Waking to Black

by V. H. Luis

  I turn and slowly move toward Victoria. Even though I’m in heels, she towers above me. “Maybe they did, Victoria. Maybe I was so out of my mind that for my own safety and that of the staff they had to make sure I couldn’t move. Now, do you really want to fuck with someone not all there?” I stand in front of her, my expression calm, though I’m anything but in control. I’m a hairsbreadth away from lunging forward and claw out her crystal-blue eyes.

  She takes a hesitant step back. “You don’t deserve him.”

  “Mind your own damn business.”

  “He is my business.”

  Lillian Black’s voice breaks through the air like the snapping of a whip. “Victoria, go back to the party.”

  Victoria’s face crumples. “I was just…”

  “I know what you were doing.” Mrs. Black moves toward me. “Evelyn, walk with me.”

  The way she speaks makes it clear she’s not asking me a question, but voicing a command. At the moment, I could care less. I need to get far away from Victoria, because if not I’ll attack her—I’ll make a scene.

  Giving Victoria a final glance, I turn to follow Mrs. Black, who’s already moved ahead. She leads me back to the ballroom though instead of intermingling with party guests, we climb some steps, making our way to a secluded terrace.

  “I’ve found out some interesting facts about you, Miss Snowe.”

  I lick my dry lips and nod. “I imagine Miss Chase was more than happy to supply you with these facts.”

  She shakes her head. “It was I who informed her. Though I never expected she would be foolish enough to confront you herself.”

  “How…” I swallow, pushing past the tightening of my throat. “How could you know anything about me? I only met you yesterday.”

  “As you grow older you’ll find that life is all about who you know.”

  Her eyes narrow as she watches me and under the weight of her scrutinizing stare I find it hard to stay still. “You are quite beautiful, I can see why my son is taken with you.” She pauses and shrugs. “But you’ll soon realize, if you’ve naught already, men are very fickle.”

  She combs her fingers through her blonde locks while peering down at the dance floor. “Don’t they look good together?”

  I place a hand on the rail, and focus my gaze in her direction. Adam is standing at the edge of the dance floor talking with a group of men as Victoria approaches him.

  She’s only a few inches shorter than him. Her complexion is pale and perfect. Victoria places a hand on his forearm, bracing herself as she stands on her toes and whispers something in his ear. Adam shakes his head, and though his body doesn’t lean into the sway of hers, he doesn’t pull away from her touch. She says something and then everyone in the group laughs, including Adam.

  They do look right together, like connecting pieces in a puzzle. I don’t belong here; throughout the course of the night I’ve felt out of place, and as I watch them I know why.

  The words of Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof echo in my head. Adam is a bird and I’m a fish. It doesn’t matter that I love him, because our worlds are too different to reconcile. I will never be accepted by the people in his life.

  “I normally wouldn’t interfere in his affairs,” Mrs. Black says. “I mean, Adam usually beds women and then tosses them aside. However, he’s clearly enamored with you, and though he’ll bore soon enough, by then the damage will be done. He did this once before.”

  “Serena Welsh,” I murmur.

  “He spoke of her?” A derisive chuckle seeps out of her lips. “They were childhood friends and fell in love in college. She was studying music as he was. I tried to discourage him from pursuing that degree, from being with her, but he wouldn’t listen. That woman nearly tore my family apart. She broke his heart.”

  “I won’t do that,” I whisper.

  Mrs. Black stiffens and an emotion I’m not familiar with crosses her face. “As an architect, I’ve spent my life imagining buildings, constructing countless structures and making something beautiful out of ideas. I’m sure as an artist you can relate to that sentiment.”

  Though the shift in conversation surprises me, I nod. “Yes, of course. Being an architect is the same as being an artist. You just work in another medium.”

  Mrs. Black smiles at me, and though the action seems genuine, the way her eyes narrow makes a chill run down my body.

  “I have built many stunning things throughout the years. However, the greatest example of my artistry is my son. Raising him, helping him become the man he is today is my best accomplishment. One day, when you become a mother you’ll understand what I’m feeling.”

  She takes a step forward, invading my space. The pleasant smell of her perfume contrasts with the acidity of her words.

  “Would you want your son to get involved with a woman who tried to kill herself? Who spent months in a hospital for treatment for God only knows what type of issues? I’m sure you’re a lovely girl, but you’re not the right girl for my son.”

  Her words are like a jagged knife plunging into my heart—they knock the wind out of me. Everything she says confirms the fears I’ve been harboring for weeks.

  I want to speak in my defense, but nothing comes out. I felt rage when Victoria was insulting me, but in the company of Lillian Black, I’m numb. Her relation to Adam intimidates me; she’s his mother, and I’m only the woman he’s currently bedding. Even though I’m already defeated, she continues to speak.

  “I have to look out for him when he’s too blind to realize the mistakes he’s making.”

  I shake my head and focus on her, because I want her to see the sincerity in mine. “I love your son. The last thing I want to do is hurt him.”

  Her features are like ice; my words don’t provoke even the smallest of cracks.

  “Then walk away. Being with you will damage his reputation, potentially hurting his business associations. People will talk.”

  “He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who cares about what people will say.” A tear escapes my eyes. I lean against the arch, shielding myself from the view of others.

  She sighs in apparent annoyance. It’s obvious Mrs. Black, like Adam, is used to getting what she wants with no questions asked.

  “He may not care what people will say, but you will. I’m trying to save you embarrassment. How do you think I found out about your situation?”

  I blink a few times at the change of topic. “I don’t care,” I mutter, because the truth is, I’m terrified. Did she find someone from my past? How much does she know?

  “As we speak, a story is being written on you and Adam. The only reason it hasn’t been published yet is because I know the editor. If you honestly care for him, spare him the humiliation.” She grabs my hand and shifts me so I’m once again looking at the ballroom. “The people in this room are his business associates. Believe me when I tell you they care about appearances. Dating you will only close doors for him.”

  I press my cold hands against my flushed cheeks as I think. A thousand ideas hit me at once. If the people at school find out about my past I could lose my job. I take care of kids, and parents aren’t forgiving when it comes to those who are entrusted with the wellbeing of their children. I can hear them now. How can she take care of our kids if she can’t take care of herself?

  What could this article do to Tina? She vouched for me so I could get the job. Could she lose her job because of it? Would the people at work lose respect for her and no longer value her opinions?

  Oh shit! My mother! She’s already ashamed enough that her daughter tried to kill herself. If her business associates found out, she would be mortified.

  What about Adam? Would he grow to regret being with me? Would the weeks we spent together be tainted by my past mistakes?

  The revelations of what this article could mean to me and all the people I love is too much to take. I’m filled with resignation as I speak. “If the article is already going to be published, what’s the point? The damage is
already done.”

  “Your relationship is new and therefore unimportant. Fade away like the diversion you were meant to be and there won’t be a story to tell. End it tonight and no one else needs to know the details about your past, not even Adam.”

  Mrs. Black turns, her hips swaying with grace as she saunters off, showing not even the smallest hint of remorse. This entire conversation has been insignificant to her—a means to an end.

  Finally alone, the tears stream down my cheeks. Adam knows I have a past, and in the solitude of his apartment I’m sure it’s not a concern, but if being with me hurts his business dealings he’ll turn his back on me. I wouldn’t blame him.

  The idea of having my life exposed in print petrifies me. I wipe the tears from underneath my eyes and rush down the steps. Aimlessly, I move through the lobby and head outside, and at some point I become aware of my surroundings. The courtyard is barren. Arches surround me, and a simple garden is outlined in the center. The wind brushes against me, and my nose, wet with my tears, feels cold.

  “Evelyn!” Adam looks winded as he clambers down the steps leading to the square.

  I’m pulsing with anger and relief. I hold onto the anger, because it’s the emotion that will get me through the night.

  Adam moves closer to me. When I take a step back he tilts his head to the side as a look of confusion crosses his features.

  “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” By his tone, I surmise that anger is the emotion he’s favoring as well.

  “Was this before or after your conversation with Victoria?” I circle the small garden at the center of the courtyard, lengthening the distance between us.

  “I don’t see how that matters.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I scoff.

  Adam walks on the opposite edge of the garden, his eyes following me. “Is this your solution to a problem? You get upset and disappear? You disregarded the fact that I told you not to wander off without informing me.”

  “And you were concerned?” I don’t bother to hide my sarcasm.

  “I was concerned. In fact, I spend far too much of my time worrying about you.”

  “Oh, well, excuse me. I’m sorry I’m such a bother.”

  “Is there a reason you’re acting like petulant child?” His stare is icy and his body is rigid.

  I sigh with resignation. “You said something didn’t work between you both, that she was smart and beautiful but not what you wanted. I think you’re chasing a challenge, and that’s a dangerous reason to be with someone.”

  He closes the distance between us. I want to run away, because if he touches me saying goodbye will be impossible, and I’ve already decided…I’m saying goodbye.

  “I’ve known Victoria since we were kids; our mothers are good friends.”

  I roll my eyes, and by the stiffening of his jaw I can tell his ire is rising.

  “I haven’t explained myself to anyone since I was a teenager. I’m not about to start now.” He takes a step forward, standing only a few inches away from me. “You should know by now that if I wanted to be with Victoria, I would be. As for the notion that I’m interested in a challenge, you’re right—I am. I want to be with someone who provokes me into interesting conversations, not someone who is contrary for the sake of stirring up nonexistent problems. I don’t have time for that.”

  I want to tell him how his mother accosted me, how she blatantly told me I wasn’t good enough for her son, but deep down I know walking away is the only kindness I can offer Adam. He deserves to be with someone who is his equal, and I’m not. I’m royally fucked up, and being with me can only cause him pain.

  “You two look perfect for each other. Cut from the same cloth even,” I murmur.

  “I’m assuming you’re getting to a point,” he says curtly.

  “We’re not right for each other.” I focus on the flowers in the garden, because I can’t face his scrutiny. I’ve never broken up with someone, and the idea of walking away, of returning to the black hole of my previous life, makes me feel lost.

  “Why are you doing this?” One of his hands grabs my chin and roughly tilts my head back so I’m facing him. “You’re starting a petty fight with me for no reason. What aren’t you telling me?”

  I hate how he can see through me, and yet it’s why I’ve fallen in love with him. He’s pulled more truths from me than anyone, but not today, not now.

  “Adam, you don’t really care about me. You’ve spent the evening talking to everyone but me. Sure, behind closed doors I’m interesting but here…” I spread my hands open. “I’m a novelty you’re getting tired of.” I think back to Sarah and her warning earlier. She’s right, men don’t like naïve girls.

  “If I’m getting tired of anything, it’s of your damn insecurities.” He lets go of his hold on me and turns, his hand resting on the nape of his neck as he gives me his back.

  “There are days I still think about it, about hurting myself, and I don’t think it’s a feeling I’ll ever get over. The truth is, it’s a constant struggle,” I say, hoping I can show him I’m not worth being upset over. I want Adam to think of me as a mistake, because I do love him and I don’t want to hurt him.

  Adam eyes clash with mine, his face ashen. “Evelyn…”

  “I’m going home. This isn’t going to work; it’s over,” I blurt out quickly, because my resolve is wavering. This conversation needs to end.

  I take a few steps to the left when Adam’s hands grab hold of my arms. He pushes me against a stone pillar and his gaze cold and impassive.

  “This can’t be because I had a conversation with a woman who means nothing to me,” he says incredulously. “I know when someone is running away from a problem; I’ve done it often enough. What are you keeping from me?”

  The smell of his body is intoxicating my senses, the scent and situation provoking my eyes to burn with the sting of impending tears.

  “We both knew this was a short-term liaison,” I say pointedly. “You’re only upset because I’m the one leaving first.”

  “Stop changing the subject. What the fuck are you keeping from me?”

  “Everything!”

  Adam moves back as if I have struck him. “You’re right then, it’s over. I can’t be with someone I don’t trust, and you sure as hell don’t trust me. I guess all we had between us was a couple of good fucks.”

  I want to curl into a ball right there and bawl until my eyes are swollen, until the well dries and I have nothing left. Trust is the main thing he wants from me and I have denied him that again and again. In that moment I want to tell him everything that happened throughout the night. He deserves to know the truth. “Adam…”

  “It’s my own damn fault for letting it get this far. When I found out about your past I should have ended things.”

  His expression is vacant. His voice unfamiliar; it’s cold and foreign and the distance between us makes me clam up and stay silent.

  “I almost did. When I took you to the apartment yesterday I was going to tell you it was over, but the way you reacted—you had a panic attack, your body was shaking and the expression in your eyes was so haunting… It made me want to take care of you.” He stares at the ground for a long moment. “I couldn’t turn my back on you.”

  “So what your saying is that you’ve always pitied me?” I spit out. “I don’t need your charity. It’s never been something I wanted.”

  “What the hell does it matter now?” Adam looks at me, emotionless. His hands are tucked into his pants pockets and everything about his posture screams of a person who’s indifferent.

  I’m about to respond when Victoria rushes toward us, her face more pallid than usual. She’s focused on Adam, her gaze never meeting mine.

  “You have to come now!” she sputters. “Your sister’s unconscious. We think she took something and we can’t wake her up.”

  My heart skips a few beats, as the seconds trickle by in slow motion. It’s as if the air around me is compressing. I’m goi
ng to shatter.

  How did I not see this? Sarah was crying out for help and I was too caught up in my own bullshit to notice. And then a horrible thought crosses my mind—maybe I did notice. Maybe I didn’t think twice about it, because going to that extreme, hurting myself, self-sabotaging, is natural to me. It’s my go-to instinct. I kept silent about my father’s suicide-talks, his late-night drinking binges, his emotional and psychological abuse, because I grew up thinking those conversations and experiences were normal. But they’re not.

  After years of therapy and months of being institutionalized, I’m aware society says it’s wrong to hurt yourself, yet I can’t reconcile that truth with my twisted view of free will. And now, because of my inability to understand what so many people intrinsically know—Adam’s sister might be dead.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “WHAT THE FUCK are you talking about?” Adam roars.

  Victoria is crying as she speaks. “They found her in the girl’s bathroom, foaming at the mouth as if she had a seizure. They think she took some pills. We can’t wake her up.”

  The three of us race to the main hall where a large cluster of people have congregated at the far end, by the bathroom entrance. Adam shoves his way through the crowd, while Victoria and I follow.

  Sarah is lying on the floor, gray vomit covering her delicate face, and her mother, a woman who is obviously known for her impeccable appearance, is a mess. Her mascara has run, her hair is tousled, and her gown is full of wrinkles.

  I focus on Adam, and he’s the epitome of composure, ready to do everything and anything to make sure this incident is a hiccup in his baby sister’s life. In seconds he’s on the phone, and in less than five minutes the throng of ogling bystanders is dissipated by personnel he’s no doubt commanded to do his bidding. However, a flicker of worry is in those cobalt eyes. It’s an expression only those who know him would understand.

  Is this how my mother acted when I tried to kill myself? Was Tina composed or was she crying? Seeing Sarah on the floor, floods me with emotions—emotions I’ve repressed for years.