On top of that, I’d really like to get laid, even if I don’t have an orgasm. Just feeling him being part of who I am would be comforting. After our last tryst, though, I don’t think he’s going to be too keen on banging me again for pleasure anytime soon.
To feed my frenzy, I’ve printed out one of his photographs with his bare chest from his online photo album. I had no guilt whatsoever using the color printer at the office to do so. I cut it to size and hid it underneath my mouse pad on my desk. When I’m feeling lonely, I lift the corner up and drool over him, get lost in his dark eyes, and wonder if I’ll ever seen him again in the flesh.
Then it happens. I get caught one day gawking at him with tears in my eyes, and everything turns upside down. Julie catches me in the act.
“What’s this?” She grabs the picture right from under the pad. “Ooh, nice picture. Great body.”
Swiftly, I try to snatch the photo back. “Yeah, great body.” I miss it, I think to myself.
“I thought that you broke up with him, right?”
“Well,” I say, looking at the image and crying inside. “We’re taking a break.”
“Let me see that again,” she says, snatching it back.
“Do you mind?” My voice is terse, but she’s staring at the picture and poking her finger at it.
“I could swear I saw this guy last weekend.”
“Where?” I blurt out. Suddenly, I’m a captive audience.
“At that Italian Restaurant a couple of blocks down on Fourth. I was there with my boyfriend having dinner.”
She looks at me with a smug look like she’s one up on me having a date. “Oh, that’s nice.” My scatterbrained answer makes me feel insecure when I see Julie’s face.
“I don’t know if I should tell you or not.”
“Tell me what?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes, tell me.” I grab her arm and give it a little squeeze.
“He was having dinner with a really pretty blonde.”
My heart flies out of my chest and plops upon my desk bleeding. Instantly, I close my eyes and see him with another woman. I’m shocked.
“Were…were they friendly?” My eyes plead for the right answer.
“Oh, yeah, friendly, all right. I noticed them right away, because she giggled really loud over something he must have said. I turned and looked over at their table, and he was holding her hand and smiling.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m devastated. I can’t breathe. “Excuse me,” I rashly say, rising to my feet.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
My mouth is wired shut. I take the picture away from her and run off to the ladies’ room. My eyes are stinging with tears. “You fool,” I berate myself under my breath. “You damn fool.” I knew it would end this way. It always does. Hurt and rejection.
My hand pushes the restroom door open with a bang, and I run for the nearest stall and lock myself inside. I head bang against the door as I lose control over my emotions.
When I hear someone else enter and get into the stall next to me. I back up to the toilet, lower my pants, and have a seat. I might as well sit down and get it out of my system. I stay there for a few minutes, numb and remorseful that I pushed him away. The flushing of the water next to me reminds me of my life. I’m back in the commode again. After a few minutes, when the coworker leaves, I’ve made my mind up.
“Screw this,” I mumble. I pull my pants up and open the door. I look down at my hand and realize my fist has crunched Ian’s picture up into a little ball. The wastepaper basket beckons, so I throw it in and walk out the door. There is no way I can continue to look at that picture.
I pass Julie’s desk, and she glances at me, seriously concerned. As soon as I sit down, she’s back over beside me.
“Listen, Rachel, I’m so sorry. I feel terrible. Maybe you should call him. It could have been his sister or something and not some new girlfriend.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m wondering if that blonde was his ex-wife. “He doesn’t have a sister,” I mutter.
“Oh, well sorry, Rachel.”
Julie returns to her cube, and I sit and stare at my computer screen. I have a terrible urge to call Ian. The clock ticks closer to that three-thirty hour when we’ve talked before. My cell phone flies out of my purse, and I go over to the employee lounge and hit the speed dial for his number. It rings four times, and I’m trying to decide whether to leave a message or not. At last he picks up.
“Rachel.”
His caller ID alerted my arrival, no doubt. There is no excitement in his voice, but rather an awkward tone speaking a name from his past.
“Ian.”
Silence.
“Is this a bad time?” My voice quivers.
“Um, no. Hold on, while I close my office door.”
I grip the chair in front of me for support. In the background, I hear a door close. His breathing sounds heavy, and finally he speaks again.
“Hey, how have you been?”
His half-hearted question stabs me in my heart. My throat closes, but I try my best to squeak out an answer.
“Fine,” I answer in a high-pitched tone. “Been thinking about you a lot. How have you been?”
“Uh, busy, as usual. Work, you know.”
Not too busy to go out to dinner with some blonde broad, I rail inside. “Sorry,” I reply with no emotion. I’m lost for words.
“How are you? You still in counseling?” His tone sounds a tad more interested in my welfare.
“Yes.”
“Is it helping any with your issues?”
Oh, crap. Now I have issues? I bite my tongue wanting to say something snarky, but I don’t. “Yes, seems to be helping.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”
“Can I see you?” I blurt out. The ice beneath my feet is thin, and I hold my breath waiting to fall into the cold waters.
“Uh, yeah, maybe. I’ve got a pretty busy schedule this week.” His lackadaisical answer sucks.
“You don’t sound very keen on getting together.” Even I surprise myself as the words come out of my mouth. I hear a deadly silence at the other end of the line. “I guess that answers my question.” I’m about to end the call when he speaks.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just things going on in my life right now. Kind of bad timing.”
“Well, I don’t want to pressure you, Ian. Maybe all this time apart has cooled us both off. I understand. I should leave you alone.”
“How about Thursday night? I could have a quick drink with you after work. We probably should talk.”
Now I don’t know what to say. It’s obvious what the talk will be about. Nice knowing you. You’re too screwed up to be bothered with. I’ve found a normal, beautiful woman, and I’m moving on. I can hardly bring myself to agree to meet him, because I already feel the pain of rejection inside my heart.
“Having second thoughts?” he asks. My silence must have gotten to him, because I hear a pang of sadness in his voice.
“No, just afraid to see you.” I might as well admit what I’m feeling.
“If you’re not ready…”
“No, Ian. After work Thursday is fine. Meet you in the lobby of my building?”
“Sure. Like old times when we first met.”
“Yes, like old times. See you then.”
I don’t wait for him to say anything else. The call ends, and I look down at my hand. My poor fingernails are bent from grabbing the back of the chair. Instead of going back to my desk, I pull the chair out and sit down. My head buries itself in my palms as I contemplate our meeting. It’s too much to handle alone, so I call Dr. Grayson.
“You’ve reached…” Blah, blah, blah, the message plays. “It’s Rachel. I need to talk to you ASAP. I’m losing it.”
My voice cracks. I end the call, and lower my head upon the table and try to control the feeling of being out of control. Being a
woman sucks. I wish that I had been born a man, I complain to myself. Men always have the upper hand in every situation. Whatever he says, I’ll be at his mercy, whether I like it or not.
* * * *
Dr. Grayson hands me the box of tissues and patiently waits for me to blow my nose. “I feel so stupid,” I growl.
“Why?”
“I should have known this would happen!”
“I don’t think you know anything at this point, Rachel, except that you’re having a drink with him Thursday night.”
“Yeah, he’s so nice he’s going to dump me face-to-face. He’s not the telephone, text, or email type. Always treating me with kindness.”
A sly smile curls her lips, she looks down, and jots something on that damn notepad of hers. She probably penning, “Patient doesn’t have the ability to receive courteous treatment.” She lifts her eyes and looks at me after my snide remark.
“Is that another conjecture on your part, or something you’ve realized on your own?”
“He’s a man. Men leave me. Men hurt me. Men use me.”
“You must not think very highly of Ian then, if you think he’s another one in a long line of abusers.”
Now, I feel like a fool. I inhale a deep breath. “I think very highly of him.”
“Why?”
“Because he is the only man who has ever treated me with respect, except for that one night when I asked him to be someone he wasn’t.”
“Don’t you think you should give him the benefit of the doubt that he intends to continue that kind treatment, no matter what he has to talk to you about?”
My lips pull off to the side while I feel self-conscious over my overreacting. “You’re right. I’m sure if he’s found someone else, he will tell me kindly, and probably apologize profusely while doing it.”
“Have you thought about how you’ll handle that, if he does have someone else?”
“Oh, probably crawl under the table, grab his legs, and beg for him not to go.”
“You don’t really mean that, do you, Rachel?”
She narrows her eyes at me and scowls. It reminds me of my mother scolding me as a child. I sit and think about how pathetic I would look if I did act out. It will justify his need to leave the crazy lady behind, and I don’t want him to see me being unstable.
“No. I want to be mature about it. Wish him the best of luck, and leave like a gracious woman. Then I’ll go home and cry in private.”
“You know what the right thing to do is, and I have faith in you that you’ll be strong, no matter what the outcome.”
“I am not confident right now, Dr. Grayson. I’m beginning to think I should give up this counseling gig and forget about it. I was happier with my cat. Now that I realize how much I love Ian, I’m miserable.”
“I don’t think you really want to give it up, Rachel. Frankly, I think your love for this man inspired you to return and get help. You’ve come to a point of wanting a healthy relationship with a healthy man. In the end, it may not be him that you end up with. If it isn’t, by the time you meet Mr. Right, you’ll be ready to be loved and love in return.”
She’s a freaking romantic pie-in-the-sky person, and I know it. “You’re just saying that so I’ll come back next week.”
“Well, I hope you do. I’ll be interested in finding out what happened when you have your drink with Ian.”
“My Coke, you mean.”
“I hope so. Alcohol and—”
“Anti-depressants don’t mix. Yeah, I know.”
She smiles, and so do I.
Chapter 19
Painful Reunion
The week flies by and Thursday arrives. Before work, I decide to forgo a pantsuit and dress in a skirt with a matching blazer. I choose a white blouse, a few pieces of cheap jewelry, and spend more time on my hair than I usually do. It’s obvious I’m trying to impress someone. By the time five o’clock rolls around, my makeup will probably have faded, so I stick a few extra items in my bag for a quick touch-up in the ladies’ room before meeting Ian.
My nerves are on edge, and I try to remember points in my conversation with Dr. Grayson. I need to keep my emotions in check and part of me teeters on disassociating myself from the entire experience. I know if I go that far, my eyes will glaze over, and I won’t hear a thing he says. Instead, I’ll be busy constructing the brick wall so I won’t get hurt.
After blowing a breath of air from my lungs, I glance at the clock. It’s time to revive my makeup before I take the elevator of doom down to the lobby. As I glance at myself in the mirror, I appear outwardly confident, but I can see the fear in my eyes. Jesus, please help me get through this. I haven’t uttered a prayer like that in ten years.
“Okay, let’s rock,” I mutter aloud, giving myself a team rah-rah. I get into the elevator, press L, and count the stops to let on more homeward-bound workers. A few minutes later, I emerge and round the corner.
Instantly, my eyes pick him out of the crowd. I stop dead and stare for a moment. It’s been so long, and he is so handsome. Ian is dressed in a dark, pin-striped suit, with a powder blue shirt and dark-blue tie. I want to jump him, but at the same time my knees are knocking together. He turns and sees me standing there like a scare crow. Thankfully, his face brightens into a smile. I melt.
My feet propel me forward like I’m on a conveyor belt, and the next I know I’m standing in front of him. The cheeks on my face puff out, and I smile from ear to ear. “God, you look good,” I say, eyeing him up and down like a crazy woman. He gives me his classic smirk, and then leans over and kisses me on the cheek. I’m surprised.
“God, you look good too” he says.
My heart bursts forth like a stream in the desert. “So, where are we off to, law man?”
He chuckles and gives me his arm. There’s isn’t an ounce of hesitation, as I wrap myself into Ian and yank him to my side.
“How about where we had our first drink?” He looks at me with hopeful eyes.
“Sounds good.” I am slightly miffed. It seems he takes all his women to that little Italian restaurant.
We take a short walk of a few blocks. Both of us are quiet. I’m scared, but thrilled to be in his presence. I have no idea why I let this man go, and the fears that I have lost him start to haunt me as we enter the bar. It takes me a moment to adjust my eyes to the dim lighting. Ian leads me over to a secluded table, helps me into my chair, and sits down across from me.
“Boy this sure is familiar,” I say, looking at him. He’s avoiding eye contact with me. My stomach tightens.
A waitress approaches. “Coke,” I say. “Bud,” he says. Afterward, he guardedly looks at me and parts his lips with a small smile. His eyes have that familiar glimmer in them that I love.
“You really look fabulous, Rachel.”
“Thank you for the compliment. I accept.” He raises his eyebrow at me.
“Well good,” he replies. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I want to tell him that I’m feeling better about everything, but I don’t want to go down that road yet. How can I tell him the things that I’ve told my counselor?
My pop and his Bud arrive, and we both take a sip. My mouth feels like a ball of cotton, so I quickly suck the liquid through the straw. Ian remains aloof, and I try to draw him out.
“So how have you been, Ian, really?”
He lowers his eyes into his beer and clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess. Just busy.” He lifts his head and looks at me like he wants to say something, but the cat has his tongue.
“You have something to tell me, don’t you?” I’m afraid of what he’ll say, but I might as well open the door. “Go ahead.”
Ian quickly pulls his eyes away and hides in his frothy beer. “Ah, Rach,” he says, heaving a puff of air from his lungs and shaking his head. “I’m kind of confused, I guess.”
“About what?”
He brings the beer to his mouth and takes a sip. After he swallows, he bites his upper lip nervously, and the
n sheepishly raises his eyes to mine.
“My ex wants to get back together again.”
At first, I wonder if I’m hearing him correctly. His answer reverberates in my brain, and the light in my eyes disappear. My soul crawls into a fetal position, and I know what’s coming. Now, I avoid looking at him and jump into the bottom of my glass. I was right, it was Susan having dinner with him. My heart rate increases in both fear and anger.
Take charge of things, Rachel. Buck up, I tell myself. I know I have to get through this.
“Wow,” I answer, trying to keep a cheerful look on my face. “That’s a surprise.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Yeah, it was to me too. She broke up with her former boyfriend, and said she was having second thoughts about having divorced me.”
“I thought you said you were over her,” I remind him of his statement clearly announced the day we went to Multnomah Falls. I remember the look in his eyes, and I believed him.
“Well, she didn’t want me then.” He quickly replies with a lame-ass explanation.
“And now she does, so now you’re not over her?” I’m sounding miffed. “Sorry, I just don’t get it.” My mouth pulls to one side of my face, showing my disapproval.
He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, and then takes another drink of beer. “Like I said, I’m confused.”
“Have you been dating her again?” I already know the answer, but I want to see if he fesses up.
He nods his head. “Yeah, we’ve had a couple of dinners out and have done other stuff together.”
Other stuff. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Has he done her? My nails dig into my palms of my clenched fists. I want to slap some sense into his confused pretty little head.
“Define other stuff,” I press, sounding annoyed.
“Not here,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s ashamed to mention it in public. He avoids looking at me.
I shake my head in disbelief. “You don’t need to articulate the other stuff, Ian. I get the picture.”
He doesn’t affirm or deny. His silence really irks me now.
“Well, I guess then if you’re confused, I’ll call it a night. No use sticking around where I’m not wanted.”
Conflicting Hearts Page 17