‘Then talk to me, tell me what’s going on in here.’ He lets go with one hand and gently taps my forehead, moving a stray hair away from my face and tucks its highlighted blondness behind my ear softly, his face close enough to me that I can breathe his air. His proximity is soothing, even if it makes it impossible to dodge that intense look.
‘I can’t… I don’t even know anymore.’ I cry hopelessly some more, as his strong arms find their way back around me snugly, comforting me and making me feel safe. That aching loneliness dispersing like it always does when I am with him. The only time that deep throb of nothing actually gives me a break in life.
‘Are you still seeing your therapist?’ He nudges me with his forehead to make me look up at him and I do so obediently, automatically, without thought. On some level, he still has the ability to make me obey him anyway, even if it is only subtle things like this.
I shake my head and wait on the next bout of lectures that I know are coming. I haven’t been in months because I simply don’t think it helps anymore; I feel like it has done all it can for me and we’re just rehashing the same old shit. I want to move on from the past and leave it in my wake, not talk it over and keep it fresh in my broken head. Arrick frowns at me again, opens his mouth to speak but then thinks better of it, sighing again.
‘We need you back Mimmo. Whatever this is that you’re going through. You’re not alone. We all love you and want to see you get out of whatever this is. Drinking, getting high and partying your days away with random men, day in and out, is doing nothing but harm to you Sophie. I can’t stand seeing you this way and I can’t always be there the next time some asshole takes a pop at you.’ His words are soft and almost pleading, still nestling me against him tenderly. For the first time in weeks I feel like I can just breathe and be still.
His words make me flinch, gut aching with the familiar pang of guilt he always makes me feel when faced with my behaviour. Except now, instead of defensively biting back that I’m doing nothing wrong; I can’t deny I agree.
‘I know.’ I answer back, a new onslaught of soft tears which have risen to the surface and make their way down my face. Arrick brushes them away with his thumb, focusing on my eyes gently, boring into my soul.
‘Talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking.’ He nudges me again softly, his tone soothing. It doesn’t take much coaxing for that verbal pain to spew out when he has me this way. Malleable and easy to coax, half drunk and torn with fragility.
‘I’m so tired of this life and tired of just feeling empty inside. I want things to be different, I want to be different!’ I drag in a heavy breath and pull back the verge of hysterical tears that rears its ugly head from deep down. Arrick smooths more hair from my face, calming the internal stormy waves as he regards me solemnly. Absorbing my words, his own face showing signs of wavering emotion as his eyes glaze a little too. Hurt because I’m hurting.
‘I’m ashamed of who I have become.’ The hysteria breaks loose with the shame of what I admit, tears and wracking sobs envelope me with the final rush of words, letting it out in one steady swoop. Arrick pulls me closer still, gently stroking my arm and comforting me. Realising that I am covered in goosebumps, he lets me go as he slides off his jacket and drapes it around my naked shoulders, cuddling me back in again to his chest in a bid to calm me down and warm me. I hadn’t even noticed I was cold.
‘The girl I know is still in there, still capable of finding her way back out.’ His voice is low and husky, emotion obvious and as gentle as the Arrick I have always known and loved. This is the boy who held me tight through tears after every day of court against my father, giving me the strength to face him head on; who held my hand and drove me to counselling for years on end and stayed ever present when I couldn’t face it alone. This is the boy who took me under his wing and became the steady shield and solid foundation I had so desperately needed in my life. This has been the missing force of late and his reappearance changes everything.
‘I don’t know how to get back.’ Another bout of heartfelt sobbing leaks out, as though a tap has been left open, but Arrick holds me tight, anchoring me. Being my steady ground and solid rock once more.
‘That’s why you have me. No matter what you go through, I’ll never leave you to deal with it alone. I’m here Sophie, take from me what you need, you know I will move mountains for you Mimmo.’ Arrick tilts back his shoulders and head to see me better, lifts my chin to him once more, so much seriousness in that gentle frown of his. Those eyes trained on me intensely and they just break down all of my defences.
‘Tell me what you need.’
There is silence while I compose myself, slowly tangling my fingers in the hem of his jacket and curling myself into that strong hard chest. Taking my cues from him, knowing this is long overdue and just needing this more than air right now.
‘I want to stop feeling like my life is worthless. I want to have some sort of purpose. A reason to get up and be.’ I wipe my face with cold fingers, steadying my emotions as best I can, calming down now that he is really listening to me for the first time in so long. That someone is listening to me. Someone who genuinely cares.
‘Then we need to figure out how we can do that. Come home with me and we can sober you up and talk properly at my place. You know I’ll be there to help you through this, I’ve always been here Sophie and I always will be.’ He tries to smooth back my hair again, but this time I push back from him, pulling myself away. Sudden fire in my belly sparking at his words, a tiny little knee jerk bite at something so small, because deep down it just hasn’t been true of late.
‘We’re not the same anymore. You and I…. You have Natasha now, and I always feel like I’m in the way, or excess to needs. Yeah, you come for me when I’m drunk or being dumb, and deposit me like a good girl back at Ambers apartment, Arrick. But when was the last time we hung out, or just talked about stuff? You are moving on without me and I’m being left behind in the aftermath. How long before you’re too busy to help me and I’m left back on my own again?’ I wipe my tears with his jacket sleeve this time and sniff back harder, full on outburst of simmering anger and bruised tears.
‘I know Natasha hates you talking to me, she thinks I’m some annoying kid who monopolises your life and I barely see you anymore, unless I get smashed and need you to rescue me. Why do you think I call you?…Of all people? Not my brothers or sister, not Emma or even Jake; not my parents! It’s the only way I can guarantee you will see me alone, without her there.’ I lash out angrier, tears stopping in my throat to be replaced with niggling rage that has been festering under the surface all this time. It is all coming out now that drink has pushed away my inhibitions and I am venting at him.
This has been an aching pain in my chest for almost eighteen months, as he has slowly drifted away within the first throws of his first committed relationship, and a life in the city that didn’t include me. I have been losing him slowly and surely, and it has contributed in part to why I started dating so many men. Trying to find someone for me, someone that would care about me as much as he always did. I want someone to make me feel the way he does, when he’s around; safe, loved, secure and like I’m home.
‘That’s not true.’ Arrick makes to pull me back to him, but I step further away. Slapping his hands away childishly, immature me peeking out to show face.
‘Name one time in the last year, or more, that you called me to just talk or to hang out? One time that you have been near me while I was sober, and not in need of rescuing? And I don’t mean the party invites or when we run into each other!’ I raise my palms accusingly, draped in the oversized jacket on my slender frame that makes me appear ridiculously small right now. Arrick frowns, considering my question for a moment and then frowns harder as he tries to recall even one moment from the past year, that hasn’t been a call to collect me drunk, or a time when he wasn’t with Natasha and I had been invited to some group thing. He inclines his head to the side as though really digging for an e
xample, and then sighs with the realisation that I am right.
Even his birthday party at his own home last year had been monopolised with guests and he had probably spent all of ten minutes throughout the whole night with me before I had gone and thrown a stupid, immature, drunken temper tantrum, and my drink, at Natasha, because of it. It had ended in the usual tears and arguments and he had made me go home.
‘I’m sorry Soph’s, I guess I just never realised I was letting you down, leaving you alone. It’s not easy to juggle you and Tasha when you don’t get on. I can’t have you in the same place without some sort of snide cat fight and she’s with me most of the time.’ Arrick slides his hands into his pockets of his black jeans, his grey t-shirt moulding to that formidable body as he regards me. His posture cooling my jets and my fire a little, bringing back that self-pity I despise so much.
‘I miss you. I miss us.’ I sniff again, heart bursting with genuine sadness and losing all other emotion; this time I don’t move when he steps forward back against me, catching his jacket so he can tug me closer to him again. He stops me level with his body, a tiny gap between us, leaning in again and regards me for a long, silent, moment.
‘I’m still here, still care about you as much as I always did. I just need you to come back to all of us Soph’s. Calm down the reckless behaviour and wild partying. Come home, make things right with the people who love you and give me a chance to fix things between us. If you’re not out, going hellcat Leila style, then I promise I will have more time for you. I’ll figure things out to make sure I’m here for you. I’ll help you get through all of this, if you just let me in. I Promise.’ Arrick gazes deeply into my eyes, hazel depths making me feel calmer, like he always does. All doubt, anger and every other tiny exhausting feeling, ready to just dissipate and overwhelming tiredness setting in instead.
‘And if Natasha doesn’t like it?’ I pout, feeling deflation setting in with the very real chance that Natasha won’t let this happen. The girl has never openly said anything to suggest she wants me out of his life, doesn’t openly act like she does, but I can tell she hates my existence.
‘No matter what you have told yourself about her Soph’s, you’re wrong! She doesn’t dislike you, she feels for you, and she just wants you to get help. She would never stop me from seeing you. All this stuff about her is in your head, she’s never pressured me about you, she knows what our relationship is.’ Arrick smooths the lingering tears from my cheeks with his thumb, pulling my face close to his chest by cupping my jaw. Nestled against him, listening to the steady strong thud of his heartbeat, where it’s so easy just to let it all go.
‘I need help Arry. I am so tired all the time. I’m struggling and I just want things to get better.’ More tears fall freely down my face, but not with any real sense of anything, just tumbling out because they can, completely lost right now and just floundering in life. Hopeless.
‘Then I’ll do whatever is needed Mimmo. The first step will be getting you back in the middle of the people who genuinely love you and will take care of you, away from these idiots you surround yourself with, who never seem to be there when you’re at your most vulnerable. I’m taking you home with me tonight, and then tomorrow…… Home to your family. You need to trust me that it’s the best place to go if you really want to fix things.’ He pulls my face to tilt back up to him, so he can study my reaction. I am just too tired, both physically and emotionally to argue. I just want to stay here like this with him for an eternity and go back to how it used to be. I just want him back in my life in a more permanent way, back in that place of smiles and laughter and feeling like my life is everything I want it to be.
‘You promise?’ I sound fragile and childlike, my voice croaks with emotion, some genuine relief that maybe I am not going to go on being alone for much longer. It had been self-engineered when I ran away, but going back has proven harder than staying alone. Arrick is taking away the fear and my choice. Things I have been too afraid to attempt myself and too stubborn to even admit I want until now. A part of me feels a sense of hope.
‘I swear by the power of the fist bump.’ He grins at me, lightening the moment with his jokey humour, holding out his fist in the old gesture we used to use when making deals. He looks suddenly so young and cute, like the boy who melted my heart and made me trust him so long ago. I bump him back softly, without hesitation, curling my fist to match his, a sense of relief moving over me as I sigh down emotions once more. My heart filling with warmth and a sense of complete relief.
Scrutinising him a little harder, I lift my pinkie up between us in a childish manner, chewing on my lip as though to alert him to the serious nature of my gesture. Sophie of old. Reverting to form when faced with the familiar Arrick of old. I have missed this version of him. Young and carefree, acting like my age was never an issue between us.
‘This level of commitment requires a much more important shake.’ I smile coyly, inside hoping that this isn’t just a spur of the moment decision and he actually means it. I grin when Arrick latches his pinkie in mine, looks completely serious too and shakes gently. Not forgetting the importance of this deal maker between us for an age of time.
‘Pinkie promise is pretty much the most unbreakable bond known to man.’ He smiles, that unguarded Hollywood special that he reserves for rare occasions and dazzles all the doubt left from within me away. All signs of anger dissipated between us and just two young kids, like we always were, standing in the dark, making pacts. We have done this a million times before, but never with the weight of this particular promise and never in connection to something so very important.
‘Means neither of us can break our word, on our lives Arry.’ I look up at him in wide eyed trust, knowing that if he said he would make time for me, that he would help me, then he would. Arrick never makes empty promises, never just says what you want to hear. More than anything, I need help to find my way back to some sort of normal life.
‘I’ll do anything to get you back to how you were, Mimmo. I’m still your best friend; I’ll always be there when you need me. I love you Kiddo.’
I close my eyes and move back into the circle of his arms, feeling a slight tremor of hope that maybe I can get through this with a little help from the only person who ever seems to be able to find me in the dark. Sighing against him and returning to that sweet familiar place that is more healing than any amount of therapy.
‘I love you more.’
Chapter 2
‘Sit.’ Arrick pushes me down on the long mink coloured fabric couch and then scoops down to unbuckle my shoes. I sink down, obediently, lifting cold aching legs as warm hands encircle my ankles and he slides down to rest himself on his own thighs. Lifting one foot at a time onto his knee, he unlatches me from my self-inflicted restraints and sets my burning feet free. I swear I love my shoes, but sometimes they just kill me. Whoever said fashion isn’t pain, is a liar. He takes my shoes and moves off to lay them on the floor, pulling his jacket from my shoulders and throwing it towards one of the armchairs.
‘Thanks.’ I grin at him sleepily, more than aware he is only doing it as I moaned every step of the way from his car to the elevator about the pain I was enduring, my tiredness, my inability to stand being upright anymore and then used him like a crutch while standing in the slow ass thing. I did ask him to piggy back me to the couch but he just dragged me ungracefully by the hand instead, and told me I was getting to suffer for being dumb enough to get so drunk.
‘I’ll get you something to change into, you can take your hooker look off while we talk.; He throws me that mildly sarcastic smile and walks off towards his room with a backward smirk. I scowl after him, not amused that he’s insulting Dior, and Jimmy Choo in one fowl breath; which is sacrilege according to the fashion gods and I hope a serious fashion ‘no-no’ inflicts his overly precise wardrobe choices. Like maybe a red flannel lumberjack shirt with mustard corduroys.
Leaving me to slide onto my back on his long comfy couch, I spread
out lazily. So glad to be finally in a calm and quiet setting with a soft, safe place to lay down. I sigh in relief and lift my hands in the air to stretch out my limbs. Feeling very much like a cat who has been allowed back into its favourite sleeping spot to languish contentedly. I feel so much better than I have been, internally still and pretty much stone cold sober now.
Arrick reappears in seconds, carrying a t-shirt and a pair of shorts for me, both will probably drown me, but I can’t resist the thought of comfy baggy clothes to lounge around in right now. It’s not exactly comfortable being in my clubbing attire, confined in sexy tightness, where I must watch every movement for fear of exposing something he doesn’t want to see. I take them from him, still laying down and watch him walk off to the kitchen until I lose sight of him, due to the back rest of the chair obscuring the view.
‘Don’t look, I’m stripping here.’ I call out. Hearing the clanging of mugs as he starts rifling around to make coffee and turns on his stupidly expensive machine.
‘I’m facing the other way… Knock yourself out.’ He calls back and I take a peek up to double check. Seeing only the back of his dark t-shirt clad shoulders as he leans in to fill the coffee maker. The strong neck and short hair that just makes him super appealing from this angle.
I struggle and shimmy quickly to get my top and skirt off, while staying laid down, I pull the others on quickly. Picking up my discarded clothes and tossing them towards the nearby armchair where his jacket already sits. It feels better to be loosely dressed, although without the tight confines of the top and being braless, it feels a little too loose and breezy. I roll onto my stomach, pulling in one of his suede cushions below me and stretch out, laying my head down on the side of my face and sinking in contentedly, sighing heavily and just inhaling the familiar smells of this apartment.
‘All done.’ I yell out and get no response, another stretch up, and peek from my strained position sees him crouching down with his head in a cupboard, looking for something and flop back down to leave him to it. I can hear more noise as he does whatever he’s doing, clattering, banging and such, and finally the percolating splutters of his machine starting up.
The Carrero Heart_Beginning_Arrick and Sophie Page 5