by V. Theia
She grabbed her purse and left me on her couch contemplating if I wanted to watch Wendy Williams today or The View. I DVRed both so I’m spoiled for choice while I sulked in my unhappiness.
I could do some work. I have clients waiting on me.
For more than thirty minutes I sat holding my phone. The moment I switched it on it went nuts. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
Every text message Noah sent appeared on the locked screen.
None mention Tom. All displayed concern and wanted to know where I was. Some ranged from how he’d kill me if I didn’t get in touch to; Please, baby. Pick up the phone. Tell me where you are, I’ll come.
Baby. Baby. The endearment mocked since he’s only ever used it a few times before during sex.
I had zero control over the speed in which my heart accelerated.
I was an idiot clinging to hope.
There’s a few messages from momma but I’d wisely told them I was under a deadline so not to expect to hear from me.
I soaked up his words like they’re fresh air. I couldn’t help myself.
He’s a drug and I haven’t had a fix in days. I absorbed them in, taking them through the eyes and savored with my whole body.
Love wasn’t a choice for me.
It’s not even a conscious decision.
It happened and now I’m caught in its web.
Please, baby. Pick up the phone. Tell me where you are, I’ll come.
Before I could censor my feelings, I thumbed out a message in the long text thread I have with Noah.
SouthernBelle: I’m fine.
Worst lie in history.
TWO
Sometimes coffee was as necessary to the body as chugging air.
My body at least.
It’s the reason I got out of India’s apartment when all I wanted to do was wallow on the sofa and re-watch junk TV and contemplate just how I’m going to break it to my momma and dad they’re going to be grandparents.
They’re not conservative but there’s never been a moment of my life they made it known they’d prefer me to be an unwed, single mom.
So yeah, I kept right on putting together that conversation in my mind as I walked to the corner coffee shop.
It’s like being punched in the boob when I saw a familiar tall figure step out of a yellow cab.
The fucking universe hated my guts.
Seriously. I must have been a hateful person in a past life.
There’s not a microsecond for my feet to swerve me away from seeing Tom climbing out of the back of the cab. Ultra-tall with his lanky frame, brown skin, long gray overcoat and a scarf around his neck, no doubt designer and worth more than my entire outfit I’m wearing right now.
For a second, I thought about hurling my hot coffee at him until——
He wasn’t alone in the back of that yellow cab.
Oh, god.
My heart pitched.
Straight up puked into my chest as I watched Noah follow him out.
He looked so incredible that for a second my whole body froze right there on the sidewalk. My eyes raked him like I hadn’t seen him in months.
I felt an instant smile tug my mouth for a second. My joy seeing him melted into a cold puddle when he stepped up to Tom.
Both smiled at each other.
I wanted to vomit.
Oh, it hurt so bad.
My fingers became lax around the cup and the want of the caffeine was all but dust in my mouth. A startling surge of dreaded realization came back full force and I’m rooted to the floor.
People milled around my prone self, obviously pissed off a crazy woman stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
But I heard nothing but the rushing of blood in my ears.
I couldn’t drag myself away. There’s no chance I could look away.
I needed to see this, and I did it grinding my teeth to halt the rising scream in my throat.
It’s like it happened all in slow motion.
Watching Noah lean in, his frame slightly taller than Tom’s. His shaved head and impeccable dark clothes were a gorgeous contrast for the supermodel in all his gorgeous glory. I fucking hate that guy.
And when Noah used two hands to grasp behind Tom’s neck and draw him forward It was obvious what would come next.
He’d kissed me in that same domineering way lots of times.
Noah was a type A controlling guy and I loved it.
My dead heart cried.
They kissed right there on the sidewalk. It’s no peck, either. It’s hungry, needful, an owning kiss.
A kiss shared between well-established lovers who knew what the other liked.
I swear, despite the heavy traffic and the millions of voices on the street I caught the throaty moan Noah released when he’s excited.
I heard it, felt it vibrate through my chest wall and it killed me.
It fucking killed me.
The smiles they shared were nuclear when their mouths finally parted, foreheads together. It might be a month later, I don’t know. Only someone jostled into my shoulder, mumbled an apology but I didn’t care.
I was unable to look away though I knew wetness tracked down my face.
I didn’t drag my gaze away, forcing my eyes to stay on the man I love with the man he apparently loved as their hands locked together and they set off down Tenth Avenue in the direction of one of Noah’s clubs.
At least I knew now, was my lasting thought as I watched their steps sync.
They were together. And in love.
Just like that I accepted it, with my heart torn open and emotions pouring out onto the New York street, I saw the truth.
The pit in my stomach clenched tighter.
I was nothing and dickdouche was the one.
Fuck you and your long eyelashes, Tom. Seriously, screw you.
While I wanted to scream at Noah, to demand he loved me like that.
To adore me in the same way, I let him walk away.
I’ve lost.
Worse still, I’ve lost him. I couldn’t continue to be in his life now.
I won’t be on the fringes and pretend I’m happy for him. I’m not fucking happy.
Sena.
Sena.
I turned, forcing my feet to carry me away.
Sena, babe.
But then Tom turned unexpectedly.
Not only looked over his shoulder but narrowed his gaze directly at me.
Among hundreds, he saw me.
And winked.
His regard flickered over me like I was shit under his studded Valentino brogues, his expression completely smug.
The dickdouche smirked and mouthed I win.
Sena. Sena. Sena, come on.
It’s the force of my murderous rage bubbling inside me and India shaking my shoulder that woke me from the nightmare.
Holy shit.
Seriously. Holy shit. Talk about my subconscious messing me up.
Dream rejection hurt just as real rejection.
“Finally. You were mumbling in your sleep.” India said, concerned. I rubbed my face and rolled to a sitting position on the sofa. I’d fallen asleep there last night, I remember now, watching Brief Encounter.
Ugh. While I acknowledged it was a dream and Noah declaring his love for Tom with his tongue shoved into his mouth didn’t happen, those same emotions lingered. Considering I’m dripping in excessive hormones I’m oddly calmed about the whole thing. I glanced at my phone and saw more messages from Noah just checking how I am. I brushed it aside.
“Sorry if I woke you.” Stretching, I found my feet, testing how my stomach felt today. So far so good.
“Are you working today?”
Unfortunately, I am. “Yep. All day. Meet for lunch?”
We arranged a time and went our separate ways.
~*~*~
There’s something abstractly cathartic about being on the streets of Manhattan and seeing every other person going on with their lives like they don�
�t even know how shitty I feel inside.
I put clothes on this morning. Yay. I showered and even had a camomile tea. I brushed my hair and turned on my phone. Life goes on. I don’t have the luxury of hiding forever, I’m not a Kardashian, a fact of which I still resented.
Every day noises greeted me out on the street. The daily grind of people and I wondered how were they going on with their fucking lives when my heart was bruised? How is it they’re able to laugh and drink mocha lattes when all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry for a week.
The silence scraped against my skin and I quickly grabbed my phone from my satchel, pressing the music app I played the first song that I saw to fill the silence. Thank you, Niall Horan. I hated it being so quiet even walled by the relentless hum of New York. It’s like the sadness seeped through the noise and mirrored how I’m feeling.
Though I’m due to work in five minutes, there’s no way I can go inside the building just yet, not when I have the lack of food shakes in my hands.
Between the morning sickness and feeling like day old crap I’ve barely eaten anything in days. I rummaged in my purse, there was always snacks loitering in the bottom.
I forced down a bag of salted chips, the food did the trick giving something for my belly to work on.
Adulting sucked when all I wanted to do was sofa-dwell all day.
The need to call Noah was so strong I had to physically stop from reaching to the call button. I’m not ready yet. Not ready for him to burst me open even more. He must be confused as fuck, since I haven’t given him a reason for my disappearing act.
That’s not me. I’m not that cruel person to ghost someone. But from his messages I see he can guess my absence has something to do with him.
He wanted me to let him explain.
It’s not what I think.
Isn’t it? Isn’t what I saw exactly what my brain tortured me with?
That Noah can never be what I want from him because he’s fucking gay and probably in love with a man who doesn’t and never will deserve that love. All the while I’m on the side lines being his best friend and pining myself into an early grave.
Oh, yeah, and just proving fate was a special brand of twisted whore I have a baby in my belly.
I’m in a perpetual state of confused, terrified numbness and really? Can I be a mother alone? I’m not a victim. I was a willing participant in everything.
There’s no one to blame only lessons learned.
It was me who did the lying.
I convinced myself he could love me how I needed to be loved, how a woman deserves to be loved.
I talked myself into it, ignoring the obvious glaring fucking signs that it was impossible.
But the cold won’t leave me, it’s like my world dimmed and I can’t find the switch to turn the sun back on. I’m cold all the time, not just physically, though that has more to do with the New York weather attacking the city lately leaving everything drab and gray.
I avoided seeing smiling people by keeping my head down while I finished a soda, music cranked to the highest in my ears.
Why should others be happy when I’m miserable?
Then I was instantly regretful for my spiteful thoughts.
Just my luck karma was waiting to kick my ass with more bad juju for wishing ill to others.
It’s selfish to expect the world to stop living and loving because my heart was broken into pieces and I’m being extra.
The cracks too deep, I felt air blowing through reminding me just how dumb I’ve been.
Taking a calming breath, I pushed through the revolving door leading me into a huge foyer overstuffed with tall plants, modern art and uncomfortable stools with two elevators down the very end. The squeak of my shoes echoed in that this is a very expensive space, so I should whisper way.
I gave my name at the reception desk to the girl who watched me from the moment I stepped up to her station with a patronizing stare as if she assumed I was there to wash the windows.
She was wearing a headset delicately over her ear, bright purple eyeshadow right up to the bone of her eyelid with gold streaks on the outer edges. I had a moment of make-up envy.
She’s new since the last time I was here, and her name badge said Trish.
It takes another woman to recognize the expression on Trish’s face as she swept her gaze up and down my attire while she typed my name one handed on her computer. I know what she’s thinking. I’m a woman in jeggings, a simple white, no-brand long-sleeve shirt under a pink hoodie top and white Vans.
I’m being sized up by purple shadow Trish like she expected me to whip out a begging bowl.
Any other day I would have smiled sweetly and charmed her with my southern drawl and pleasant nature. I would have asked how her day was and complimented her Marvel toy collection. Today I just stared and waited for her to give me my clearance pass to get me up to the eleventh floor.
I wasn’t there to make friends with purple-eyed receptionist snobs. I pressed for the elevator, my work bag heavy on my shoulder and I plugged my earbuds back in, this time to listen to Sara Bareilles singing about being Brave until I arrived upstairs.
For the fact I liked eating and paying bills I would have ignored the message in my email. And because I worked for Gray Ellison regularly I didn’t want to cancel on him. Loyal clients were hard to come by and I didn’t want to pass up a good paying job because I couldn’t shake my mood. This was adult life, we carried on regardless.
Heartache and sulking would wait.
Pressing a hand over my chest, I wondered if the pain would end.
I’m hollow yet so heavy with the emotion I wouldn’t allow to leak out.
Work distracted my mind to another place, a better stress-free place.
Computer work allowed me to do something I’m good at, there’s no thinking when I’m fixing to find holes, if there is any, in Gray’s security system and making sure his processors are up to the speed he needs for his online shopping conglomerate.
I’m not a wrecked woman while I worked.
I’m capable and the person that gets shit done.
I permitted Noah into my head just for a second, because hello, weak, and I was swamped with feelings.
What was he doing?
Was he eating okay?
Sometimes he forgets because he’s driven by his business. Stupid to worry about him when he probably had his boy toy to bring him Panera bread every hour on the hour, with his pleading eyes and that self-righteous smirk plastered on every goddamn billboard in the city.
My throat constricted so hard I struggled to swallow.
Reaching for a sip of the now cold decaf-coffee I’d bought from a food stand down on the sixth floor, it does what was intended and allowed me a minute to pull myself together.
Boy toy. Right.
Tom was more like the closest thing Noah came to caring for anyone romantically it seemed at the time, his longest relationship before that strutting jackass cheated. What do I know? Maybe Noah did fall in love with him.
After all, why let a dickdouche back in your life once he’d gotten oral with some other queer?
Regardless of my own skin in this fight, Tom decided his relationship wasn’t special enough once before when he cheated on a man like Noah Fierro so that meant he didn’t deserve the breath god afforded him.
I hate that guy.
I realized I was obsessing over a moronic man who probably never gave me a second thought, ever.
But I can’t help it, let’s call it pregnancy madness and leave it at that because I hate him more for the fact Noah gave feelings to him.
Yeah, I sound jealous as hell.
I could maybe get over losing the physical with Noah, but it broke my heart if I were honest that he’s giving Tom his emotional time. If not for the cheating would they have been together this whole time? Possibly married and living in the Hamptons.
Life moved forward, even when I didn’t want it to and I had a bigger reason t
han just a man to get back to normal.
My wounds were someone else’s lesson.
What would I tell them?
Maybe not to fall in love with your gay best friend.
That would be a good start.
But I can’t regret it. Love wasn’t to blame for my own stupidity.
I loved loving Noah, even unrequited, it served a purpose in my life, it’s filled a hole for years and that was my own doing, my eyes were open.
Work for Gray Ellison kept me busy for hours.
And when I was ready to leave I made a snap decision to get out of the city just for two nights since my schedule was mostly at-home work.
To clear my head.
To really put some thought into this baby situation because so far, I’ve been a selfish, self centered cow and unlike a mother to be at all, what with my constant introspective moaning. I should be thinking only of my future now, of being a mom and how the fuck I’m going to be a mom.
Not to hide. I mentally rolled my eyes. And my lies kept right on coming.
Some people you grieve over forever.
Some losses aren’t easily mended by time.
It’s irrelevant if that person was living or dead. The loss was the same.
To forget Noah; it just doesn’t exist.
I know just the place I can go for peace and thinking.
It’s empty.
And it’s free.
And Noah wouldn’t think to look for me there.
I’m not running away, I told myself as I packed a light bag before sending India a text message letting her know I was sorry for missing our lunch date and I’d see her in a few days.
This wasn’t me running away. It wasn’t.
I’m a grown-ass adult who fancied a couple of days in the Hamptons.
So, what if it coincided with my sudden life crisis.
Several hours later I used the spare key I’ve had forever to let myself into Noah’s luxury seven-bedroom Hamptons gated home.
THREE
I think I needed a Magic 8 ball to tell me what to do with my life.
It was around hour seven of my Buffy marathon I figured Magic 8 would have all the answers. Back when I was in fourth grade I didn’t do a thing for a full month without consulting the great and powerful M8.