by Jessica Wood
“Goodbye,” I finally said and turned to go.
“Take care of yourself.” His words were almost inaudible.
I turned to walk back down the staircase to my apartment. A part of me wanted him to chase after me, to tell me that he wanted something more from us.
But he didn’t.
I had held in my tears in front of him because I refused to let him see me cry. But when I got inside the privacy of my apartment, I broke down, and hot tears streamed down my face.
Reality hit me. Today was not the day I had lost him. Today was the day I had discovered that I never truly had him to lose. I collapsed onto the floor. The splendid world that we had built together during the last two months—the world that swept me off my feet—came crashing down like a stack of playing cards. For the next hour, I sobbed for my lose as I felt every shard of the pieces of my broken heart cut inside me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Damian
“TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF,” I HAD ended up saying. That was the last thing I had said to her. I had wanted to tell her so much more. I had wanted to go to her, hold her, and never let her go. Yet, something had stopped me. I had seen the pain and agony on her beautiful face. It had hit me at that moment what I had done that; I had been the cause of her unhappiness. So I hadn’t fought for her.
A month had passed since we last spoke and my chest tightened each time this last memory of her entered my thoughts. I looked back on that day and only saw regret—regret for getting close to her, regret for calling the redhead, regret for letting Alexis walk out of my life. Part of me wished that I had fought for her, but I was also glad that I hadn’t. I was never a good idea for her. She knew it, and I knew it. Letting her go was the best thing I could do for her.
***
I opened my eyes slowly as the morning light filtered through my lids. I moaned as I turned to my bedside table and saw my alarm clock. It was 9:27 a.m.
Argh, why was I up? It was Sunday—one of those lazy Sundays that were perfect for sleeping in after I kindly kicked a girl out of my bed and suggested that she go home. They were over for sex, not for cuddling. But for some reason, I couldn’t seem to sleep in this morning. Something felt missing in my bed, almost as if I was missing my left arm. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but I knew something just didn’t quite feel right.
I finally got up from bed, unable to fall back asleep and feeling like shit. I looked down and realized that I had a hard-on. I wondered what I was dreaming about before I woke up.
I looked at my alarm clock again. 9:32 a.m. Shit. I felt antsy and in a funk and I needed to get out of my apartment. I picked up my phone and texted someone that I knew would probably be up at this time on a Sunday.
Hey Emma. Wanna grab some coffee this morning?
Emma was the only female friend I had that I’d never slept with. I met her when she was having some issues with her boyfriend—now fiancé—and she had needed a shoulder to lean on. Since then we had became close friends. Recently, she’d been busy with her wedding plans so I hadn’t seen her much.
My phone beeped. Emma texted back already.
Hi sweetie! Yes, let’s grab coffee and catch up. I’m at the farmers’ market at the Ferry Building. Wanna meet at Blue Bottle Coffee? 10:30 a.m.?
I texted back.
Perfect! See you at 10:30.
I went to the bathroom and jumped into the shower. I stood there in the shower, eyes closed, as hot pellets of waters cascaded down my face. My hand mechanically pumped up and down my hard-on, hoping that it would alleviate the funk that I was in. After a minute, my body spasm and I grunted as I rubbed out the erection. As I rinsed off, I tried to wash off the nagging feeling that seemed to have gripped onto me all morning.
I was unsuccessful and the funk remained.
Coffee will do the trick, I convinced myself.
I took the BART and got off at the Embarcadero Station, and by 10:25 a.m., I was walking through the doors of the Ferry Building. I waded through the hustle and bustle of the usually-busy Sunday crowd and found Emma standing near the line at Blue Bottle Coffee.
“Hey!” Emma said as she gave me a hug when she saw me. “How are you?”
“Hey hun. I’m good, you?”
“I’ve been great! I haven’t seen you in a while. How are things?”
“Yeah, I’ve been a little busy. Just busy with the bar. The same ol’.”
Emma cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows as she looked up at me.
“What?”
“Something’s different about you.” Her narrowed her eyes as she studied me.
“Why do you say that?” Shit, do women have some sort of sixth sense or something?
“I don’t know,” she said slowly as she scrunched her face. “You just don’t seem like your normal self. You seem … a little down, which is something I’ve never seen from you.”
“Oh. Well, I do feel like I’m in a funk, but I don’t know why.”
She gasped. “Is it a girl?! Oh my God. Do you have a girlfriend and you haven’t even told me?”
“Come on. You know I don’t do relationships,” I scoffed.
“Hmm. I don’t believe you. What’s her name?”
“Alexis,” I heard myself blurt out.
“Yay!” Emma started clapping her hands in glee. “Oh my God, when can I meet her? Damian? A girlfriend? I won’t believe it until I see it for myself!”
“She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s been a month since I haven’t talked to her.”
“Okay, I don’t get it then. You have seen her in a month. So are you not interested in her?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know.” I rubbed my face in frustration. “There’s something wrong with me when I’m with her. It’s like I want something more when I’m with her. I feel different when I’m with her, and I have all these weird feelings that are new to me. And I only feel it when I’m around her.”
“You mean, you like her,” Emma said matter-of-factly. She leaned back against her hair and laughed. “Wow, I like this girl already.”
“Well don’t get too happy. I think she hates me now.”
“What? What did you do? Tell me everything!”
Normally I would have said nothing. I never talked about girls after I’m done with them. But this time it was different. I wanted to talk about Alexis. I didn’t want to be done with her. So for the next hour, I told Emma everything, from how we met, to the night we met again at Damian’s, to our dates, to the day she walked in on me with the redhead.
“Damian! What the hell?” Emma screamed when I got to the part about the redhead. “You’re 27 years old. You can’t keep sleeping around like this forever.”
“What?” I asked defensively. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She shook her head disapprovingly. “Do you really believe that?”
I shrugged.
“Damian. I’m only saying this because I care about you as a friend. This Alexis girl sounds amazing, and she sounds amazing for you. She seems to call you out on your bullshit and keep you on your toes. Plus, I see the way your eyes light up when you talk about her. You’re whipped.”
“I’m not!” I automatically denied.
Emma simply smiled and gave a knowing nodded. “You are. If you weren’t whipped, you wouldn’t be so miserable right now.”
I looked away, knowing she had a point. I didn’t feel like I was the same guy I was before Alexis entered my life. Something had happened. I’d somehow changed. Because when she was in my life, everything around me seemed rosier and brighter—almost as if someone had brushed a tint of dazzling color into everything I saw. Everything around me was more brilliant and crisp—I felt more alive.
“Maybe you’re right,” I finally said. “I do like this girl a lot, more so than I’m willing to admit.”
“Then tell her that, Damian!”
“But ...”
“But what?” she demanded with an incredulous look on her face. “W
hat is it that could possibly be preventing you from telling her something you know she wants to hear, something you actually feel, something that will make you not this miserable mess that is sitting in front of me now? What is it?”
“I—” unable to respond. “How?”
“What do you mean how?”
“Like, what do I do? Commitment is not in my vocabulary, so I just don’t know what I’m suppose to be doing.” I felt agitated and conflicted.
Emma laughed. “What do you want to do, Damian? Do you want her back? Do you want her to be a part of your life? Would you care if she found someone else?”
“No! I don’t want her with someone else,” I said quickly, before I knew I even felt this way.
“Then you need to go and ask for her forgiveness and commit to her.”
“Commit?” I glanced at her doubtfully. “But—”
“No buts, Damian! Yes, commit! Commitment may not be a word you’re familiar with, but if you want a girl like Alexis to stay in your life and not end up with another guy, you need to add a few new words to your vocabulary, starting with commitment.”
Could Emma be right? Do I really like Alexis? And even if I do, am I willing to commit to her? These thoughts raced through my mind long after my coffee with Emma.
Instead of taking the BART back home, I decided to walk the three miles back to my apartment in the Mission. My mind was racing with thoughts of Alexis, and I needed time to think about things.
Halfway home, my eyes spotted something in one of the shop windows. It was a ceramic boutique that sold handmade pottery pieces. In the far back corner of the shop was an elderly woman throwing a bowl on a potter’s wheel. At that moment, I knew I missed Alexis. I knew I wanted to hear Alexis’s voice. I knew I wanted to see her again. I took my phone out of my pocket and immediately dialed her number.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. And on the fourth time, I thought it would certainly go to voicemail.
But it didn’t. She picked up.
“Hey,” came her tentative voice.
The second I heard her sweet voice, I knew I made the right decision to call her. I knew at that very second that she was what was missing in my life, that she was the reason for the void that I felt in the last month I’d lived without her, that she was the reason why things didn’t feel right with any of the girls I’d slept with since the day I’d met her.
“Hey Alex. It’s me.”
There was a pause on the other end and for a second, I thought the call had been disconnected. Then I heard the faint sound of her breathing and realized she was still there.
What is she thinking? Can she really be this upset with me that she’s not going to talk to me?
“Are you still upset over what happened?” I asked. “It’s not a big deal,” I continued. The moment I heard the last words that came out of my mouth, I immediately regretted it.
As if to confirm my mistake, the line went silent, and this time, I knew that she had hung up on me.
I dialed her number again.
No answer.
Shit. Why had I said that? I felt annoyed with myself.
Emma was right, I really liked this girl. She was different and I wanted more from her than I’d wanted from anyone else. I knew I had to do something drastic, something out of character to get her to talk to me again. I wondered what she was doing. I wondered who she was doing, and the second I imagined her with another man, I was consumed with rage.
By the time I walked through the front door of my apartment building, thoughts of Alexis with another man was driving me crazy. Images of her fucking another man flashed before my mind and I knew I had to stop that from happening. Like an itch I couldn’t stop scratching, getting her back was all that I could do and think about. I raced up the stairs, and instead of heading to my apartment on the sixth floor, I stopped on the second floor. It’s Sunday. She might be home! I just need to talk to her!
I knocked on the door and heard rustling inside.
When she opened the door, I could tell she was surprised the see me. She also looked like she had recently been crying.
“Damian, why are you here?” I could hear the pain in her voice.
“I just want to talk, Alex.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said softly as she started to close the door on me.
I pressed my hand against door frame. “I miss you, Alex.”
I saw her pause at my words. “Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” she murmured.
“But I do mean it.” I was surprised by the emotion in my voice. “Look, Alex. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I …” I paused as I searched her face, hoping she could give me a sign and let me know if I was going the right direction.
But her face was blank as she looked at me. So I continued. “I thought I wanted someone or something like me, someone who was only in it for sex, someone who was cocky, someone who cared for no one but herself. And at a moment of weakness, I freaked out and gave in to the fear of being with someone who is nothing like me, someone who wants more from me than I’m used to, someone who makes me want to be a better person every time I’m around her. Someone like you.”
I saw her face soften but she remained silent. Her silence propelled me to continue talking, to fill the emptiness between us.
“I was scared of how much I had started to care for you in the short time we had known each other. I was scared of how much I was changing because of you. I was scared of how I had started to want different things. I had started to think about a future with someone in it—with you in it, and that scared the hell out of me.”
“Damian,” she finally said. “I don’t want to be with someone who questions whether I should be the person they want to be with. I’ve already had a boyfriend—who I was with for four years, who loved me for four years—cheat on me and break my heart. I don’t need another. I don’t want to be with someone who is scared of being with me. I don’t want to be in a relationship where every day I wonder if they’ll get cold feet and run out on me.”
She was right.
I sighed. “Look,” I began. “There’s a reason I’m not great at this intimacy and commitment thing.” Even saying the words seemed painful and poisonous. But then I looked into her eyes. I saw the emotion and innocence in them. I knew right then that she wasn’t my mother, and we weren’t my parents.
“What is it?”
“I—” I didn’t want to talk about it. It was too painful and I had buried those emotions for far too long. I didn’t want to open up old wounds. But by the look in her eyes, I knew I had to tell her. I knew that if I wanted to keep her in my life, if I wanted her to stay, I needed to open up to her.
But as I was about to tell her, I resisted and remained silent.
“Can you tell me one thing?” she said as she looked down at her feet.
“What is it?”
“Will we make it?” All of a sudden, I saw the tears stream down her face.
“What?”
“If we try this again, are we going to make it?” she asked, her voice shaky, but louder this time.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” I said honestly.
She looked away from me and I knew that was the wrong answer.
I sighed. “Look, I like you, Alex.” I took her hands in mine and pulled them toward my chest. Her hands were limb against my hold, but she didn’t pull away. “I can’t predict the future. But I do want to be with you, and I do want us to make it. And for the first time in my life, I want to see where things can go with us. That has to count for something right?”
“So you want to be in a real relationship with me?” I could hear the hope in her voice.
I looked away from her, realizing I hadn’t really thought about this in detail. “I’m … I’m not sure I know what a real relationship is.”
She looked at me with pained eyes. “Then what is it that you want, Damian?”
“I—I don’t know. I’ve never had t
o deal with this before.”
“Well that’s not good enough.” There was a mixture of anguish and anger in her voice. “You broke my heart, Damian. You broke what we had when I walked in on you naked with that girl. I can’t be with someone that doesn’t know what he wants, not when I’ve given you a chance before!”
When I heard her words and saw the look on her face, my heart sank. I knew she was serious. I knew that I may have lost her for good.
“Alex.” A sharp pain twisted inside my chest and I tried to steady my emotions as I desperately waded through my thoughts. “I really want to give this another try. What do you want from me? What can I do?”
She looked at me in disbelief. “If you don’t know the answer to that, then …”
“Alex, please. Please give me something.” There was a pleading tone in my voice that seemed so unnatural and out of character.
“Damian, I want someone who’s not scared to be in a relationship, who’s not afraid to express their emotions. If you want another chance with me, I want you to do something spontaneous, something silly to show me you care. A grand gesture, an expression of love, if you will.”
I looked at her, surprised by the directness of her request. “But you know that’s not me.”
“You asked me what I wanted. That’s what I want.”
“What if I give you a key to my apartment? That’s a gesture, right?”
She looked at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding right?”
“No. I wasn’t.” I looked at her uncertainly and then sighed. “Alex, I’m just not sure I have all that to give.”
“Then I don’t know what else to say.” She looked hurt and disappointed. “You know what I want now. Do with it what you want, but I need to get going.”
Before I could say another word, she closed her front door and left me staring at the door frame, lost for words.
As I walked slowly to my apartment, I knew that there was something different here, that my feelings for this girl was different, that there was something here that I actually wanted, that there was something here that I could actually lose—something I didn’t want to lose.