Eluding Nirvana

by King, V. L.

  Oh, my God, was this woman for real? We’d only been on the block for ten minutes, and I already knew I wasn’t going to be looking at this poor Mr. Rogers without knowing his dirty laundry. I studied her mouth rapidly moving, but her words were a simple gathering of high-pitched muffles.

  “It’s lovely meeting new people, building friendships and what-not. And you seem like a lovely couple.”

  Liam and I merely smiled at one another. By the expressions we were honing, we were obviously on the same wavelength.

  “I’m Mrs. Steinbeck and I live just next door.” She pointed to a chocolate-colored house with a swinging sofa on the porch. Before either of us could reflect her hospitality, she stumbled on. “We’re a very tight-knit community here in Bricksdale, Mr. DeLaney, so if you have any questions or you need any help, no matter what, please feel free to pop around and ask.” Her enthusiasm was giving me a bastard headache. Still, a part of me couldn’t help but find her slightly amusing.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Steinbeck, we’ll keep that in mind.” He grinned his polite grin, the one which is typically used to dismiss people. However, she didn’t seem to catch on and remained stood stock-still on the sidewalk as we approached the house.

  I was being steered up the steps when she called, “Like I said, day or night, my door is always open.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Steinbeck,” Liam retorted over his shoulder.

  “No, thank you, Mr. DeLaney. This is very exciting. I am going to bake some banana bread. I’ll pop some over later for you both.” And she shuffled away as we stepped over the threshold.

  “She’s going to be one of those nosey neighbors, isn’t she?” Liam questioned, his back firmly pushing the barrier shut.

  “Liam,” I hissed. “Don’t be too quick to stereotype people.”

  He gazed at me pointedly, his eyebrows meeting his hairline.

  “But yes, I think she might be.”

  Chapter Nine

  January 2012

  Seventeen months before the accident…

  Three weeks. That’s it. Three short weeks, or twenty-one long days, refer to it as you will, it’s all the same.

  Three weeks ago, we moved from Dorchester to Bricksdale.

  I sat in Liam’s BMW cuddling my blender like it was going to save me from taking the next gigantic step in my life. Terrified, I was led up the front steps and into a house that was cold, empty, and far from home. I was led into a shell of bricks and mortar with such weighted anxiety that Liam had to end the grand tour because I couldn’t do anything other than cry. Regardless of how many pep talks I gave myself, I knew this was a big deal, and I should have been ecstatic with the gesture. I knew buying a house was huge, and Liam jumping in feet first to offer me this filled my heart with unconditional love and made the wad of guilt in my head and stomach punch its way to the surface.

  Warm, loving arms came around me as I cried in the room (which was to become Liam’s office). Soft, cajoling sounds emitted and vibrated from his throat as my head nuzzled into his chest. “Shhh. I’m happy and overwhelmed too, but I’m not crying,” he murmured against my scalp.

  I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I was mourning the loss of the apartment—the place where we created three years of memories. Unfortunately, unlike physical possessions, we couldn’t withdraw each memory from the walls and place them in their very own box to move with us and free them in the shell I found myself standing in to make it feel more like home. Home was what you made it, and in that moment, as I softly swayed in Liam’s generous arms and listened to him pacify me, breathing in his Godly scent and feeling the warmth of his chest beneath his shirt, I made a silent promise to him and to me; that I would do everything I could to make this a happy home.

  I was standing in the heart of the living room while I thought back to the barrenness of the property only a while ago. Three weeks prior, I had only been surrounded by that of hardwood flooring and cream walls. It had been the same throughout. It’s astonishing how much you can change and achieve in such short time, if you put your mind to it.

  Thick, luxurious cream carpeting now rests where the hard floor once took place. The surrounding walls coated in vibrant creams and gold. I never knew how cream could be considered a vibrant color, but it was. A Grecian theme flowed throughout the entire property, apart from Liam’s office of course. I was even now perplexed with the insistence I’d shown with selecting a neutral pallet. I had always opted for darker, warmer colors. Yet, I think subconsciously, I was considering the lengths someone would go to, to ensure that a shade so bright would go unsullied.

  I had hoped that being surrounded by such pristine valuables and upholstery would be a hushed reminder to stray away from ungainliness. I silently hoped it would remind Liam how clumsy I can get and therefore, avoid actions which could prompt me to soil what his hard earned money was spent on.

  Even so, within the melded twenty-one days past, the fresh, unblemished canvas that was our home had begun to slowly fill and pattern with new memories. Through the bottom archway I strolled with a faint smile on my face and surfaced in the conjoined dining room and kitchen. New glass surfaced a dining table with six white-leather, high-backrest seats and a crystal chandelier hung in the center of the table governing the room with the white-and-oak-surfaced island blatantly dominating the kitchen.

  Dinner was cooking, and I was perched up on the kitchen island. Liam wedged himself between my thighs before he slipped me off and laid me down on the cold, tiled flooring alongside the range. He took me for his pleasure, tantalizing my mind.

  A gasp passed my lips as he lunged into me with momentum. I was a moth to the flame as the heat waves radiated from the large black door against my left knee. My thighs fell open farther, and my flesh momentarily stuck to the broiling metal door. Although it hurt like a bitch, it did something to me…for me. I felt something that I’d never felt before. One thing was for certain: I felt confused and to some extent, ashamed by the mere fact that a part of me reveled in it…needed it.

  The concoction of feelings which simmered inside my head as we bickered over my entitlement to inform my family that we no longer lived in Dorchester was fogging up my mind. I hadn’t spoken to them for so long, and in that moment, I couldn’t see or think clearly.

  Frustration, desire, longing, anger, dejection…it was too much.

  The inability to focus on one solitary emotion was ripping my mind and heart to shreds, and for the first time ever, Liam fucking me into realization wasn’t going to help defog the shit in my head. It was the pain, shock, and tenderness of the wound which was my anchor and guided me through my aimless moment.

  With that memory, and the freeness I felt warming my blood, I held the edge of the towel which was wrapped around my dripping tresses, before pressing the lower half of my short, satin robe against my thigh, and peeked down at my left knee. The flesh, once red and shining thanks to that night, had turned into a dimmer hue and lost its sheen-like surface.

  Surprisingly, even the stairs were a catalyst to add a smile to my face, as I recalled him taking me on them on our first night. My hand coiled around one of the wooden beams, my legs bound around his waist, while each forceful thrust had the edge of each stair burrowing into my back.

  And then there was the front door, which had been knocked on by Mrs. Steinbeck so many occasions in such a short time, I was sure the wood was weakening.

  Steinbeck…where did I even begin with that woman?

  Thanks to her and her constant disruptions, and the one occasion she took it on to let herself into our home, Liam was growing beyond conscious. Ever since that happening, each morning as I saw him off to work, he’d kiss me and mutter the same thing, “Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it to anyone.” And I did.

  The only time his instruction went unheeded was when Liv decided to pop by at lunch in a desperate need for advice. Apparently, a guilty conscience is a bitch. After I told Liam that Liv had stopped by, he fired question after qu
estion, statement after statement. And once again I was left to feel like a scolded child and inferior.

  So on the morning that I remembered and examined the colorful memories newly embedded into our new walls, as Liam leaned down to place a soft goodbye kiss on my forehead, he had asked for my keys.

  My brow furrowed as I pulled away and studied his calculating eyes. “What? Why do you need my keys, Liam?” I asked with great caution.

  “Because, Kady baby.” He set his briefcase on the hardwood floor of the hallway and cradled my face, the tips of his fingers burrowed under my towel attached to my head ever so slightly. “I have told you time and time again not to answer the door for your own safety.”

  I scowled. What did he mean, ‘for my own safety’? I thought this neighborhood had the lowest crime rates in Boston?

  The spikes of the spider’s web peeking from his collar strained as his tendon flexed in the left side of his neck, while his eyes hardened and his jaw became taught. Not a day went by anymore where I wouldn’t be halted and restrained by those uncompromising gems. “Do not scowl at me, Kady. I’m looking out for you. I’m keeping you safe. I’m not going to start my day off with your cheek. Now, be a good girl.” He held out his hand and there it remained until I eventually conceded on an overthrown sigh.

  Twisting around to the sideboard along the balustrade of the stairs, I fished my keys out of the bowl and turned back to Liam. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, setting my key into his waiting palm.

  “Thank you. That wasn’t hard now, was it?”

  I shook my head and as the warm pad of his thumb came down to caress my lower lip, I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Now I can work without worrying about where you are and if you’re safe.” His thumb was replaced by his lips.

  Pulling away, he informed me of his expected delay home from work…again. This will be the sixth late night in two weeks. Nevertheless, I smiled like any dutiful partner would when she saw her significant other off to work. As the door closed behind him and I heard the key twist in the lock, I hugged my arms around my body, silently screaming at the four walls for holding me prisoner.

  Chapter Ten

  It was pointless sitting in the house, enclosed by four walls and moping. I trudged from the dining room back through the living room and up the stairs, the padding of bare feet seemingly loud throughout the stillness of the house, to get myself dressed.

  Turning the corner on the landing, I stepped through the first door on the right, and was engulfed by sunbeams as they seared through the large bay window opposite the door. It made the four-poster, satin-adorned bed shimmer and glisten. The heavy satin drapes were drawn back perfectly, offering a view of the cushioned bench in the bay.

  It was a bedroom worthy of a luxury hotel. One I was overjoyed that I created.

  If it wasn’t for the swift tightness I felt upon my brow, I would have forgotten about the towel wrapped and twisted upon my head from my morning shower. Strolling around the foot of the bed to the dresser, I unraveled the fluffy material and set to work, quickly blow-drying my locks. I wasn’t expected to be anywhere to need looking presentable anyway, not with my keys in Liam’s pocket, so now with bouncy, shiny blonde hair, I opted for an old pair of denim shorts and a red camisole.

  The bedroom door was closed behind me when I exited the room. I was shuffling along the upper passageway in my fluffy slippers when someone knocked on the front door. My throat was introduced to my stomach before freefalling back into position. Uneven and ragged, my breathing came in short pants while sweat began to bead down the crevice of my spine.

  Steady and silent, I lowered myself onto each stair as if the person on the opposite side of the door would think no one was home.

  When the knock sounded again, I was halfway down the stairway and found myself lowering my body to take a seat on the cold, smooth surface, like a young child creeping down the stairs in the middle of the night after hearing her parents arguing.

  “Kady?” I was summoned after another impatient knock was issued. “Kady, its Laurie, open up.”

  The sag of relief which passed through my body was all but fleeting. My hackles rose, my back stiffened when I remembered I had no key to open the damn door. Just another measure Liam went to to keep me safe—double cylinder locks. Slipping myself from the step, I held the balustrade with a fierce grip of my right hand and my left hand slowly skated over the cold, painted wall to my left as I warily descended. “Laurie—”

  “Kady?” she responded. “What’s taking so long? Come on, I have something. People are looking at me like I’m a fruit loop out here talking to a bloody door.”

  I wanted to giggle at her disposition. But I couldn’t. Nothing about this situation was funny. Liam’s constant fear for my safety was vastly becoming my own. I knew damn well Laurie was a friend, and there was no way she was packing chloroform and handcuffs in her purse, with some plan to abduct or harm me. But I was still paranoid. For what, I don’t know. I think a part of it was the likelihood of questioning and interrogation to which I didn’t have the answers and anxiety of anybody’s tarnished opinions of my relationship. I suppose most of it was the fear that I would be the one to cause that tarnished opinion.

  Lowering myself from the last step, I took four strides to the barrier that was holding me prisoner and set my hand on my cell door. I muttered the first thing that sprang into my head. “Laurie, there’s something wrong with the door.”

  “What do you mean, something wro—”

  Please sound believable. Please sound believable. Please sound believable. “It keeps jamming. I think the wood is swelling too much for the frame. Liam’s going to get it fixed. I can’t open it until the handyman comes out.”

  Vibrations journeyed through the wood to caress my palm, and I knew Laurie had just tossed her head against the surface. “Okay, you open the patio door and I’ll go around the back.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I hated lying, but it had been somewhat of a natural occurrence over recent months. Actually, the voice in my head considered it more of a necessity. “I locked it last night and I can’t find the key.”

  “So what am I supposed to do, Kady? Go all cat burglar and climb in through the window?”

  I smiled. “No, just…” Words faded as I exhaled a crippling, defeated sigh. You’d think I’d be used to being on my own by now. “Just go home and I’ll see you another day.”

  A loud snort of protest was promptly followed by: “Hell no. I got a bag of shit here. I thought we could have some fun and relax.”

  “You want to relax with a bag of shit?” That was a line in which I couldn’t stifle the amusement in my tone, and it felt so good to laugh. Laurie did have a way with words.

  “Is the spare patio key still under Mr. Pointy?” Mr. Pointy was the garden gnome that she had gifted us when we moved in. Apparently, every backyard needs a freaky little dude with a fishing rod. Laurie had taken it on to name him Mr. Pointy thanks to his pointy nose.

  I shrugged to myself. “I don’t know. Maybe…”

  “Okay,” she said, and I heard a bag rustle. “I’m going around the back. Thank the heavens you don’t have a freaking guard dog.”

  While I heard her scurrying down the front steps, I made my way through to the kitchen and set two mugs on the counter. Next thing I know, the pale, petite woman sporting loose-fitted, faded jeans, a pink hoodie, and black ballet pumps was skipping down the pathway, swinging her bag and waving frantically at me as I stood observantly in front of the window at the sink. Amused by her degree of enthusiasm, I shook my head and sniggered. Dorothy and your wicker basket, eat your heart out; Laurie and her bag of shit were just as entertaining.

  A small hand was lifted in the air and beams of sunlight caressed the silver metal keys as she swung them in a form of triumph. Before I registered what was happening, the double glass doors along the right wall of the dining room were sliding open, and a very lively Laurie, who decided that purple work best for her ban
gs, was stepping inside.

  “I did it!” she bellowed victoriously, sliding the door closed and rounding the dining table. “I broke in, and didn’t even chip a nail.”

  Eyes rolled heavenward, I shook my head. “You are completely off your rocker.”

  “That’s the best way to be, girlie. You only attract your own kind, that’s when the fun really happens.”

  With her bag set down on the island, I asked if she wanted coffee. The tipping of her lips along with dark eyebrows meeting her hairline was my soundless answer.

  Onyx liquid was poured into the waiting cups before the pot was placed back on its stand. The steam swirled weightlessly as I slipped the beverage across the island, prompting her to take possession of the caffeinated goodness almost immediately, and an overly dramatic sigh of approval, unfettered from her throat. The bag of goodies, or using Laurie’s selection of words, ‘the bag of shit’, was gestured towards with a light tip of my brow as the warmth of the liquid radiated through the ceramic, heating my fingers. “What’s in the bag then?”

  She swallowed her mouthful and lowered the cup back onto the wood. “Here”—her hand dipping inside caused a loud rustling—“we have a combination that, when added together, helps relax and can be used for comfort.”

  Okay, now I was scared.

  Each time she drew a new item out of that bag, my stomach knotted. Finally, my gaze drifted from the assortment of ingredients that sat on my counter, up to the round-faced woman sporting a grin, which to be honest, looked too big for her face. Her hazel eyes sparkled with zeal.

  I was sure the amount of air I had sucked into my lungs was tiptoeing on bursting point. Eyes narrowed, I asked, “Call me dense, but wha—”

  “We’re going to bake a cake,” she replied matter-of-factly, and my once narrowed eyes were now wide with alarm. No way was I doing that. We only just moved here, there was no way was I going to put myself into a position where I could be responsible for turning the place into a pile of ashes.