Unravelled

by Kirsten Lee

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  “Because I don’t know where she is.” Adam sounds as exasperated as he feels. That he has strong feelings for this woman is obvious, but does she have to drive him crazy like this?

  “Let me make a few phone calls and I’ll let you know what I come up with.

  They briefly talk about the festival, but when they realise that their concern is placed elsewhere, they say their goodbyes and Adam tiredly falls back into the sofa. It’s early evening, the time when Alex would usually flutter about the house, making noises and Blossom would be under his feet while he’s trying to cook dinner. How is it possible that he could miss two such annoying creatures?

  He gets up and pours himself another cognac. This woman is driving him to drink. A long sip soothes over the combination of anger and concern. A few scenarios play out in his mind when he thinks about finding Alex. He’ll shake her until she admits she loves him, he’ll make love to her until she admits she love him, he’ll take her car hostage until she admits she loves him and he lets his mind entertain a few other options. The house is ominously quiet without her and he hopes that wherever she is, she remembers to take Blossom for a walk. He reaches for the snifter next to him and allows the amber liquid to pleasantly burn its way down his throat.

  And then he starts planning.

  Chapter 24

  “Ugh.” My head hurts and Blossom’s excited bark-whining at the door is not helping. I take another pillow and push it over my head. The last two days have been of the worst in my life. It even beats the day I spent sharing a jail cell with a woman who I was convinced looked just like Hulk Hogan. She didn’t appreciate me telling her that and calling her Hulkalina. Of all the bad days, the special investigation unit fiasco definitely is on the top on that list, but this little experience of mine is beginning to challenge all of them for the number one spot.

  Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all had no idea what it meant to ‘lose’. It sucks. The pain in my heart and the pain in my head are having a competition to see which one can be more successful at torturing me into a confession. The heartache won.

  As much as I tried to avoid it and only this morning had the guts to admit it to myself, the unwanted and, I suppose, inevitable happened. I stupidly went and fell in love with Adam. Why did I have to go and do that to myself? Fall in love with Mr Wall Street. He is an insufferable, opinionated, bull-headed man. Well, in all fairness, those words can also be used to describe me. Except maybe for bull-headed. I think of myself more as decisive. And opinionated – I think of myself more as assertive. And insufferable – I’m cute. Oh! Who am I lying to?

  I’ve been through the last six weeks a million times in my head and I still don’t know when the moment came that I let my guard down. I had been so careful these last two years to not fall in love. I had resigned myself to living my life without a man and was quite happy until my trip to Villsburg or maybe I just thought I was happy with my decision to stay single forever. Who knows? What I do know is that they should call that part of the road where Bomb broke down ‘Fate-is-planning-to-break-your-heart Road’.

  Love is supposed to make things all beautiful and rose-coloured, but to me it always seems to be a dark cloud that moves in front of my sun with only small little moments of the sun managing to shine happily through a break in the cloud. In all honesty to myself, falling in love with Adam has been mostly sunshine. That is until a dark cloud called Zondra blew into my office.

  The last two days I also spend a lot of time thinking about what Zondra said and the more I think about it and her, the more annoyed I become. No, not annoyed. Angry. The only thing that she might have gotten right is that Adam would have nothing to do with me if he knew about my past. I’m convinced of that. The rest of her blathering was pure malice and utter moo-poo.

  I lie for a moment listening to the pounding in my head from all the analysing, and then frown slightly. It’s not my head pounding – there is someone at the door. I give a snort-laugh into the pillow. There is not a snowball’s chance in the Sahara that I’ll open the door looking like this.

  After I arrived in the city, I came straight home, ripped off my clothes, got into bed and have been here since. The only times I got out was to let Blossom out into the garden and to eat some chocolate ice-cream. It’s been two days since my body’s seen water. The glass of water I spilled all over myself when I tripped over Blossom doesn’t count. I feel plain awful.

  I walked past the mirror this morning and nearly screamed in horror at the sight that greeted me and I’m sure my breath can fumigate an apartment building. My designer messy hair now just looks like bed hair with the roots showing badly, my injured eye has changed colour to a vomitey green-yellow, but at least both eyes are swollen from the crying, so there is some sort of balance.

  My heart really hurts.

  And so does my head from that insistent bloody pounding at the door. I groan and sit up. The change in altitude brings a different kind of pain to my head and I press my fingers hard against my temples. My eyes start roving around my bed and it looks like I’m sitting in a bed of flowers. White, snotty tissue flowers. Disgusting!

  With a sigh I get out of bed and reach for my bathrobe. Let me go and look through the peep hole at this idiot banging on my door. I reach the living room and look in disgust at my suitcases that are still where I left them. At one point I am going to have to pull myself together and start moving on. Maybe I should move on to another planet now that space travelling is becoming a reality. It must a planet where there are fewer annoying men and more adorable dogs.

  Blossom is standing with his snout pushed against the floor at the base of the door. It looks like he wants to blow the person on the other side away through the small opening that allows too much cold air in during the cold winter months. I really should get that fixed once I manage to get myself out of this emotional slump. There’s a list of things I need to do once I get myself out of this deep dark pit of self-pity.

  The cretin at the front door has now discovered my doorbell and it seems like he has his finger glued to it. I’m standing a few feet away from the door and a bad feeling descends over me. A feeling that makes me want to run back to my tissue covered bed and stay there. Forever.

  I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the door with a groan. I know who is on the other side of the door. Not often have I been wrong when I’ve had bad feelings. It’s the good feelings I don’t trust. I’ve mostly made the mistake of not listening to my bad feelings as I know I’m going to do once again. It is Blossom’s wagging tail that gives me the tip-off. Why would he be happy to hear or smell a stranger at the front door? It no longer seems like he’s trying to blow the stranger away, but more like he is trying to breathe him in.

  Bottom.

  And I know this can’t be Erin – he doesn’t know I’m here, so there is only one logical explanation for Blossom’s happiness. I don’t need to look through the peep hole to know that the cause of my heart and head aching is five feet away from me on the other side of that door.

  “Go away.” My voice sounds gravelly from all the crying. My chin start to quiver at the sound of my own sad voice. Feeling sorry for oneself is a condition that worsens to the point where the littlest thing can set one off again. I’m past that point.

  “Open the door, Alex. Let’s talk.” At the sounds of Adam’s voice, the tears start running down my face and Blossom gets so excited that his bottom does the talking and not his mouth. Sigh. I sniff very unsexily and look for a tissue in the pockets of my robe. Even a used tissue would do right now. The doorbell rings again, more tears flow and still no tissue. This is becoming a dilemma.

  “I don’t want to talk.” I manage to strangle out between tears and snot. “Go away.”

  I walk back to the bedroom and leave a river of tears in my wake. Okay, maybe not a river, more like a stream, but I am sobbing and have no tissues to dry my face
. Why I’m crying, I don’t really know. Adam is most likely back to tell me off for leaving the festival at such a crucial time. And I deserve a dressing down for leaving like that, especially after the weekend we had. It really is in bad style, but I didn’t know how else to do it.

  Or he’s here to drop off the few things I couldn’t fit into my car. One thing I’m sure of is that he isn’t here because he wants me back. Why would he? And if he sees me right now, he would never want me back. Ever. I walk into my bedroom wiping the tears with the sleeve of my robe. I’ve officially run out of tissues. At least there is still toilet paper in the bathroom and paper napkins in the kitchen.

  “Alex.”

  I jump around at the sound of that darling voice and there he is. As large as life. In my bedroom door.

  “How did you get in?”

  “Erin gave me your spare key.”

  “Traitor.” I give a little hiccough of a cry when I realise the implications of it all. Why would Erin betray me like this? If he gave Adam the spare key to my house, it means he must know that I’m here. Why has he not come to visit me? I could’ve done with a friend and more ice-cream. And more tissues.

  “Now is not a good time.” I say between snotty sobs.

  “I can see that.” There is kindness in the laugh that he utters that makes my knees wobble. I slump down on my bed and take a shivery breath. I’m not ready for this conversation, for any conversation.

  “Why don’t you jump in the shower while I make us some breakfast?”

  “It’s noon and I don’t want you here.”

  “I’m sure you haven’t had breakfast yet and I am not leaving,” he says in a very reasonable voice. “Go on. Go spend some time in the shower. I’ll find my way around your kitchen.”

  “No.” I manage in my strongest teary voice.

  “Alex, you’re in dire need of a shower and we will talk. So, either you go have a shower while I make breakfast and we can have this conversation with you feeling refreshed, or we can have it right here, right now.”

  I am so not ready for this. I’ve spent the last two days preparing myself for never seeing Adam again, not for having to deal with him if he came to my house. I prepared myself for his anger and outbursts and bossiness, but I’m not prepared to deal with him while he’s being so reasonable and looking at me the way he does now.

  “I look really bad.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  I slump down even further and another pitiful hiccough escapes from my sad soul. Blossom has calmed down and stopped nudging Adam for attention. He walks around the bed and puts his head on my lap and looks up at me with enquiring eyes. I bury my big red nose in his hairy neck until I feel the tears subside for long enough to face Adam again. When I look up, he is still there, leaning against the door frame of my bedroom.

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  “Then you don’t have to. Just have a shower, eat something and I’ll do all the talking.”

  We both know that a scenario where I wouldn’t talk is highly unlikely, but I agree to this with an exaggerated sigh and a nod. This might have been funny if it weren’t happening to me.

  “Take your time in the kitchen, this is going to take a while.” I’m referring to washing the last two day’s pity party off. Adam gives me that sexy crooked smile of his and turns to the kitchen. The traitorous dog, who minutes ago came to comfort me, deserts me and runs after Adam with a loud fart. After I get my life sorted out, I have to take this dog back to some veterinary specialist to see if something can be done about this animal’s flatulence. Really.

  I truly feel much better after half an hour of letting the water wash my mood off. It took a bit longer to wash my hair and shave all the important body parts, but I am now squeaky clean. With only a towel wrapped around me, I head into my bedroom in search of clean clothes. I can hear the television in the living room and the smell of coffee beckons me from the kitchen. Wearing clothes when facing Adam outweighs my need for caffeine and I head into the bedroom only to stop dead in my tracks.

  “Wow.”

  My bed is made and all the tissues disappeared. I cringe to think that Adam touched my snotty tissues. Even the windows have been opened to let in fresh air. But what really makes my jaw drop is the dress laid out on my bed. I carefully approach the bed as if the dress would jump up and attack me, and only when I am sure it’s not an apparition induced by shower water and too much shampoo, do I pick it up and smile. It is perfect! It looks like someone stole Joseph’s multicoloured coat and snippered it up to make this flowing outfit. The neckline is rounded and a simple cut with the top tailored to just under the breast. From this flows layers upon layers of soft material cut at different lengths to create an uneven hem. The sleeves are mid-length with a bit of flair. I know exactly which jewellery to wear with this.

  But where did it come from?

  A rather daft question seeing as there is someone in my house who arrived not too long ago, but...I’m pretty sure Adam didn’t buy this for me. If he were to buy me clothes, wouldn’t it be a classic outfit that would suit a woman befitting to be Mr Wall Street’s partner?

  I’m almost completely convinced that this wasn’t Adam’s choice. I can see Erin’s hand in this. He knows my style even though he reels in horror every time he sees me wearing one of my favourite outfits. It most definitely wasn’t Juan’s choice – he would have a screaming fit if he saw me ruin his weeks of training and coaching on how to dress for success and act the part.

  But why would Erin buy me clothes if he wouldn’t even phone me knowing that I’m here? And why would he send Adam to bring the clothes? The last hour in the bathroom has not helped me understand why Adam showed up at my door. And now this? I’ve looked at this situation from every angle and even though I pride myself on a fair amount of understanding human behaviour, Adam’s actions reach beyond my comprehension. The only way for me to put an end to my incessant speculating is to get dressed and hear what the man I’m in love with has to say.

  Chapter 25

  “That smells good.”

  Nothing beats the smell of coffee and toast. My dining room table, which has never served any other purpose than being a second desk and collecting rubbish, has been cleared and is loaded with a wonderful looking breakfast. Adam looks up from the newspaper he’s reading on the couch and gives me another crooked smile.

  “You look much better.”

  “Thank you. I feel much better too.”

  “You’re not wearing the dress.” I just couldn’t get myself to wear such a perfect outfit when he is going to tell me that it’s over. It’s also more fitting for wearing to a special occasion and I don’t really think this is going to be a special occasion. At least not in the positive sense. I’ve spent some time preparing myself while I was getting dressed and I think I might be ready for whatever he’s going to tell me. It was difficult for me to not wear the dress – it is really perfect.

  Another reason why I didn’t put it on is that I didn’t want him to know how desperately I love the outfit and want to wear it everyday for the next two weeks. It would hurt too much watching his back as he walks out for the last time while wearing the dress he brought. So I put on a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt.

  I spent some time arranging my messy-hair look and with some mascara and lip gloss, I feel better, but not really up to confrontation or conversation.

  “Did Erin put you up to this?” I plant myself at the table and down the glass of orange juice that was next to my plate. Adam walks over from the sitting area, sits down across from me and fills my glass with more juice.

  “Put me up to what?”

  “The food, the cleaning, the clothes.”

  “He only told me where you were and gave me the keys.” I plan to have a word with my so-called best friend!

  “Where did you get the dress?”

  “I bought it in a shop.”

  I find that hard to believe. In all the time that I’ve known Adam an
d that we shared accommodation, not once did he go into a shop to buy clothes. I once entertained a theory that there were elves who bought his clothes and hung them in his wardrobe at night. I never even saw him take his clothes to the dry cleaners and it is a mystery that I suppose now will never be solved for me.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. But...why?”

  Adam puts a slice of toast that he buttered for me on my plate, I cover it in strawberry jam and sink my teeth into it. Bliss. Sugar and starch – every heartbroken girl’s best friend.

  “I thought it might be a good start to everything that I have to say to you.” He excuses himself to the kitchen and returns with a pot of coffee. This man really knows how to soften me up. Food, coffee and clothes. I’m surprised that he bought the dress for me, but when I think about it, I’m not all that surprised at his choice. I’ve witnessed his knack to read people right and the outfit tells me that he read me correctly.

  It makes me happy and sad at the same time. Happy because he knows my style and sad because he most likely is here to end it. It would never work between us in any case and that brings the tears to the surface again.

  “Alex, please don’t cry. I won’t be able to speak to you if you do.”

  I swallow hard at the rock in my throat, but it is Blossom’s untimely fart from beneath the table that sends the tears away. We both laugh and I rub Blossom’s tummy with my foot.

  “I still don’t want to have this conversation.” I sound petulant and feel stupid for sounding like a teenager, but the toast turns in my stomach just thinking of how much I’m going to hurt when Adam leaves my house today.

  “Tough. Eat your food and just listen.” Adam nervously plays with his teaspoon and I wonder why he seems nervous. The corner of his mouth is not giving away any secrets, so I resign myself to eating and listening. What else can I do?

  “The last few days have been very educational to me. After you left, I made a few phone calls and learned some interesting facts about you.” My heart drops heavily down my chest, through my bum and bounces on the floor below me. “The one that taught me the most about you was a long conversation I had with Earl. He told me what really happened with my car and how you made them promise to keep to ‘your truth’. He also said I should tell you that he’s waiting to take you for a Sunday afternoon drive. He said you would know what he’s talking about.” I smile sadly at the thought of that sweet old man and watch Adam take a sip of his coffee. It seems like he needs a moment to prepare himself for what he’s about to say. There is nothing I can do now to prepare myself, and since my heart is lying on the floor bleeding out, I fatalistically take another big bite of my strawberry jam toast and wait.