The Day to Remember (Emma's Story)

by Wood, Jessica

  I looked into him pleading eyes and my heart broke. I knew I couldn’t be with him. I would be becoming the person I hate for so long—the other woman who took my father away from me. I could not do that to an innocent child. I knew it was irrational to think this way, but I thought this way nonetheless.

  “I’m sorry, Brandon. I just can’t. I need to go now.” Sadness overwhelmed me at the thought of letting him go, but I knew that the longer I stayed with him, the harder it would be.

  “Emma,” he held onto me, his grip firm and unwavering. “I love you. Please know that I have made a lot of mistakes with us, but telling you that I love you was not one of them. Please hold on to that. Just think about it.”

  I nodded. I didn’t mean it, but I couldn’t see him hurt anymore. I saw a cab approaching and I raised my arm to hail it down.

  “Goodbye, Brandon.” I gave him one last hug, holding in all my feelings inside.

  “Emma … please think about it,” he whispered in my ear.

  I got into the cab without saying another word. I waved a goodbye to him as the car pulled away. He stood there, looking at me in shock.

  When he was finally out of sight, I sobbed. I sobbed for everything I just lost. I sobbed for everything I will never have.

  ***

  By the time the cab dropped me off at my place, I was drenched and cold. My body felt numb. My emotions were all over the place, and I was not myself. The initial anger I had felt when Brandon told me about everything he was hiding had returned.

  How could he have had sex with Des? Was he lying to me now when he says he has no feelings for her? Could you really stop loving someone after loving them for eight years? After they were there for you? After they pulled you out of the depths of a tragedy? Could you not love someone who is the mother of your child?

  I felt my thoughts spinning out of control. I shook my head violently, trying to stop the thoughts from circling in my mind. “Does it even matter? I can never be with him. Does it even fucking matter?” I cried out loud. I was filled with rage at this point. I was angry at Brandon, angry at Des, and angry at my father.

  In frustration, I threw my purse across the room; it hit against the edge of the coffee table and the contents spewed out onto the floor.

  Of the contents, a thin piece of paper caught my attention—the thin paper coaster with Damian’s number on it.

  Without thinking, I ran over and picked up the coaster. I didn’t know why, but at this moment, I felt reckless. I felt irrational. A part of me wanted to hurt Brandon the way he had hurt me. The other part of me just wanted all the pain to go away, no matter the consequences. All signed pointed to Damian.

  I dialed the number and Damian picked up after the third ring.

  “Hello?” came a husky voice.

  “Hi. Is this Damian?”

  “The one and only. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Emma. I was at your bar on Saturday night. You gave me your number.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember you. The hot blonde with the boyfriend issue.”

  “There’s no boyfriend,” I said flatly.

  “Oh,” there was a pause. “Sorry. So why are you calling?”

  “I can’t be alone right now. I was wondering—Can I come over now? I need a distraction,” I heard myself blurt out.

  “Sounds like you’ve had a rough day. Sure, come over.”

  I scribbled down his address. Then I took a quick shower, threw on a nice top and jeans, and applied some makeup to mask the puffiness that was developing around my eyes. I knew that this wasn’t like me. The normal Emma wouldn’t call some random guy and go over to his place in the middle of the night. But tonight, I didn’t care. The last thing I wanted to be, was me.

  I looked at myself in the mirror, and felt a pang of guilt. “You need to let him go. You need a distraction right now. You need someone to help ease this pain,” I tried to reassure myself.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, I found myself standing at the front door of Damian’s place in the Mission District. My heart was pounding and I was nervous. My heartache was temporarily replaced with a thrill I never felt before.

  The door opened, and there stood Damian—shirtless, and flashing me his signature, wicked smile. My eyes immediately focused on the elaborate dragon tattoo across his chest.

  “Hey gorgeous.” He pulled me into him—pressing me against his hard, bronze chest—and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hi,” I said breathlessly. I need this distraction, I reminded myself.

  “So what’s up? Want a drink?” he said as he headed to the kitchen.

  “God, yes,” I said.

  “What’s your poison?”

  “Whatever’s strong enough to numb out the pain,” I blurted out.

  He laughed. “That bad, eh?”

  I knew coming here wasn’t a good idea, but tonight, I didn’t care. I spent my entire life playing it safe, waiting for the one to give my all to, and where did that get me? Nowhere. All I got in return was a lot of heartache.

  “Here you go,” he said handing me shot.

  “What is it?” I asked as he held out his own shot.

  “It’s my version of an I.V.—Italian Valium. It’s got Amaretto and Bacardi 151 instead of the normal Amaretto and gin mix,” he explained.

  “Oh.”

  “You said you wanted it strong,” he said with a smirk. “That will get you where you want to go—a place without pain.”

  “Thanks.” I raised my shot glass towards his, “To bad choices,” I said.

  He laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”

  I downed my shot and winced as the alcohol burned its way down my throat. “Can you make me another one?” I said as I put down my shot glass.

  Damian looked at me in amusement, “You’re not one to take things slow, are you?”

  “Not tonight,” I challenged, feeling the liquor courage course through my veins.

  Damian made us another round of I.V. shots.

  “To a numbing existence,” I said as I downed the second shot, which went down a little easier than the first.

  “Another,” I demanded.

  “Here, I’ll make you a mix drink, and we can just hang.”

  What are you doing here? a tiny voice said inside my head. “Um. No. Thanks, Damian. I shouldn’t be here. I should get going.”

  “Oh? Do you have somewhere to go?” he asked, giving me a sidelong glance.

  His question was like salt on a fresh wound. “No … no, actually. I don’t,” I said defiantly.

  “So stay.” He gave me a look that both excited and scared me. You’re playing with fire, the tiny voice warned me. I didn’t have to know this man long to know that he was reckless, wild, and carefree. Normally, he would be the type of guy I would stay far away from. He was trouble.

  But at this moment, that was exactly what I wanted—what I needed.

  “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  “So, tough day?” he asked as he fixed me a mixed drink.

  “You can say that. I don’t really want to talk about it though.” I walked over to his couch. I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol and needed to sit down.

  “Here you go.” Damian handed me my drink and sat down next to me on the couch. I felt his shorts rub against my thigh and felt a spark of excitement at the contact.

  He turned his body towards me and looked at me. My eyes darted between his intense, blue eyes and his hard muscular chest. I flushed when I saw him catching me admiring his body.

  “Blushing is a sign of a good girl,” Damian teased.

  “No, I’m not blushing,” I said defensively. “It’s just the alcohol.”

  “Ahh, right.” He was unconvinced. “So, what made you decide to call me?”

  “I … I needed a distraction.” I realized how offensive that may have sounded, and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I just …”

  He laughed. “No need to explain. I get it. You’re looking for
a fun time.” He gave me a sinful smile and reached over and brushed his finger along my jawline, sending goose bumps down my arms. “And I’m a lot of fun.”

  “Are you going to kiss me?” I heard myself ask out loud. I then cringed at how stupid I must have sounded.

  He leaned towards me and whispered in my ear, “Well that’s up to you.” He lingered near my face and I could feel his hot breath against my ear and down my neck. “What would you like to do?”

  “I …” my voice trailed off. A small part of me wanted to kiss him, wanted to think about something else besides Brandon.

  He didn’t wait for me to decide. Before I could register what was happening, his lips were on mine, sucking and tasting my lips and tongue like an expert.

  I heard myself left out a moan, and a wave of guilt washed over me. I quickly pushed it away—I’m here to not think about Brandon. With that thought, I pulled Damian closer towards me and kissed him back with force and desperation. I thought maybe, just maybe, the more contact I felt from Damian, the less I would be tormented by thoughts of Brandon.

  Damian responded as only he could. In one swift movement, he was on top of me and laid my back onto the couch. He anchored himself on top of me with one hand as his mouth continued to explore mine, the other hand glided its way under my shirt and effortlessly unhooked my bra strap. Within seconds, his rough hands cupped and kneaded my breast. Then all my clothes were off and on the floor.

  “Fuck, your body is amazing,” he growled as he admired me with lust-filled eyes. “The things I can do to you.”

  Nerves started to worked their way through my drunken stupor as I saw him take off his shorts, revealing his long and hard erection.

  The second his naked body was on top of mine, I knew everything was all wrong. I knew I didn’t want to do this—no matter how much I was upset with Brandon, no matter how much pain I wanted to escape from. This just wasn’t me.

  “Stop!” I cried.

  “What the fuck?” Damian jumped off of me, confused at what just happened.

  “I … I can’t do this. I—” I wasn’t sure what to say.

  Damian laughed and shook his head, “You’re a fucking tease, you know that? A hot fucking tease.”

  I looked at him in disbelief. “Why are you laughing? You’re not upset?”

  “Well, I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t want to fuck you tonight. But, no. I’m not upset. Like I said at the bar the other night, you’re not a bad girl. You’re just going through some shit.”

  “I’m sorry, Damian.” I broke into a sob as I thought about everything that had happened earlier tonight.

  “Hey, hey. This apartment is a no-cry zone. Don’t cry. We don’t have to have sex,” he teased. “Honestly, I’m surprise you’ve gone this far.”

  “Oh.” I looked at him in surprise. “Damian, you’re actually a nice guy.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be fooled. I’m not a nice guy. But I’m also not a guy who will force someone to do something they don’t want to do. I’ll rock your world if you want me to. But if you don’t want the best sex of your life, no hard feelings. There’s plenty of girls who will.”

  I giggled, and then sighed. “Thanks for cheering me up.”

  “No problem. So what do you want to do then?” He gave me a wicked smile.

  “Well, first, I should put on my clothes,” I said as I picked up my clothes from the floor.

  “That’s unfortunate,” he teased.

  “Do you mind if I sleep—just sleep—with you tonight? I just don’t want to be alone,” I admitted.

  “Not a problem. Hey, I’ll be right back,” he said as he got up from the couch.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Bathroom to jack off,” he said matter-of-factly. Then he looked at me and then at his erection. “This shit doesn’t go down on its own, so if we’re not having sex tonight, I’ll have to put it to bed.” He laughed at his joke.

  “Oh,” I said.

  My eyes followed his gaze and saw his rock, hard erection and quickly looked away. My face was hot with embarrassment.

  He laughed. “Again, good girl,” he said as he pointed a finger at me.

  I stared in shock after him as he walked completely naked towards the backroom.

  He laughed when he noticed the shocked look on my face. “What can I say? I’m what you’d call a man-whore.” With that, he closed the bathroom door behind him and jacked off.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brandon

  A few weeks have passed since the night Emma told me about her secret. It was the last thing I had expected from that night. I knew secrets would be revealed, but I thought I was the only one revealing them, not her.

  My heart went out to her when she told me about her past. I saw the pain in her eyes and I would have done anything to take it away for her. But I was powerless to change her past, just as I was powerless to change my present—to change what happened with Des.

  Going into that night, I knew our relationship hung in the balance. I knew that my mistake with Des and my lies would jeopardize my relationship with Emma, and I had planned for any possible response Emma could have had when she heard the news. I thought I was prepared to tackle all of the possibilities to make sure we would remain together. What I didn’t expect was her past and how it played into the consequences of my mistake with Des. What I didn’t expect was to lose Emma, and to lose myself in the process.

  During the weeks after that night in the rain, I did not give up on Emma. I thought that she just needed time to digest the information about Des’s pregnancy, much like I did when I first found out. I thought that after a week or so, she would come around, we would work things out, and we would get back to normal.

  But that didn’t happen.

  I tried calling her and texting her, but she wouldn’t pick up. I stopped by her workstation once at work, and she told me not to bring in our personal issues into work or she would be forced to quit. After that day, I stopped bothering her at work. But I continued calling and texting. She continued to not respond to me.

  Finally one night, I couldn’t sleep. I felt an overwhelming need to see her and talk to her. Like a crazed man, I went to her place at three in the morning and rung the buzzer to her building. To my surprise, she picked up the buzzer.

  “Hello?” Her voice sounded groggy. I must have awoken her.

  “Emma, I need to see you,” I begged.

  “Brandon?” The groggy was immediately gone from her voice.

  “Yes, can you let me in?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea … I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Emma, please? I just don’t understand why we can’t be together. I’m not with Des. I’ll always take care of the baby regardless of who I’m with.” Why couldn’t she understand that?

  “Brandon, I don’t expect you to understand this, but I hope you can respect my wishes on this. Please let me go. Please let us go,” she said softly.

  “But I can’t let you do this. We love each other. I know this is not what you want.”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “Brandon, I’ve moved on,” she said coldly.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I’m with someone else now. His name’s Damian. Please accept that we’re over. Good night.”

  I heard her click off. I leaned my head against the intercom, my mind reeling from what she had just said.

  She’s with someone else now? Damian? Wasn’t he the guy she met at the bar when she called me in L.A.?

  My chest ached at the news. Could it be true? Could she really have moved on so quickly?

  I went back home with a heavier heart. That night, I did not fall asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Emma

  It was three weeks since that night in the rain, the night my relationship with Brandon ended, the night my chances of the fairy tale ending with the man of my dreams shattered into a million pieces.

&nbs
p; Brandon had tried to contact me a number of times since then, but I had managed to avoid most of his efforts. At work, I only saw him once a week at the weekly status conferences. But other than that, he had respected my wishes to be left alone, and had not approached me at work. While I was relieved, another part of me secretly wished that he would stop by and see me. That part of me desperately wanted to know how he was doing and what was going on in his life.

  The last time he had tried contacting me was in the middle of the night last week. I was fast asleep when my buzzer went off. In my half-awake state, I answered the buzzer. It was Brandon. I knew I had to hurt him in order for him to let me go, in order for both of us to move on. I needed to move on, because each time he contacted me, a tiny piece of irrational hope fluttered into my heart, and each time, I was left devastated when I thought about the unborn child. So I lied to him. I told him that I had moved on. It had killed me to imagine how much that would have hurt him, but I knew that it was better than the prolonged pain of false hope we both shared.

  I told the girls about our breakup, but only the part about Des being pregnant. I never told the girls—not even Jill—about my father. It had been a secret I have kept buried and locked in a deep vault inside me. I wouldn’t have told Brandon if he hadn’t pushed at a time where I was so vulnerable and wounded that I had to tell him. It was the one thing that I was ashamed of, the one thing I could never change about myself, and the one thing I hated about my life.

  I occasionally hung out with Damian. Steph was right, he was a good distraction. He was wild and carefree, and when I was with him, I didn’t have to think or feel. I never had sex with him though. I just couldn’t. Damian seemed fine with that, but he was open with the fact that he was sleeping with other women. That was fine with me. I just needed someone to keep my mind off Brandon—to keep my heart frozen and numbed from pain.

  But even with Damian keeping me busy, there were still moments where I would get a wave of longing for Brandon so strong, I found it difficult to draw breath.