by C. J. Wells
Oh God, don’t do that! Hell, what difference does it make? Everything he does brings me to my knees. “Did you come all this way just to vent? If that’s the case, I’ll take it.”
Stopping dead in his tracks, he turns his malevolent gaze to me in frustration. “Vent? You think I came all this way to vent? Chase you down even though you left me without a fucking word? Which, I might add, was fucking great news to receive from your neighbor boy.”
I close my eyes in shame, unable to imagine how awful that must have been. Knowing how Alex feels about my London neighbor, Andrew, I cringe at the thought that he had to find out about me leaving that way.
Andrew had been a breath of fresh air for me, someone I’d grown to consider a friend in the short time since I’d moved into my flat. But Alex’s opinion of him varied, to say the least. How sour it must have tasted for Alex, knowing I’d told Andrew I was leaving, yet kept him in the dark.
Shivering, I recall the many awkward occasions between Alex and Andrew over the last month. Regardless of how innocent my interactions with Andrew may have been, I’m not naïve to the fact that, at that moment, Alex must have felt even more betrayed.
“No, Aby, you have Stacey to thank for my being here,” he adds, the way my name spits from his beautiful lips sending shivers down my spine.
Sucking in a breath, I stare perplexed. “What? What are you talking about?”
His quick, lashing snicker burns my flesh, “It seems your friend was under the impression that you’d made a mistake, but clearly she’s confused. You obviously have yet to share that you’re reuniting with Liam.”
“No, Alex,” I shake my head. “You’ve misunderstood. Liam was here to sign the divorce papers. I’m not getting back together with him.” Though I sense a possible flicker of relief in his eyes, his countenance remains unchanged as he harshly takes a seat on the sofa, his angry eyes avoiding my direct gaze. “I’m sorry you thought…I’m sorry, Alex.”
“You’re sorry?” he looks up towards me, his glare blasting my already shattered heart. “What are you sorry for? For leaving me when you promised you wouldn’t? Or for saying nothing before you left?”
His words are like a punch to my gut and I struggle to find a reply. “I’m just sorry…for everything,” I offer, knowing my response is inadequate. I’m not sure what else to say as he continues to stare at me, an angry, yet baffled, expression donning his face. Time stands still, akin to an eerie break in the storm, a fleeting calm in the midst of the hurricane allowing you to run for cover or brace yourself for the impending destruction. I attempt to formulate my thoughts as he pulls his gaze from mine to look down into his lap once more. “Alex, when I left a week ago…”
His head darts up towards me, crazed pain etched in his eyes and tone, “A week ago? It’s been nine fucking days!”
“I…” Shit. I don’t even know what to say. When I left, the only thing I knew was that I had to get away…to sort through everything that was happening. I hadn’t stopped to think about how long that would take.
“When I realized you were gone, my world crumbled, Aby.”
I have to turn away from the penetration of his pain-filled eyes, looking down at my fumbling hands, my fingers intertwining. The momentary break of his gaze gives me the strength I need to hold it together, though my defensive tendencies are poisoning my composure. “How do you expect me to believe that, when you just admitted you’re only here because of Stacey?” As the question leaves my lips, I shudder at the selfishness of it at the hands of my own insecurities.
“Believe? Aby, I’ve never lied to you.” He stands and walks towards me. “For once, can you be honest with me and tell me why you left? I need to know.”
Looking up towards him once more, his piercing baby-blues locked searchingly onto mine tests every ounce of my composure, my guilt. “Alex, I left…the way I left. I tried to tell you, that night…”
“The night I made love to you?” his interruption jars me momentarily, the words stabbing me in the chest. I flinch and he closes his eyes as though sensing his impact on me before he opens them quickly, once again veiled in angry hurt.
“What I was trying to tell you was that I needed time…time to figure everything out.”
His eyebrow quirks in disgust, “No, Aby. You told me you thought you should go. And I recall my pathetic attempts at begging you to explain why.”
“Yes! And you weren’t hearing me when I attempted to tell you!” I blurt in desperation. “Why do you think I gave in? Stayed that night only to leave once you were gone in the morning?” Frozen in his fury, he’s either waiting for me to continue or unable to fathom an answer to my seemingly ridiculous question. “I couldn’t even allow myself to try to leave a note…that…”
“That what? Would have meant being honest if only on paper, at least?”
“You’re putting words in my mouth. I don’t expect you to understand why I left the way I did, but I thought you’d somehow understand what I was trying to deal with…”
“Deal with? Is life with me something you have to try to deal with, Aby?”
“No-yes. You’re twisting my words.”
“Am I? It doesn’t even hold a candle to how you reached into my chest and twisted my fucking heart out.”
Silence. Painful, torturing silence. Fleeting glances - pain, regret…hope.
“I know I was wrong to leave without a word. I was so very wrong. I tried to tell you, but,” I close my eyes, opening them quickly to continue before he interrupts me again, “…if I sat down to write you a note, I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it.”
“It?” he spits.
“Leaving,” the word escapes on a cowering shiver. “I know I would have broken down again and stayed. But why I left…the reasons, I thought you would at least understand where they were coming from. You said…”
“I know what I said,” the bite in his words matches his glare. “I also know what you said. You said that you would never run. Fuck, Aby. What I feel for you is burning me alive, and you fucking walked away. You fucking ran away! Because of the media…my public life? Maybe even because of Ben,” he winces, recovering quickly in his anger. “Hell, maybe you ran from Julia’s backlash.”
He runs his fingers through his curls and I shiver at his unknowing accuracy - Julia’s attempt to run me off. The image of her smiling at the idea that she was the reason I left, burns through me like lava. I guess I handed that to her on a silver platter. But I left for me, not just for Alex. As if I believed for one second that her use of Alex as her reasoning for wanting me gone was ever genuine.
“Answer me. Is that why you left?”
“Yes…No…” I shake my head, trying to find the right words.
“Yes and no? Jesus Christ. Do you even know the answer? Maybe you just left without a word because you were too much of a coward to tell me it was over.”
“I’m not a coward!”
“No? What would you call it? Enlighten me, Miss Ryan. Tell me you didn’t leave because you were too much of a coward to tell me I wasn’t what you needed. Wanted.”
Oh, God. “Is that what you think? Alex, I left for you…and, for…me.” I reach for him and he flinches from my touch. My heart drops beneath my stolen breath and I swallow the lump in my throat, my hand falling back to my side. “When I met you, I walked into a fantasy. You…you are my fantasy. But it comes with a reality I wasn’t prepared for, as much as I thought I could be…for you. I wanted to be strong for you, but when things turned so quickly, I-I needed to take the time to figure everything out. Everything was happening so fast. I just needed to…”
“Figure everything out?” His sarcastic tone is cutting.
“Yes.”
“For me…and for you?” he tilts his head in his condescending stance.
“Yes.”
“And yet, I have to stand here and spell out for you how one sided that is? ‘Me’ and ‘you’ - that’s us, Aby! I will not be what Liam was to you
.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I snap.
“You spent your entire relationship hiding your feelings from him. I guess I should be thankful that you chose an alternate escape for me, should I?”
“Alex…I just needed time…” I rein in my defenses against his earned vengeance.
“And have you had enough? Time?” Again, the bite behind his words is lethal.
“I-I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Well let me tell you what I know. I’m sure as hell not going to let you do to us what you did to your relationship with Liam. You don’t get to run away and make decisions about us without including me, Goddammit.” He grabs my arms, forcing me to take his penetrating, dominating gaze. “Mine,” he spews as though the word is pathetic. “Did you lie about that too?”
At my inability to reply, my lips parted in the shock of his accusation, he leans down to take me in a desperate, forceful kiss, its edges serrated, cutting with an overflow of hurt and pain - his…mine.
“I never lied to you!” I pull my lips away, tearing myself from his grip, the emotions he’s stirred in me with his reference to my relationship with Liam fuelling the breaking of my defensive dam; a strong and equally ugly alternative to the building sobs I’m holding at bay.
He looks stunned at my abrupt withdrawal, and I’m dying inside, losing the internal war between my heart and my mind. He’s right. It is exactly what I went through with Liam. My actions a flipped version, but the bottom-line is exactly the same. I don’t know what I want or need. And, right now, I don’t know what to say. My defensive anger, however, is shielding my broken heart from giving in to him. “I tried to tell you what I didn’t tell Liam. You didn’t want to hear it!” I spew at him, my harshness, along with his slapped reaction, suddenly reverberating my actions. I’m lashing back at him, hurting him more, just to protect my own pain. “What more do you want me to say, Alex?”
“I want you to say that you made a mistake! Tell me that you wish you didn’t leave! Jesus, Aby. Just when I was falling in love with you…” he stops suddenly, as though realizing he’s shared a sacred secret with the devil.
I take an unconscious step back from him at his words. Oh my God. He was falling in love with me…
The alarm in his gaze at the hands of my unintentional retreat signals his clear misinterpretation of my reaction. I watch a myriad of emotion pass across his stunning face, from hurt to defeat to anger in a matter of seconds. The shock to my system paralyzes me. I want to correct his perception, but my mouth isn’t moving.
“You needed time? You got it. But you don’t get to decide for me how long that window is open. I’ll be at the Ritz Carlton, Suite 515, until tomorrow evening,” he turns to leave.
“What are you saying?” I question as though he’s speaking a foreign language, finding my voice in a blast of panic. I know exactly what he’s saying, yet I can’t help but offer myself up for further clarification of the clear warning.
He faces me from the open doorway. “Consider that window closed when I get on my flight. You’re not the only one who has a heart to protect,” he adds before walking down the stairs.
My mouth hangs open at his final words, my chest heaving from the loss of air. I stare at the absence of my dream-man before finally closing the door on him. And my dreams.
Perfect plans are not so perfect. I’ve just watched two of the men in my polar opposite lives both walk out the door.
SEATED CROSS-LEGGED ON the sofa, I stare at my new cell phone, vibrating against the glass-top of the coffee table with each ring, my mother’s picture indicating the caller’s ID. It’s her third time calling today, making me regret finally replacing the one left broken in pieces on the floor of my flat in London over a week ago. Nine days ago to be exact - Alex’s harsh reminder echoes through my head along with each ring from my mother’s call.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?”
Looking up, I find Stacey setting her oversized purse down atop her suitcase, closing the front door.
“Stacey!” I jump up to run into her arms, nearly taking her off her feet. “I’m so glad you’re home!” I’m unable to hold back my looming tears any longer in the arms of my best friend.
“Oh, babe, I’m glad to see you too,” she returns my tight hug, running her hand lovingly along my back. Releasing me with a gentle push, she looks harshly into my eyes, “Now sit your ass down, you have some explaining to do.”
A little taken aback at her firm order, I turn to walk at my own pace back to the sofa, wiping my tear-stained cheeks. “I’ve already told you what happened,” I take my former seat before looking towards her in defensive mode, ready to take whatever my feisty friend has to offer. “I didn’t realize I would have to explain myself further, especially to my best friend.”
“Abigail Ryan, don’t you dare try that defensive shit with me - especially me. I know you better than anyone, doll face,” she joins me on the sofa.
Ain’t that the truth, I sigh. I can’t get any bullshit past Stacey. She’s known me much too long, too well. She’s seen me through everything, been my biggest support, from the time we met in high school, through my marriage and it’s subsequent demise - my desires for more.
“So, have you spoken to your mom yet?” she continues in my silent sulking.
I say nothing, simply shrugging my shoulders in reply.
“Well, at least you managed to replace your damn phone, finally. Does she even know you’re home?”
I roll my eyes, and finally shake my head.
“So, you’re avoiding everyone now? That’s a change, isn’t it? You go from years of pretending nothing is wrong in your world to running from it?”
I don’t miss the sternness in her voice, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hitting me in the stomach like a wrecking ball. Deciding to just get it over with, I remain mum. I’m emotionally drained, and really don’t have the energy to fight back right now.
“Let’s cut straight to the point, shall we, my little peach?”
I grimace a little, though its unintentional sarcastic lacing is obvious. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Stacey this pissed - at me, personally, anyway. It’s definitely pushing my defensive buttons.
“This is one of those times when one needs to be reminded that communication via email can lack…how does one put it? Emotion? Tone? Don’t get me wrong, Abs, I was sincere in my open door policy for my bestie - you can crash at my pad anytime. Mi casa es su casa, sweetie. You know how much I love you, right?”
I nod my head, fighting back a renewed well of tears. I do know how much she loves me. As much as I love her.
“Good, because I do. And now that the mushy love shit is out of the way, we can skip the bullshit brigade. Let me begin by correcting any of that lost emotion or mixed signals in my reply,” she pauses to lock our gaze dramatically. “What. The. Fuck. Were. You. Thinking?”
It’s a question. That’s very clear. An answer, however, she is not waiting for.
“Aby, I will always, always, have your back. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. But you spent twelve years, twelve years, fighting your own gut instincts to keep others happy. And I listened, supported, consoled, without opinion or judgment because I. Love. You. But this? This I will not support. Or console. And I most certainly will not withhold my opinion or judgment. You fucked up. Royally, babe.”
“You weren’t there, Stace! You don’t understand…”
“Wait. Hold up,” she raises her palm towards me, spanning the room around us dramatically in search of something or someone that isn’t there, before looking back at me sarcastically. “I’m sorry, were you expecting the pity train? Sorry, sweet tits, it derailed at the corner of Suck It Up and Butter Cup.”
Ouch. That hurt. My mouth drops open, my jaw locking beneath my scrunched brows in shocked awe.
“Now, what was it you were going to say?” She offers a closed lip smile, suggestively warning me that her zero-tolerance bul
lshit policy is now in effect.
“I just needed some time. I didn’t mean to run, Stace. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
“I get that, babe. I really do. And that’s exactly why I called Alex. He’s coming after you, Aby…”
I close my eyes at the mention of his name, the memory of his visit like salt in the oozing wounds from the lashing of his wrath.
“Aby?” she asks, craning her neck towards me. “Please tell me he hasn’t already been here. Aby?” Flailing her arms in the air, she bolts from her seat, circling the room in a bizarre, inaudible, ritual type chant.
“Yes,” I manage in a whisper. She doesn’t answer. I’m not even sure she heard me. “He was here. I-I think I’ve lost him…” the event replays torturously in my mind. “I didn’t handle it very well.”
She stops suddenly, “I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you, I must have rolled my eyes out loud.”
Her glare isn’t helping me find my words.
Clasping her palms together at her lips, she inhales a breath of composure before sitting back down beside me. “Okay,” she nods calmly, yet slightly craze-laced, “…just tell me everything that happened.”
SILENCE IS GOLDEN. Unless it’s at the hands of Stacey Stevenson. In which case it means shit’s about to hit the fan. She hasn’t said a word since I spewed every little detail of Alex’s visit - several moments of it repeatedly at her crazed and demanding request. I’m not sure how much longer she plans to sit here staring at me - her internal struggle of judgment versus quest for composure obvious in her gaze, and bleeding into my already crumbling demeanor - but I’m sure that if she doesn’t say something soon, I’m going to explode, myself. I need help right now. Not a scolding. Whether I deserve one or not.
“So, let’s recap, shall we? Just so I’m clear. He flew all the way here, and you sent him away?”
“No…I…not exactly,” I sigh, feeling the numbing walls that I’ve been hiding behind begin to crumble at the hand of her battering.
“Oh, did I use the wrong words? Let me rephrase. He flew all the way here, and you let him walk out the door? After you left him without a word in London, and he chased you anyway. Better?” She certainly isn’t holding any punches, her honest, in your face harangue effectively silencing me, pushing me deeper into my pit of self-loathing.