To: Roman
From: xoxoMExoxo
What do you want to know? Do you want to know if I’m attractive? The simple answer is yes. The more involved answer is that I’ve noticed your eyes on me more than once so I’m quite positive that you’re attracted to me. Do you want to know if I like the same things that you like? The simple answer again is yes. We both have an affinity for art and music. You like to run and I like to run. You’re a loner with friends. I’m a loner with friends. We’re both passionate. Your passion is exposed in your art and when you talk about your art. My passion is exposed through my writing. I can express myself better with the written word. The same feelings you pull out of people with your art, I pull out of people with mine. One of these days I’ll show you the work you’ve inspired. I think they’ll leave you a little more than curious about who I am. I think they’ll leave you begging to know who I am. And that’s how I want you Roman. Begging for me.
*****
Holy shit. I swallowed thickly as I reread the last two lines. My mind may have known that the woman on the other end of the computer was batshit crazy, but my dick must have forgotten.
I took a deep breath as I hit reply. Closing my eyes, I tried to shake off the desire that curled deep in my gut and hardened my dick. Looking down at the tent I’d created in my shorts, I knew I didn’t want to respond to the message while in the state I was in. I didn’t want to react to it. I had to be smart. I had to stick to my plan. I’d been playing defense since I’d found that note on my mirror. My email to her was my first attempt at flipping the script and playing offense. The ball was in my court. It was only a matter of time that with her playing defense, she’d make a mistake.
So I have to stay focused, I thought, pulling my shorts down a little, adjusting myself.
Quickly finding the remote, I turned the television volume up so the sound of basketball commentators spouting off stats filled the room. Unable to focus just on the email or the length of time I’d been without sex, my body cooled down considerably.
Once I had calmed down, I laughed to myself. “This is ridiculous.”
Without rereading the email and ignoring all of the sexual innuendos, I hit reply.
*****
To: xoxoMExoxo
From: Roman
Anybody could know those things about me. I’m an artist and I use music in my studio and in my art exhibits. Most of the time I’m alone and I’m listening to music on my phone or iPod. Who is this?
*****
*****
To: Roman
From: xoxoMExoxo
You don’t really think I’m going to tell you that easily do you? I’m sure you’re used to women doing whatever you say. I can understand why though. You have a way of looking right through people. But when you’re engaged, when you’re actually conversing with people, you have no idea how intoxicating you are. It’s almost too much to have your attention. So now that I have it, I’m not ready to let that go yet. I won’t tell you who I am yet. But I will tell you this: I know you better than you think I do.
*****
*****
To:xoxoMExoxo
From: Roman
You’re not telling me anything that a stranger wouldn’t be able to guess. I’m over this.
*****
I was anything, but over it. I hit send and kept my eyes glued to the phone. As I waited for the return email, I found myself shifting my gaze from my phone to the list of women it could possibly be. My eyes kept landing on Hannah’s name.
It has to be Hannah. That’s the only thing that makes sense, I thought, feeling even more confident.
*****
To: Roman
From: xoxoMExoxo
Roman… who are you kidding? You’re not over this. We’re having fun. This is probably the most attention you’ve paid to anything that wasn’t your art or your friends. I saw you with them on the night of your showcase. I saw how they were the only people you seemed to converse with. You talked to everyone. You were nice and polite. You talked about your art. You described your pieces. When you got to me, you gave me a superficial description of the piece (even though we both know the darkness behind it) and you were very cordial, a complete gentleman. But when you were with your friends, your body language was different. Your smile was different. You were different. And I watched you and imagined you being that way with me. I want you to be that way with me.
*****
*****
To: xoxoMExoxo
From: Roman
How could I be that way with someone I don’t know at all? I don’t know you and you definitely don’t know me. You had my attention. But now, I think I’m going to stop engaging in this conversation. So whoever you are, take care.
*****
Shutting the email application down, I connected my phone to the charger and grabbed the remote. I flipped through the channels, landing on a comedy that I’d mildly enjoyed when it first came out in theaters, but the movie was no match for my curiosity.
If I don’t respond to her immediately, she’s going to have to give me something. More information. An admission about who she is. An admission about why she’s doing this. Anything. She’ll either give it to me willingly or she’ll slip up. One or the other, I thought as I stared at the television screen.
As soon as the ending credits started scrolling across the screen, I quickly disconnected my phone from the charger and opened my email. Staring at two messages, I noticed the thirty-six minute time difference between messages. Smiling, I felt like my plan had worked. Opening the first one, my smile faded slightly.
*****
To: Roman
From: xoxoMExoxo
I know you. I know you better than you think, Roman. I don’t know why you don’t believe me, but as the saying goes, I can show you better than I can tell you.
*****
The last time she showed me something, it was that she can get into my fucking house undetected. I have to figure out who this is and put a stop to this immediately, I thought, closing the email. Opening the second and most recent email, I froze as I read the short question enclosed.
*****
To: Roman
From: xoxoMExoxo
Tsk, tsk, Roman. Would you have ignored Tia like this?
*****
_____
Chapter Eight
I hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. I hadn’t received an email from the woman I suspected to be Hannah after the one that left me pacing and painting for two days. I hadn’t left the house or been in contact with anyone. My phone had rung a few times, but I hadn’t answered; I barely heard it over the blaring music. It wasn’t unusual for no one to see me for days, sometimes even weeks, so I knew no one would come looking for me. I needed space and time.
And I need to figure out how the hell Hannah or whoever it is emailing me knows about Tia, I thought as I streaked purple paint on the canvas.
Every time I closed my eyes for more than a second, I could see Tia’s face, so I kept painting. I kept myself awake and I kept painting. Blending the purple colors into the black background, I let myself get lost in the unique color being created. I wanted to lose myself and stop the flood of thoughts about what happened eight years ago.
A pounding knock at the door ripped me from my art. I turned the music down and listened for it again. The steady thump against the heavy door vibrated through the house. Turning the music back up, I tried to continue painting, but the knocking was persistent.
Cleaning the paintbrush and sliding it into the brush holder, I left my studio/office. Grabbing a paint-splattered t-shirt on my way, I took the stairs slowly.
Whoever decided to show up at my house unannounced can wait, I thought as I strolled to the front door. Peeking to see who was at the door, I stopped to pull the t-shirt on.
“What’s up, Easy?” I grunted as I opened the door for Brad. I had the music up so loud that I didn’t even hear his engine.
Brad grabb
ed my hand and slapped my back in our signature greeting. Without an invitation, he pushed by me and into the hallway.
“What’s up?” I repeated, folding my arms across my chest.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” Brad started, looking around the house casually. “I know three times in less than a week is unheard of, but I just wanted to make sure you were good.”
“Cut the shit, Easy,” I snapped.
“Okay fine.” He held his hands up. “You got me.
Elizabeth has been calling my mom and they’ve apparently been talking more than usual. But um…my mom came by my place last night and she’s worried.”
I knew Elizabeth and Mrs. Simon talked regularly. They had been best friends for thirty-something years. The last time Elizabeth or Mrs. Simon were worried enough to involve Brad was when everything had gone down eight years before. Since Brad’s very hands off, the fact that he’d shown up at my house with a concerned look on his face made me a little uneasy.
I took a deep breath. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Benjamin, man. Elizabeth is so worried about him that she has my mom worried. Since my dad is out of town on business, she showed up unannounced to talk my ear off about it.”
I felt my jaw clench as I shook my head. “Okay…”
People liked to characterize the relationship between Benjamin and me as a sibling rivalry. Maybe on his end that’s what it was, but for me, it wasn’t.
William and Elizabeth Harper got married and adopted me a couple years later in Richmond, Virginia. They said they wanted to live in a place that had four distinct seasons and it was close to their best friends, the Simons. However, when I turned five, having two kids that were walking and talking was too much for Elizabeth, so we moved back to Huntington, California for family support.
Growing up, I didn’t feel neglected because I wasn’t the biological child of William and Elizabeth. Even though I had darker features and I didn’t look like I belonged to the blonde parents, I felt a bond with them. They were the only parents I knew. Sometime when I went to middle school and Benjamin was still in elementary school, he started telling me and everyone who would listen that I wasn’t his real brother. Not understanding that our age difference was the reason I was allowed to do stuff that he couldn’t, he cried favoritism and a slow spark of hate simmered from that point forward.
It had reached a boiling point eight years ago and never recovered.
“Did you know Ben had taken the year off before going to grad school to travel?”
I looked at Brad blankly because he knew good and damn well I didn’t know.
“Well that’s what he’s been up to. He’s in Virginia now, and apparently he’s been telling Elizabeth that he wants to reach out to you, but the one time he tried, you didn’t respond to him.”
“Okay,” I said flatly. “He called me a few weeks ago and I was finishing up my pieces for the showcase. I didn’t call him back. I didn’t call anyone back. He’s no exception. We don’t talk. What’s the big deal this time?”
“He’s um…he’s sick and he wants to make amends.”
“He’s sick?” I asked, not quite sure if I trusted the information. Not because Brad was a liar, but because Ben was.
“Yeah, man. That’s what Elizabeth told my mom. She said he wants to make things right. He’s seen the light. Or some shit like that. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m just the messenger.”
I sighed and the dull ache that always gripped my chest when I thought about the past was back with a vengeance.
I can’t deal with this right now, I thought, running my hand against the back of my neck. My neck felt stiff and I was starting to feel the effects of forty-nine hours without sleep.
“Okay,” I said simply.
Not being one to push, Brad just nodded.
Walking past me, we bumped fists and he opened the front door halfway before turning around. The late afternoon sun poured into the already lit hallway, creating a shadow on Brad’s face. “Oh, what did you find out about the crazy chick?”
My head started throbbing at the mention of the problem at the forefront of my mind. “Nothing yet. I tried to get her to admit her name, but she wouldn’t. It has to be someone on that list though.”
“Well I know who it’s not.”
“Who?” I asked, curious as to how he could possibly remember anything from that night.
“I don’t think it’s your new boss lady or your neighbor. I pretty much know for a fact that it’s B.”
“It’s not B. Seriously.”
“Who do you think it is then?”
“It’s not B. That’s all I know for sure.” I don’t know why I hesitated to tell him about the last email or Hannah. “It’s definitely someone on that list though.”
“If it’s not B, it could possibly be Allie. Maybe. The way she was all upset about you at the gas station after you two stopped fucking, I wouldn’t be too surprised. But I still think it’s B. I thought she stayed back the other night to confess.”
“No. It’s not her,” I said through gritted teeth.
Holding his hands up, Brad chuckled. “Okay! It wouldn’t be a bad thing if it was her, though. She’s hot and she’s stacked. I was looking at her at the showcase and she just might be my type.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Easy,” I barked, pointing at the door.
“Not many things can get you riled up like this, but I think I’ve found your kryptonite.”
I balled my hands into fists and my breathing became labored. Lack of sleep and Easy’s jokes were wearing on my patience. Before I could say anything, he interrupted.
“Anyway, I brought her up because I saw her at Parachutes Bar. I guest DJed there last night. I was surprised to see her out with someone.”
“Who was she with?” I heard the aggravation in my voice and I tried to rein it in as I continued. “It was probably Ashton Blue. He asked her on a date recently.”
“She might have been on a date. I didn’t see a guy anywhere, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was on a date. She was wearing this sexy little—”
He stopped short once he noticed the look I was giving him.
“She looked nice,” Brad amended, with his hands up. “But the one time I saw her, she was with a girl. And to my knowledge, since she’s been back in Virginia, she doesn’t have any girlfriends.” Brad tilted his head to the side and rubbed his chin. “Unless she lied when she told me she didn’t have any girlfriends she could hook me up with. Oh shit, I think B got me.”
“So you were surprised that she was hanging out with a female? Come on, Easy. You are just wasting my time now.”
“No, I was surprised at how familiar B’s friend looked. It took me a minute, but I think I saw that girl she was with at the showcase.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “What did she look like?”
“Black hair…”
I couldn’t hear the rest of Brad’s description as my mind immediately flooded with images of the woman with the jet black hair and edgy haircut. Although I couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from across the room, the knot in my stomach told me they were hazel. From the gentle slope of her nose and the pouty lips, the woman I had forgotten came screaming back to my conscious mind. My heart dropped because I remembered why she looked familiar to me and I was pretty sure why she looked familiar to Brad.
Exhaling one big breath, I opened my mouth to say something when Brad’s car alarm started going off.
We looked at each other and then scrambled to the front porch.
Standing side by side, I scanned the neighborhood while Brad fumbled with his keys, disabling the alarm.
“That was weird,” Brad pointed out, walking down the steps toward his car. Turning around he shrugged. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Neither do I.” Looking up and down the street, I shook my head. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
He shrugged. “Maybe it
was a dog or a bird or something. But anyway…about that girl…”
We were both silent as two cars rolled by.
“The timing is weird,” he continued. “Especially with all this stuff going on with the crazy girl. Maybe you should add her to the list too. Because what are the odds?” He let out an uneasy laugh.
“She’s already on it. Remember the woman that B described with the black hair?”
Brad’s eyes widened and I saw the realization sink in.
“What the fuck?” He mumbled under his breath, running his hand through his hair. “Wow…”
Turning my head, I stared at the mailbox as if I expected it to talk back. “Yeah, I know,” I said, avoiding eye contact.
“It obviously isn’t her.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince me.
“I know.”
“She looked so much like that picture of you two at prom.”
“I know.”
“She—”
“I’m not trying to go there right now.” I ran my hands down my face, willing myself to breathe normally.
He looked at me and nodded. “I understand.” He was quiet for a minute before he added, “But if you ever need to, we can. You’re like a brother to me.”
Easy could be an ass sometimes, but he had always been there for me. I knew, without a doubt, he had my back and after what I had been through, loyalty was invaluable.
“You too. You know that,” I said as we bumped fists.
Giving him a short wave as he made his way to his car, I tried to remain calm until I was behind the closed door.
How could I have forgotten the woman who looked like Tia? I wondered, struggling to get ahold of my breathing. My heart thudded in my chest as I ran up the steps. This should be the happiest time in my life. My art work is finally getting attention. I have representation. I sold every piece from my showcase. I should be happy. Instead, I’m stuck dealing with all these things that bring me back to my past: the creepy pen pal I never asked for, this information about Elizabeth and Ben, Tia’s lookalike.
While showering, I kept replaying my anticlimactic fight with Bianca. She was mad because she opened up to me and I didn’t open up to her. She was mad because I yelled at her. She was mad and she had every right to be mad. Even though I had every right to not tell her anything I didn’t want to tell her, I still understood why she was upset. Part of me questioned if our friendship would recover, but the other part of me had no doubt. Part of me was a realist and the other part of me felt like the friendship we had was special.
Heartache Page 10