dismal day.
“Hey girlfriend. I know you’re going to hate this but, Happy Birthday.” Sharon’s cheery voice was welcomed but her words weren’t.
Hannah cleared her throat before she answered. “Actually, it might have been just what I needed. How about a girl’s night? Why don’t you and Cindy come to my cottage? I’ve been dying for you to see it.”
“We’re in, but I’m inviting Tequila. I won’t survive a night in the wilderness without her.”
“You can’t get in any trouble here so she’s welcomed to come. Call if you get lost. No b-day stuff. You have to swear.” Her friends used to try to celebrate her birthday. After years of Hannah’s protests and her not showing up for any of the parties they finally gave in and quit trying.
“We know the drill. I swear.” Sharon replied.
A girl’s night was exactly what she needed. If she had remembered today was her birthday she would have known it was time for Garret to end whatever it was they had together. Holidays, personal, national, or religious marked some disastrous occurrence in Hannah’s life.
Grammy died on Easter Sunday, leaving Hannah with the last Easter basket she would ever receive. Unless, there was a party to attend, her parents never remembered holidays. Her parents died in a car crash on Christmas morning, returning from a Christmas Eve party. Two cars, traveling in opposite directions, driven by two wasted drivers, both in the middle of an icy snow covered road, equaled another cursed holiday.
The list went on with a broken arm on the fourth of July which Hannah didn’t have set until the following day when her parents were sober enough to notice. Her mother tumbled down the steps on Memorial Day and Hannah had spent her summer nursing her back to health. She cherished that summer. It marked one of the few times her mother acknowledged her existence. Now, on her twenty-fifth birthday she lost Garret, the man she had inadvertently fell madly in love. Damn, life sucked.
She hurried to get ready, afraid to look in the mirror, praying she didn’t appear as haggish as she felt. Ice was a definite for her swollen eyes or her friends would know she had cried all night. An explanation of why would only make her pain worse. Oh shit, the portrait over her bed, marking his territory, wasn’t to be shared with anyone, not even her best friends. She moved her hanging clothes across the pole to hide the painting in the back of her closet.
Her friends arrived soothing the pain of loneliness in her heart. She proudly showed them her cottage after the initial hugs and bringing in their bags. They ended the tour in the kitchen where Sharon made Margaritas. With the medicinal alcohol taking effect Hannah relaxed and enjoyed the company of her friends. They sat around the snack filled kitchen table catching up on each other’s lives.
Sharon started on the all the gossip Hannah had missed hearing. “You haven’t heard all the latest gossip. Some guy broke Jay’s arm. He’s been in cast for a couple weeks now.”
“Someone’s husband or boyfriend?” Whichever, it served Jay right. There was justice in the world.
“No, well, no one knows for sure. He walked out of the bar one night and a guy walked up behind him. He snapped his arm and told Jay to keep his hands to himself.” Sharon kept her eyes on Hannah. Why would Sharon think that would upset her?
“Jay didn’t get a good look at him but he swears it was the guy you left the bar with.” Cindy blurted the news she was dying to tell.
Sharon shouted at her impatient sister. “Damn it Cindy, what part of ease into it didn’t you understand? Jay just thinks it was him. He can’t prove it. We’re just relaying the latest rumor, not accusing anyone.”
Hannah giggled sipping on the refilled glass of her tangy drink. “That’s utterly ridiculous. Jay didn’t even see Garret. He was too busy screwing his secretary to come to the bar. And Garret wouldn’t have a reason to break Jay’s arm.”
“Garret who? Have you been seeing him? You slept with him didn’t you? Tell us everything.” Cindy leaned forward resting her arms over the table.
“Was that a trick or is Jay’s arm really broke? You’ll have to wait until I’m drunk enough to tell you about Garret.”
The story of Jay’s broken arm turned out to be true. They spent hours deducing who had the best motive. The list was longer than Hannah ever imagined. Now, that Hannah was out of the picture her two best friends were included in the Jay gossip. They shared their new found
wealth of information gleefully. None of Jay’s activities bothered her in the least. It bothered her more that it didn’t bother her. How stupid had she been to be engaged to that whore hound?
They stayed up most of Saturday night drinking margaritas and catching up. Sharon was madly in love with a guy named Jeff and they had discussed marriage. Whoa, that was a giant step for Sharon, the girl that would never settle down with just one guy. Sharon’s humongous tits on her petite frame gave her pick of the wolf pack wherever she went. Most of the guys she went home with wouldn’t recognize her again if they only saw her from the neck up. But she refused to listen to Hannah or Cindy when they tried to stop her. Hannah would sleep better knowing Sharon had settled down and given up on her dangerous lifestyle. Cindy was on a hiatus from dating to recuperate from her latest heartbreak which surprisingly was Larry. Hannah advised her to hang in there always thinking those two were meant for each other. Life was stranger by the minute.
Cindy and Sharon pried information out of Hannah. After two margaritas, she became quite the little chatter box telling way more than she intended to tell. They Googled Garret Presley. When his picture popped up on the screen Hannah’s heart threatened to break all over again. Her friends piercing screams in both ears kept her tears in check. She hadn’t mentioned Garret dumped her, wanting to forget that part of her love story.
The girls stayed until late Sunday evening. Hannah hated to see them leave but they made plans to have another weekend soon. After spending a wonderful birthday with her friends, Hannah knew she would survive her first heartbreak. Although, it was her first, she suspected it would be her last. Even shattered her heart still belonged to Garret.
The long lonely week was emotionally disastrous. Everywhere she looked reminded her of Garret. Hell, they had made love all over the cottage. No room had been spared in retaining a now glaring memory. No, she made love, he had sex. She tried to work. Her heart wasn’t cooperating blurring her eyes with tears. She ended up doing a whole lot of nothing. She spent more time with Pops than anything else. She wasn’t sure if her time spent in Garret’s home made the pain worse or better. If nothing else it kept her busy.
Friday afternoon Hannah sat on her couch reading a book. The deep purr of the car’s engine stopped followed by his car door slamming shut. Hannah’s heart flip flopped in her chest. That was a sound she hadn’t expected to ever hear again. Hannah inhaled and rushed to open her front door to greet him. She exhaled the second her eyes confirmed it was him.
Without missing a beat, Garret pulled the door shut behind him. One arm slipped around her pushing her into the house. He lifted her off her feet with both arms wrapping her close to him.
“Damn, it’s been way too long.”
He tasted the softness of her lips. Her arms and legs slipped around him with an urgent eagerness. His mind cleared of everything except fulfilling his manly urges to have her. He had wanted, waited, too long for this moment to stop for anything. He turned, bracing her against the door to raise her dress. His kiss deepened in her mouth as his hand ran over her silky bare hips. He breathed in her flowery scent, felt her breast pressed against him. He leaned back to soak in her beauty. The pain in her eyes glaringly stared back at him. He should have called to explain before she had to text especially, the way they had left things earlier in the week. He saw it in her now questioning eyes. He planned to call but one thing led to another and time slipped away along with the thought of calling her. Damn, he was an inconsiderate bastard.
“I missed you. I don’t smell anything cooking. How about we order a pizza? There’s a great little pizza place in town.” He touched her lips gently with his.
She unlocked her legs finding the floor with her feet. “That sounds good. I wasn’t sure you would be here.”
As good as it felt to be in his arms and boy did it feel good, her heart still ached. So, he missed a weekend, it shouldn’t matter. They both had busy lives. It wasn’t as if they had a commitment. They didn’t spend hours on the phone telling each other about their day. All they had was sex filled weekends. Why did she feel so … betrayed … discarded? She knew the answer. It wasn’t simply sex for her anymore and hadn’t been for some time.
The hurt filled glint in her eyes made him feel like shit. He should feel like shit because that was exactly what he was, a big pile of smelly inconsiderate shit. He was too wrapped up in work to take a brief moment to call this woman that gave him so much.
“Hannah, I was tied up all last weekend with work. I thought I would be here but something came up at the last minute. My duties at the Foundation increase this time of year. From the first of November through the first of the year any free time will be limited. We need to compare our schedules and carve out times we can see each other. I should have called you. I’m not making excuses but time just got away from me and I forgot. It won’t happen again. Do you forgive me?”
She nodded her head yes, but he saw the doubt. The hurt he caused wasn’t going to be so easily dismissed. He would make it up to her somehow, someway. Whatever it took, he would do. He captured her lips to reaffirm his conviction.
Climbing the stairs Garret rehashed the events leading to his inconsiderate actions. Last week on Thursday evening when he was packing his clothes for another weekend at Hannah’s cottage his mother had called. She reminded him of the party Friday night at Robert Lindale’s townhouse. An evening with that boastful asshole had been easily forgotten. Unfortunately, Robert was a generous contributor to the Presley Foundation making the evening mandatory. With Robert’s party his whole frigging weekend was ruined. He had planned on one night with Hannah before leaving Saturday evening in time to attend another fund raiser. He knew his work schedule would increase during this time of year. That fact didn’t ease the disappointment of not seeing her. What was once his safety net to wean himself off their relationship had become a hindrance. He knew he would have very little time to split between Hannah and Pops. He would find a way to squeeze them in some way. He always found the time for the important things in his life. He had planned on calling her to let her know of the change in plans but he hadn’t and that was an oversight he would never let happen again.
She followed him upstairs to wait while he showered. She didn’t want to miss being close to him one second that he was here. Last weekend was a heart wrenching reminder of what she had known from the beginning. He wasn’t a permanent fixture in her life. She was a layover on his journey in search of whatever he was looking to find. He would continue his quest soon enough. After all, she hadn’t even warranted a phone call.
He stopped in the doorway of her bedroom. His heart dropped to his stomach where it was in danger of being regurgitated onto the floor. “Where’s the portrait?” His eyes riveted on her accusingly. His smile had vanished behind tightened lips.
“I had a girl’s night last Saturday. I love Cindy and Sharon to death but neither one of them can keep a secret. I hid the portrait in the closet to protect it from showing up on their Facebook pages.” She lied knowing she kept it hidden to protect her heart from breaking when she walked into her bedroom.
Garret opened the closet door slinging clothes down the pole. He pulled the portrait from its hiding place and leaned it against the wall. He walked into the bathroom with a sick feeling in his gut. His breaths crushed against his chest. It had been a week so she had time to destroy any evidence of another man. He looked around anyway in case she overlooked a hair or razor, maybe a toothbrush. A red lace bra was folded in the linen closet. Damn, she wore sexy underwear for the bastard. He angrily grabbed the bra that unfolded in his hand. It definitely wasn’t hers. He glanced at the door to make sure she wasn’t watching him, feeling immensely relieved, but foolish.
His dark mood concerned her almost as much as her own. So, he had suspicions but it was his own fault. He shouldn’t have left her uninformed with her imagination running wild. She deserved something as simple as a phone call. But why would he jump to the conclusion she
had another man in her bedroom?
He cleared his throat to get her attention that was focused on her hands while she was lost in her thoughts. He leaned on the doorframe with a bra dangling from his finger. It was Sharon’s bra she left by accident. His smile had returned. Had he searched her bathroom for evidence of another man?
“That’s Sharon’s boulder holder… And no, I’m not introducing you to her or her double-Ds.” She had watched him snap back and continue as if nothing happened. It was easy for him, way too easy. He was uninvolved emotionally.
“Come in here and join me in the shower.”
She had cried for a solid week over his inconsideration of her feelings. Then, he accused her unjustly of something she would never do under any circumstances. Now, he wants sex as if nothing had changed.
“What did you think I did last weekend?” She asked warily with her eyes pointedly glaring into his face.
“I put the portrait over your bed because I knew you wouldn’t let anyone else see it. When I saw it gone … well, I didn’t like it.” He hated the thoughts its absence had caused. That was a feeling he hoped he never felt again.
He had hurt her feelings, put her through hell and that was his answer, that pitiful excuse wasn’t going to get him off the hook. “So you automatically assumed I jumped into bed with another man. When have I ever given you any indication I was interested in anyone but you?”
She couldn’t see how beautiful and desirable she was. She didn’t know what men were capable of doing to get a woman. The combination of both those things scared the hell out of him.