Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology
Page 42
She couldn’t sleep, either. She was still unsettled by her dreams—vague images of a man’s silhouette standing outside the restaurant in the dark, and the feeling of having herself pulled towards him—always closer, but never truly there beside him.
That’s what he was feeling, one of the things at least. She was trying not to worry about the other emotions—the despair, the knowledge that he could, after fifteen years, be forced to lose her—that he saw her, he held her, he made love to her, and she could walk away.
She didn’t want him to feel that. She thought of going to see him, but she did want time. She wanted to understand herself, and what it was that she was missing. What did she lose when she left?
There was fulfillment here, true honest love. And she didn’t have the courage to admit it, not even to herself. She had to have something to drown it out. The television wasn’t enough, and she felt like she was going to implode.
As soon as she texted Reina, she got a message from her asking why she refused Cade’s breakfast invitation. Lori responded by saying that she wanted to have a quiet day. Reina did agree to come, but she made it clear that she thought Lori was making a mistake.
It wasn’t mistake, she told herself. It was time to think, but in truth, it was a way to hold on and try to fight what she was feeling and the fact that she really did want to give him the answer that he wanted.
Reina came holding a white gift bag, stuffed with matching tissue paper and the Capital logo, a ship sailing on calm waters, painted in blue on the front. She thrust it into Lori’s hand and walked inside. “What is that?” Lori shut the door behind her.
She sat down on the couch and announced, “It’s wonderful, is what it is. Pull it out.”
“What is it?”
“Will you stop? Just look inside.”
“Fine,” she dug her hand in and her fingers broached a card. She rifled around, thinking that there would be something else, but there wasn’t. When she pulled it out, the gold lettering caught the light: San Domenico Resort and Spa.
She opened it, saw the invitation, and took a moment to admire his finesse. It would be amazing, laying out on the beach, spending hours together in their room. She wanted this, but the hairs on her arm were standing up, and the excitement scared her. “Well say something?”
“It’s not a winning lottery ticket.”
“Two suites in one of the world’s most expensive resorts—an island paradise, and that’s your reaction.”
“I guess it would be nice. I have been wanting to walk on land, and I love the beach.”
“See,” Reina said, “it’s not so bad.”
“No it’s sudden. I don’t know if I’m ready...if I have anything.”
“Are you talking about clothes?”
Lori nodded. “And other things, maybe some perfume, a few outfits.”
“Where’s your tablet? What are your measurements? Harris’s card is maxed out. Does Tim’s work?”
Lori got her everything she needed and waited until she was distracted to announce that she was going to go get them both something to eat. Reina was halfway through a diatribe about bathing suit colors when she left.
She couldn’t confront her feelings while she was alone with Cade in a suite on a tropical desert island. That place was engineered to make people fall in love. Any little push would be enough to break her resolve. She wanted a fair playing field, where they could speak without any outside influence.
George approached her when she walked into the atrium. He wrinkled his nose for a split second, and she could sense that he really didn’t like her. He was worried about what she was going to do. His expression faded as soon as it had come, and he said, “He’s not available, but I’ll send him to you shortly.”
“Is there somewhere I can meet him?”
“Use your key.”
She thanked him with a nod and went to find the elevator. She stood outside it, watching it fall while she tried to convince herself that she had the determination she’d need to reject Cade. They had been apart for a long time. It should have been easy for her to disconnect, but it wasn’t.
Could her lips even form the words? Could she watch his expression go from that of a man about to achieve his life’s dream, to somebody whose life would be too painful to live? As time went on, and he got older, he would think more about what he was lacking, and the happiness she stole from him—the family, the love and fellowship—and he’d feel like he wasted the few years he’d been given.
She’d feel the same way. She needed love, but if she could accept it—really allow it into her life and embrace it—it would have to be his love. His was the purest form of love she’d ever encountered. It saw everything. It knew everything, all the things that she’d keep hidden, the weird, human things, the things that brought her shame—he saw her, everything she was, and he just wanted to worship her, let her know that she was cherished and experience her fully.
She’d see his innocent intentions for what they were, the power they held and how they could transform her life, and she’d still have to turn him down. How? What would we she say? How would she dull herself to his reaction?
None of those things mattered, though. He approached when she had taken her place at the edge of the deck—where he stood their first night, arms out, asking her to push him off. He had tears in his eyes then, and she could see them now, when he tugged her chin to the side, so she’d face him.
She had to do it fast, without a single bit of sympathy, or she would never be able to leave. She jerked her head away and watching his upright posture melt. His head fell, and she imagined him, haggard and sullen, thinking back on an empty life. He was trying to save himself, not just their marriage, and he was terrified, something she’d never seen. “You’re leaving. Why?”
“I can’t expect you to understand.”
“Because there’s nothing to understand,” he bellowed. “You have no reason for doing this. You just—you’re wrong. Lori,” he pleaded, “whatever you think about me, whatever you’re afraid o—
“I’m not afraid. I-I do—I will give you the dignity of the truth—I do love you. I do want this. But I am still very much a product of our separation. It defined my life, and it changed me. I can’t fight its influence. I don’t want to associate you with betrayal and grief, not when I’m sharing my life with you. It wouldn’t be fair. You deserve all of me.”
“This is a choice that you’re making,” he said. “You don’t have to let those things get in the way. You just don’t want to make a commitment.
“And that’s because of what I went through, and all of the feelings surrounding what happened between us. It’s not logical. I know that, but that doesn’t make it any less real.”
“You could give it time,” he said.
“I don’t have time to experiment with my life. I’ve been living off server’s wages. I need to discover myself, build my life, and then I can let somebody in.”
“You had a life, and you left it,” he said, “and a man that loved you, who you abandoned. Then you came back and blamed me—attacked me, led me on...”
“I did not.”
“No, you did worse than that. You showed me that you wanted me as much as I wanted you, and then you rejected me for no reason.”
“I—
He shook his head gravely. “You’re hesitant. That’s not a reason, it’s your biggest mistake.”
“It’s my fucking mistake,” Lori said. “I get a choice.”
“Do you know what you’re doing? What you did?”
He had carved his own heart out, and now he was holding it out to her, telling her that she owned it—the fragile muscle that kept him alive—that she was responsible for its care. Turning him down would be worse than murder. He would live through the pain, and it would never end.
She didn’t deserve that kind of responsibility, and he knew that, but he gave it to her anyways, because he couldn’t help it; he loved her. His devotion was limitless
. She felt the same way.
She swallowed straightened herself out. “I’d like to be taken back to Seaport when we get to the island.”
He looked at her, nodded his head, and she could tell that he wasn’t really looking at her, he was staring out over the edge of the deck behind her. The strongest, most loving person she had ever met was being torn apart—just destroyed, and she was doing it. She was tempted to jump off herself. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him that she was sorry. She didn’t mean it. He was the love of her life, but she’d made her choice, so she walked past him and left him to think.
32
Lori thought she wanted silence. She begged for it and struggled to get it. The panic and pressure—the interruptions, people knocking on her door—it was enough that she honestly considered moving into the bathroom.
After she gave Cade her answer, she decided to do exactly that. She brought her blanket and pillow and lined the tub, so she could lay down comfortably. Then she chose something to watch and locked the door.
Most of her time was spent trying to convince herself not to leave. For hours at a time, she’d tune out and try to forget that she was hurting Cade—or what he was doing at that moment. Was he able to perform his duty? How could he just go about his day, knowing that there was nothing to look forward to, and how could she let him?
The choice had been made, and she was determined to stick to it, but it was hard. All of the voices she’d been trying to rid herself of—his gifts, George’s urging, Reina’s pestering—they were drowning out her concern and her need.
When she was left alone with them, she was powerless, shivering and sobbing. There wasn’t a second that she didn’t regret her choice. She loved him, and she would love him for the rest of her life. There was no other. So why was she doing this?
The grief was supposed to subside—twelve hours, at most—a hard night, stuck in a tub. Maybe she’d have to move, but she had one thing to comfort her: the knowledge that time heals all wounds. This flood of vicious biochemicals would die down, and things would go back to normal.
Sleeping there was hard. She did have to move back to the bed and she wouldn’t have been able to withstand it if she didn’t. She woke up feeling like she’d downed a bottle of vodka. Light and sound were unbearable—any stimuli, really—and there was nobody sleeping beside her.
She tried to hold onto her pillow and cuddle with it. It was supposed to satisfy her need for touch, like nicotine gum for a smoker, but it was really just a tease. She felt empty—restless—and only Cade could change that. Time wasn’t going to help.
The bathroom was perfect. The tub was hard to get out of, and it hurt her back to walk after being in there for long periods of time. She used it as an extra barrier—something to discourage her from leaving.
With the volume up, the lights off and the door locked, she should have had no trouble convincing herself to stay in that room. It was possible, and she was able to do it, but it took more strength than she thought she had. She was crying within minutes, blubbering—soon shrieking and pounding the floor.
At some point, the tablet lit up by her side, but she was too upset to check it. She tired herself out and woke up, still stuck in her depression. She knew that she could only handle this for so long.
After some thinking, she prepared a statement and chose something to wear, while pacing around and going through all of her concerns. It was late—three in the morning—she slept, but she was still too exhausted to go that evening.
At least, after all of the inner turmoil, she was going to get a good night’s rest. She did; she slept well, because she was certain of what she was doing. That certainty wavered when she saw the two green peaks on the horizon outside her porthole.
In less than twenty-four hours, she would get off the ship and she’d go back to the real word. There would be no isolation, no bombardment. Cade wouldn’t be there. She would be free, and then she would have a clear head to think.
Things had moved fast. There was a lot of emotion involved. She couldn’t be objective when she was feeling like this. Once she got some fresh air, and she was on dry land, she’d look back on what happened and laugh at herself for considering Cade’s offer.
She moved her fort back to the bed and kept an eye on those little green peaks. Whenever she thought about Cade, she’d look over and tell herself that she needed to be realistic. Her world didn’t contain things like ships and loyal men. There was only a limited amount of funds in existence—never enough—and nobody found what they were looking for in life. That was the real world. This was a reckless fantasy, and she only believed in it because she was imbalanced.
None of that was convincing; it was just noise, really. She kept it up, repeating those things in her head, until she couldn’t stand it and she started to worry about him. When that happened, she stopped and looked out at the islands.
They became her mantra, not the lies. This would be over soon, and when she got on dry land, it would end. She’d go back to the real world. She did need this to end. They needed to move faster. Twenty-four hours wasn’t soon enough.
After the sun fell, and she was debating ordering dinner, there was a quick, courteous knock and a flood of relief washed through her. She didn’t have to keep hiding. This was ridiculous. She fixed her hair and changed her stained shirt, shaking and whispering to herself that things would be OK. She didn’t have to worry; he loved her, and he would never betray her.
Ready to give up and run out, she flung the door open and George walked past, carrying a manila folder and sat down. “I don’t have much time,” he said, his voice low and terrifying.
She closed the door, shocked by his tone, and realized, he hated her. He always did. He considered her a hostile, now that she’d chosen her side. If she showed off her weakness in front of him, he wouldn’t use it to convince her to change her mind, he’d find a way to hurt her. “What is that?” she asked when she walked around to go sit with him.
“I have two titles for you.” He pushed them across the table and held out a pen. She went to take it, and he pulled it back. “You have no decency.”
She checked down to see what they were—a house in the foothills, and a brand-new sports car. “I don’t want them.”
“I don’t have time for games.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re destroying an honorable man, and you fully intend to take his things. You just want to seem reluctant, because it looks better.”
“You don’t know me,” she said. “Anyone who knows me knows that I am not leaving this ship with anything other than my baggage and I never intended to. Now, unless you have a plane ticket, please leave.”
“He’d like to speak with you again, after this happens. That is not too much to ask.”
“Yes,” she said, “it is. It’s a lot. Now,” she pointed a finger towards the door, “I don’t want anything. Please leave.”
“Your things will be held in storage.” He gave her a sheet with the address and a key. “The property, including the car, will be retained for life, should you desire them at any time.”
“I don’t want anything,” she said, standing to show him out.
He took the titles and stuck them in the folder, ignoring her as he flipped through until he found a thin strip of paper. “Here,” he said, handing her the ticket. “Do me a personal favor, and never, ever contact him again. I don’t know how he live through his first encounter or if he’ll live through this one. I doubt he’ll survive the third.”
She managed to keep a stony expression until he left, and she stood, her back to the door, watching the ceiling blur from the tears building up. “Did she say why she wouldn’t answer?” a voice came through, and she ran into her room, before she could hear it again.
She immediately went to order some food, hoping that the distraction would at least keep her sane. The tablet was laying upside down next to the tub, and it was dead when she turned it over to check it.
33
Lori owned nothing for interviews. Usually when she had to go to one, she barely had enough money to pay for the bus. She would throw together whatever she had and hope that it looked professional.
That wasn’t really a problem when she was applying at dives and burger places. They wanted her to look sexy, not classy. Intelligence was a hazard. Bad owners didn’t want their waitresses realizing that they could get treated better elsewhere. They wanted them stupid enough that they could be forced into submission, and they didn’t want to worry about petty complications like labor laws and minimum wage.
The Lotus Garden was different. It was the highest rated Asian restaurant in the city. They served fresh fish, right out of the water, and their pho was legendary. She once heard it compared to ambrosia, the nectar of the gods.
She could barely get herself to go and apply. She didn’t think they’d take somebody like her, who had worked ninety jobs and never once stayed longer than a year. Now she really had an interview, and the only thing she could put together was a gray tweed pantsuit from the eighties, paired with a yellow blouse.
It was looked authentically dated. It was ridiculous. She told herself that she wouldn’t let anything stop her from getting to that bus stop at one-thirty—the world could be ending, and she would be there on time. But she didn’t see the point if she was dressed like that.