Elizabeth and I spent the rest of the day sitting around her house. We fell asleep in the middle of watching some boring-ass movie. I woke up around three a.m., with Elizabeth leaned against me, peacefully asleep. I sat perfectly still and let her rest. The next couple weeks were likely to be difficult for her—she was alone now in an empty house.
She’d promised to be there for me, so I decided to reciprocate that promise. I’d do my damnedest not only to be there but also to be a pleasant companion. I knew she understood what my broody silences meant. She shouldn’t have to deal with my unhappiness.
And for a while, it seemed to work. I did everything I could not to think of…I didn’t even let myself think her name. When I dreamed about her, I ripped myself out of bed and forced myself to think of something else, anything else. Sometimes I went running in the middle of the night.
I bought music for my phone and found the headphones that had come with it. Metallica blaring in my ears helped drown my thoughts or, perhaps, beat them down with noise. I started having headaches, but if anything, that was helpful. It was harder to think through the pain.
Sometimes, especially in the middle of the night, I went to that church. It had to be the only church whose doors were still always open—most churches seemed to mean that figuratively, not literally.
When I sat on a pew and looked up at the cross, my mind calmed for a little while.
The woman I’d seen before, apparently some kind of caretaker, came out to say hello sometimes, always with that bright smile. From a distance, the shadows obscured her face, but I could always see her smile. She never asked why I came in the middle of the night, why I never came to services. She only greeted and told me to take all the time I wanted. And once in awhile, I came in the afternoon, just so I could hear her sing. Eventually, her songs were “The First Noel” and “Silent Night.”
One of my journal entries ended up focusing on her, the only person other than Elizabeth who I saw on a regular basis. That got me to thinking.
The next day, I went to the church and talked with the woman for a few minutes. Her name was Estelle, and she’d been cleaning the church for over forty years, before most of this area had even been built. Then I asked if I could write something about her and try to sell it to one of the local papers. She said she didn’t see why anyone would like to read it but that she didn’t mind.
Within a week, I had a short article written and sold.
I contacted someone I used to know at The Times Union, someone I used to work with a lot back when I did freelance for a living. He seemed happy to hear from me.
I decided I’d do some more articles like that, not for the money, obviously, but to help keep my thoughts focused. I started to wonder if maybe I could actually move forward, not just pretend for Elizabeth’s sake. Maybe I wouldn’t have to push Elizabeth away in order to save her from my hell, and maybe my life wouldn’t be so fucking hard. I couldn’t quite catch a vision of it, couldn’t quite imagine what I’d feel if somehow I stripped off my yearning for the auburn-haired girl. I wasn’t sure what I’d have left, what would be left of me. But maybe I could find all that along the way.
Writing and research ate up my days. My eyes stopped being bloodshot all the time, and Elizabeth told me I was looking better.
Now if I could just make the dreams stop.
Chapter 41
What Might Help
Maybe I could let Kimber hate me without hating myself.
I meditated on that idea for a while. Perhaps it was just the hope of the season that was affecting me. I hadn’t properly celebrated Christmas in a long time, but I loved the season, or at least I used to. This year I really tried to absorb it. I helped Elizabeth put up a tree and went shopping with her. I even bought a couple of gifts.
“So, um, are you going to get something for Penny?”
Elizabeth and I were at Best Buy so she could pick out a new laptop for Rachel.
“I don’t know.” I moved on and looked at tablets.
Elizabeth followed. “Maybe you should send her a letter or something, just let her know you’re okay.”
I turned on one of the tablets. “Is she still calling you?”
She hesitated. “Yes, but she stopped asking me to get you to call her. She just asks how you’re doing.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That you’re doing better.”
“Then she can stop worrying.” I walked around to the other side of the display.
“She needs to hear it from you.”
I wasn’t sure when Elizabeth had become so sympathetic toward Penny. I wasn’t about to argue with her, especially about this.
I really wasn’t sure what to think about Penny. I wasn’t even sure how mad I was anymore. Thoughts of her inevitably led to thoughts of how we parted, of why. That was a banned subject in my head. There seemed to be a lot of those subjects.
“You should get one of those,” Elizabeth eventually said.
I looked up. “Get one of what?”
She pointed at the iPad in front of me. “How do you do your research without a computer?”
“There’s this place with lots of books and even a few computers called a library.”
She rolled her eyes. “Smart ass.”
I did buy an iPad. She was right—I needed to move into this century. And maybe it could help in my efforts to focus. The library wasn’t always open, and the middle of the night was when I most needed to think about other things.
But I also realized it shouldn’t be this hard. I should be able to get through one night’s sleep peacefully. The days I seemed to be getting through okay—Elizabeth seemed happy with my progress—but the nights…hurt.
Finally, I decided what might help, what had helped after Cassie was gone.
After I loaded our bags into my trunk, I sat in the driver’s seat.
Elizabeth took the seat next to me. “I feel bad leaving you alone.”
“Like you said, I’m doing better.” I put the car in gear and backed out of the space.
“Are you sure you won’t come?”
“Spending Christmas with your cousins, whom you barely know, isn’t my idea of fun.” Rachel had mentioned to her that she wanted to see a white Christmas, so Elizabeth was taking her to see family in Pennsylvania.
“I know,” she said. “I just—”
“You worry too much.” I looked over at her. “I’ll be fine, Elizabeth.” And besides, it was probably wiser to try my new plan with her out of town. I wasn’t sure she’d understand, and I didn’t want her to know I was still having a hard time.
Elizabeth left the next day, the day before Christmas Eve. That night, I showered and changed into the jeans and button-down shirt she’d given me. If this plan worked out, I’d have to buy more clothes.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I had a hard time seeing what everyone else saw.
The clothes fit well, especially across my chest and shoulders, and I smelled nice—I’d bought some cologne, the same kind I used to wear. The scent reminded me of the days when getting laid three or four times a day was normal. I almost couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that almost a year had passed since I last had sex. I planned to put a stop to my abstinence tonight.
Chapter 42
The Dance Floor
I got in my car and drove toward Philips Highway. At first, I thought my discomfort was nerves, though this wasn’t the kind of thing I usually got nervous about—getting laid was easy.
While I sat in the parking lot, I realized what my problem was.
Guilt.
That pissed me off.
She had decided to leave—and had made it incredibly clear how she felt about me. I was free to do what I wanted, to fuck as many women as I could. I couldn’t be expected to abide by my decision to commit to her when she didn’t want me.
Dammit, Heath, get in there and go home with the first woman who rubs up against you.
This was the
only way I was going to get over her. I had to make the dreams stop. I couldn’t live like this forever.
I didn’t have the strength to love her anymore.
I got out of my car and walked toward the club. It was eleven thirty, and the place was crawling with people. It was newer, so I’d never been here. I used to go to clubs all the time after Cassie—great places to meet horny women.
The lobby was a small round space with black-painted walls. A young woman, accompanied by a huge bouncer in a black T-shirt, was collecting the cover charge.
“Good evening,” I said as I handed her a twenty.
“Hi, sugar.” She opened her cash drawer to get my change.
“Keep it,” I said with my charming smile, the slight upturn of my lips combined with intense eye contact. She was my test subject, to make sure I was on my game.
She giggled—actually giggled, like a thirteen-year-old.
I walked past the bouncer into the club. Damn, I was good. Whatever I had that worked so well on women I still had. I supposed I was handsome, but looks alone didn’t pull reactions like that. Whatever. As long as my charms still worked, I didn’t need to know exactly why it worked.
The club was like all the others, dark with an open area for dancing. The DJ stood on a platform on the left, and beyond that stretched the bar, all the way to the back wall. Scantily clad women manned the bar, including Marie. She was my ace in the hole, though I didn’t think I needed an insurance plan.
Music blared. The rhythm was heavy and sexy, something Latin. I’d picked a good night. Dancing to Latin music was like having sex with clothes on.
Bumping and grinding bodies crowded the dance floor. Several women looked over at me. One of them moved toward me. The strobe lights made her movement looked halted and flashed across her silvery sequined shirt.
She said nothing, not that I’d be able to hear her. She took hold of both sides of my collar and led me onto the dance floor.
I’d worried I would be too rusty. I hadn’t danced in forever. But my partner draped her arms over my shoulders and moved with me. Then another woman, prettier than the first, kind of shimmied her way in to take the first girl’s spot in front of me. The first girl stayed close, though, next to me and then behind. It was like they were battling.
The three of us moved together, mostly through the hips, but nothing too raunchy, not yet. I kept dancing while deciding which one I’d take home, only one my first night back. The second one was prettier, but the first one moved better. Eventually, a third girl joined us, younger than either of the others.
Decisions.
Then someone appeared from the crowd and took my hand. Marie stood on her toes and spoke in my ear, loudly over the music. “I’ll buy you a beer.”
She kept my hand, and I let her lead. I still hadn’t decided which girl. I wasn’t sure if I should screw Marie, though. She’d eventually get pissed off when I didn’t submit to a relationship, and she knew where I lived. But then, if she was pissed at me, she might leave me alone.
I stood at the end of the bar, and she walked around behind it.
“What do you like?” she half yelled.
“Whatever.”
She grabbed a bottle, popped off the top, and handed it to me.
“I’m glad you finally came,” she said with a smile.
I downed some of the beer.
“I’m on break,” she said. “Do you want to dance?”
“Sure.”
This was what I liked about clubs—conversation wasn’t very feasible.
In the middle of the dance floor, Marie pressed herself against me and wrapped her arms around my neck. My hands on her waist, I held her to me, her hips against mine. The friction was nice.
She glanced down.
I slid my hand down, half on her ass, and pressed her more firmly to me.
She smiled a little and moved with me to the rhythm. Yeah, she was the one I’d screw tonight—simply because she was the most available, would take the least amount energy to convince.
Damn, it felt good to have a woman against me like this again, moving together. It felt familiar and comfortable.
Her breath was hot against my neck, and her lips brushed my skin. Her hands pulled through my hair and then rubbed along my shoulders. Her ass was firm under my hand. I tried to imagine what she’d feel like naked, our bodies even more entwined.
My body warmed. My breathing increased, not from the energy used for dancing. My muscles strained. I pressed her even more firmly to me. She had to feel how excited I was.
I wasn’t hard for her necessarily. My body had been denied sex for so long—it almost didn’t matter who was in my arms.
Our hips swayed to the music, and I ground against her. I bent my knees slightly and pulled her so my thigh was between her legs, rubbing her. She looked up at me with parted lips, obviously barely breathing, as if she was already close to orgasm. I pulled my hand through her hair and held her gaze. I focused on the pleasure I was gaining from her and all the pleasure I planned to cause and receive tonight. I didn’t need love. I just needed sex.
I leaned closer. The warmth of our breath mingled.
Someone pushed through the crowd. “Hey, Marie,” he yelled over the music, “your break’s over.”
She disentangled herself. “I’m coming.”
The man’s expression was hard. He walked away.
“I’m sorry,” she said to me. “Don’t leave, okay?” She followed the man’s path back through the crowd.
Fucking great. As if I was going to stand around and wait for her. I looked around for another available woman, anyone who was reasonably attractive. There were several candidates. I turned to survey the rest of the room.
Then she was there, right in front of me…
Kimber.
Chapter 43
Estelle
No, she couldn’t be real. It wasn’t possible.
But there she was, standing in the middle of the rhythmic chaos of dancing, looking up at me.
I only stared.
Kimber would never come to a place like this—especially if she knew I was here.
She looked exactly the same, only her freckles didn’t make her look like she was about to smile. There was no life in her eyes. They looked like mine when I looked at myself in the mirror, kind of filtered. She was wearing the same modest clothes she always wore, nothing like the other girls in the crowd. And yet her beauty outshone all of them.
The music seemed to quiet, as if muffled, but everyone else kept dancing.
I wanted to touch her, see if she was real.
But I didn’t. I didn’t have the right. She deserved for me to keep my distance, let her hate me in peace.
Then she spoke. I heard her quiet voice clearly. “You can’t do this again.”
I paused, trying to figure what to do, how to make her stand here just a few seconds longer.
“Do what?” I said.
“The same thing you did to me.”
I opened my mouth but didn’t speak. I didn’t even have the right to apologize, to ask forgiveness.
The people around us were moving closer. They were about to run into Kimber. I lifted my hand to pull her out of the way. Before I touched her and just as someone stepped into her spot, she was gone. As if she’d never been there.
The music blared in my ears.
My hand, in midair, was shaking.
I pushed my way through the crowd and got the hell out of there. My hands kept shaking, and sweat rolled down my back. The cold night air hit me like a wall. My lungs didn’t seem to want to process it.
I bumped into someone.
“Hey, man, you all right?”
“Leave him,” someone else said. “He looks like he’s about to hurl.”
I kept moving.
My car. Where the fuck was my car?
I stuffed my hand into my pocket and pulled out my keys. They rattled against each other, and then they fell.
I pi
cked them up and held them in both hands. I pressed the button on the remote.
Lights flashed. I followed them.
My hand fumbled with the door handle. I managed to open the door and then sat and closed it. I tried to get the key in the ignition, but they fell again.
I gripped the wheel to try to get my hands to stop.
It wasn’t real. She wasn’t there. It was all in your head.
Deep breaths, gulping the air. Son of a bitch. What in the hell was wrong with me?
I felt around on the floor until I found the keys, forced my hands to work, started the car, and ripped out of the space.
My engine roared as I sped down Baymeadows.
I didn’t know where I was going, just that it was away from that club, away from Kimber.
The goddam bitch. She couldn’t just leave me the hell alone already? What in the hell was I supposed to do? It was like she was trying to torture me.
I shook my head. She wasn’t real. She’s not trying to do anything to you.
I looked up and realized where I was—the church. I cut the wheel and barely made it into the lot without hitting the sign.
The church was dark, but I knew the doors would be open like always. I walked up, while focusing on not looking psychotic. I didn’t want to scare Estelle. Maybe she wouldn’t hear me tonight. That would be better. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t think I was capable. I just needed to drain some of the calm out of this building. Hopefully, it wasn’t something that would run out.
I sat in the back corner and leaned forward with my hands clasped together, trying to get them to stop fucking shaking. I sat there for a long time. I didn’t know how to pray, and I didn’t think God would want to hear from me, so I sat very quietly and tried to remember what it was like to have a calm mind, and not just the illusion of calm. It’d happened only a few times in my life. When I was very young and Penny took care of me. I remembered finally feeling like I had a family and a home, like I could depend on someone. Then with Cassie. The day she told me for the first time she loved me my attachment to her solidified. She wanted me, so I could let myself want her, no holding back, no more being careful. And then that one night with Kimber. I let myself stop holding back with her. I should’ve kept fighting.
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