by B. L. Berry
But the worst part about it all?
This is entirely my fault. I let my guard down. I trusted him and that was purely my mistake.
His love was simply a drug by any other name. His kisses, cocaine. His touch, ecstasy. It’s addicting. It’s debilitating. And it has completely fucked up my life. But falling in love is the greatest high I’ve ever experienced. It made me feel incredible if only for a little while. Is the high really worth the pain of coming down? This painful withdrawal that makes me question everything. For the past few months, Phoenix has been my crutch, my addiction. And I hate how I’ve become dependent on him. How my soul craves him. How my head and my heart are at war with each other.
Phoenix is the drug I can no longer allow myself to take advantage of. And at this moment, I feel like I’m coming down from a horrible high.
And frankly, I’m not sure if it’s worth all of this searing hurt. With pain of this magnitude, how can love ever be worth it? Judging from my parents’ relationship, or my sister and the sultan of spunk bubbles as Rachel so eloquently put it … I’m just not sure that love, or what people perceive love to be, is enough.
When I walk into the apartment, I’m not greeted by Phoenix blaring the latest Foo Fighters or the sound of nineties sitcoms in syndication in the background. There is no one here to kiss me deeply and say, “Why are you home so early? Not that I’m complaining or anything.”
There is only the shaky sound of my own breathing and the rattling hum of the damn motor in the old refrigerator. I should really call the landlord and get that fixed.
Our apartment is so much bigger now that he has moved out some of his belongings. Then again, I guess it’s my apartment now in spite of the constant reminders of him and our life and love together. This morning I found one of his old T-shirts tucked into my drawer when I was putting laundry away. I cracked when I pulled it out and sobbed for a solid hour.
How could I have been so stupid? Falling for a guy I barely knew. Or rather, a guy I thought I knew.
As if on cue, my phone rings and a photo of Rachel and I from my last visit to Chicago fills the screen. I really need to find a way to make my arms longer because both of our heads are cut off from our horrible attempt at selfie.
“Hi,” I say meekly and curl up on the couch.
“Hey, sweetie ... how are you holding up?”
“I'm alive. So that should count for something, right?” I look across the room at the bookshelf. It's lifeless ever since I took down the picture frames that held memories of us around New York City.
Lifeless ... just like me.
Rachel sighs in my ear. “Have you talked to him at all?”
“No, I haven't. I can't.” I run my fingers over the throw pillow on the couch that we picked out together. I hate that I can't see the imprint of his body sunken into the pillows anymore. I hate that he's not here. And I hate that I hate myself for missing him.
I need to make myself angry. I don't hurt nearly as much when I'm angry with him. It helps mask all the pain I'm feeling deep inside. “Did I tell you he called me a bitch?” I say, trying to change the subject to one of hurt to one of anger.
“He what? Doesn't he know that I'm the only one allowed to call you a bitch?” she shrieks into the phone. “When did he say this?”
“The other morning when my life imploded. I told him what he did to Genevieve was no different from what Sully did to me.” Rage starts to bubble within at the thought of that conversation before I left him behind to collect his things.
“Ouch. Don’t you think that was kind of harsh, Ivy?”
Feel the anger.
Embrace the anger.
Own the anger.
“It's the truth, isn’t it?”
“Oh, sweetie ...” Rachel goes silent for a few moments. “You know how much I love you, right?”
“Uh huh.” I don't like how she's prefacing this. I clench the throw pillow to my chest like a lifeline.
“But as your best friend, I need to tell you I think you're looking at everything completely wrong. You have every right to be upset about this whole situation. Really, you do. But I think you've been acting out of anger so you don't have to feel vulnerable and hurt.”
“You don't think I'm hurting right now?” I grip my cell phone tightly and fight the urge to throw it across the room at her insinuation. I'm hurting to the point where I don't remember what it's like to exist without this kind of pain. It is all-consuming.
“No, I know for a fact you're hurting,” she says pragmatically. “But don’t you see that you're hurting and angry and upset because you care about him so fucking much? If you didn’t love him, and if you didn’t want to work things out, I think you’d be acting differently right now.”
Rachel pauses for dramatic effect. “Besides, don’t you remember what happened with Ivan?”
His name was actually Evan, but I don’t want her to recount the story to me. And I remember all too well how I slept with Carter on a Friday night, not realizing he was Evan’s roommate until the next morning. Evan and I were going out on Saturday night, or at least we were until he saw me parading out of Carter’s room wearing nothing but his boxers and a wife beater. Evan punched Carter and word has it that their friendship never recovered. But I had taken the path of indifference and pretty much brushed off the whole debacle before I ever made it home that day.
“That was different,” I quip, wanting to avoid this trip down memory lane.
“Exactly. It was different because you didn’t care. And Matt and Geoff and Parker and Charlie and your entire little black book of guys were different from what you’re going through with Phoenix. And it’s different for the most obvious reason. Think about that, Ivy.”
I sigh into the phone.
“Besides, maybe Phoenix was right? Maybe at that moment you really were being a bitch and he called you out on your shit because he loves you enough to not let you walk all over him and destroy your relationship? I know that doesn't make it right, but maybe he's not the only one who was wrong?”
I'm not sure I agree with her on that. I would never call him an asshole to his face even if I thought he was acting like one. But I guess I see what she's saying.
I chew on my bottom lip as I think back to our fight.
“Ivy, you’re not always the easiest to love, hon. Don’t get me wrong, I adore you. You’re my best friend and have been for years. But you have a bad habit of keeping people at arms length the instant things get tough. Even me.”
Her voice is thick with pain and earnestness. I want to stop her right there and correct her. Even after learning that Phoenix had lied about Hailey, I worked hard to not push him away, even when my instincts told me otherwise. I forced myself to see the good in our situation. Convinced myself that he was telling me the truth. Took a chance and blindly trusted him. Pretended that it was all a misunderstanding. But then the truth of Genevieve came to light. And I had to push him away. I can't have that kind of toxicity in my veins. I needed to remove all traces of him from my life.
“Listen, you’re a diamond in the rough, Ivy. Sure, you may be crystal clear, unbreakable, strong and even precious. But diamonds are capable of cutting anything in their way. He’s just a boy. And at their very core, boys are kind of dumb. I don’t want you to do any permanent damage because you and I both know deep down that he is the best possible man for you. I don't want you to break him beyond all belief. Because if you break him, you're going to break yourself.”
“Rachel he isn't—”
“No, he is. And it’s time for you to stop trying to convince yourself otherwise. Sure he fucked up. But newsflash, Ivy, love doesn't keep a running tally of your fuck ups. Besides, you’ve made mistakes in the past, too. You’ve just never stuck around long enough for anyone to forgive you. I really think you need to put your pride aside and at the very least hear him out. You don’t have to forgive him. But you do need to allow yourself the opportunity to be open to forgiving him. Even if things
don't work out between you two, doing that will at least give you the closure you need to move on. Otherwise, he's going to be taking up indefinite residence in your head, and more importantly your heart, until you go crazy or die trying to move past him.”
Shit. She's right.
If I continue to push him away, I'll always wonder. I'll always hang onto the hurt and allow that to spoil all of the good that once was. I walk into the kitchen and pull open the junk drawer. I take out my favorite photo of us that, as of a few days ago, was hanging on the world's worst refrigerator. I trace my fingers over his face and my heart jumps with mixed emotions.
“I’ll think about it,” I whisper.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay. Call me soon.”
We say our goodbyes and her voice wraps me in a hug powerful enough to cross half of the country.
RACHEL’S SUGGESTION HAUNTS ME LONG into the evening. The simple truth of the matter is this ordeal consuming my mind and will continue to do so until I do something about it. I can either hold onto the anger and the rage or I can chip away at it piece by piece.
I grab my phone and scroll through the contact list mindlessly before pushing the call through.
Just as I’m about to hang up after the fourth ring, the line connects.
“Ivy? Is that you? Is everything okay?” The voice is as surprised to hear from me as I am that I actually dialed the number.
“Hey Gen. Yeah ... I’m okay.” Before I can even consider facing Phoenix again, I need to start a little closer to home. Admittedly, it’s kind of nice to hear her voice as much as I hate what happened.
“I’ve been actually meaning to call you ... well, Phoenix rather. Can I talk to him for a quick second? My pulse quickens and my stomach instantly knots at her request. What the hell does she want to talk to him about?
“Uh, he’s not here,” I mumble, trying to reign in the tears and keep my imagination from running rampant at the thought of the two of them together. “He’s out of town. Visiting his dad for a few days.” It’s not a lie, but I’m not in the mood to tell her the truth about my current relationship status.
“Okay… Well, when you see him next would you tell Phoenix I said thanks?
Huh? Thanks?
“What for?”
“He went on record and detailed the times he witnessed CJ’s improper behavior. Let’s just say that with the charges coming against him he is going to be the state’s problem for a quite a while. Phoenix’s statement was the missing piece needed to up his charge count.”
I had no idea. When did he even find time to do that?
“Oh ...” My voice trails off and I start to feel a bit of relief. “Sure ... No problem, Gen.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound okay. Is something going on?” She actually sounds concerned ... sisterly.
I’m not entirely sure how to respond. I hadn’t planned on what to say if she actually picked up.
“I ... No. I’m not okay actually. But I will be.” I sigh, hoping that’s the truth. “Look ... the reason I called was to say I’m sorry for being a raging bitch to you. And that I genuinely forgive you for what had happened.” I imagine she thinks my forgiveness is for the drama that happened with her fiancé and my overall bitchtastic attitude toward her. I have no idea if she even realizes she slept with Phoenix all those years ago, but given her history I doubt it.
I chew the inside of my cheek, debating whether or not I should even bring it up in conversation, but decide against it. If she remembers having sex, it’ll only crush me knowing that she lied and kept it a secret, just like Phoenix. And if she doesn’t remember, it will only confuse her and potentially make things significantly worse. I’m not sure I want to deal with either of those scenarios playing out. I’m better off letting her make of it what she will. I’ve resented her for long enough. And I need to learn to let go of that bitterness. I know just doesn’t magically disappear overnight, but I know that this is a small step in the right direction.
Sure, Genevieve may not deserve my forgiveness for everything she’s done to me over the past two decades. But I deserve the peace that comes with letting it go. I am worthy of that.
“Thank you for accepting my apology. But for what it’s worth, when I had left Rachel’s apartment that night I had already forgiven you. You don’t need to hear someone’s apology to forgive them in your heart.” When the hell did she get so wise? I’m not sure truer words have ever been spoken.
We sit on the line in silence, her words about forgiveness replaying in my mind over and over again. I’m not sure that I could forgive Phoenix so easily, if at all. He lied directly to my face and on more than one occasion. When my blood starts to boil at the memory of his lies, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Ivy?”
“Yeah, Gen?” I take a deep, sleepy breath and run my fingers through the fringe on the throw blanket on the couch.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” And this time I actually mean it.
MY STOMACH TWISTS IN KNOTS and I can't focus on anything other than the phone ringing on my desk. It's my boss. Even though he approved it, he's pissed that I'm leaving for St. Louis in the morning with such short notice. He needs to chill the fuck out. I'm ahead of schedule at work since I've been spending upwards of fifteen hours a day here. He can't expect the best work out of me when I want to be giving my best to someone else.
I know Ivy has my letter. I missed her this morning by only a few minutes. After I’d dropped the paper crane off with Farrah, I crossed the street to hail a cab to head to the office. Just as one pulled up to the curb, I saw her walk through the front door.
She looked beautifully pained. I can only image how much she's hurting. How horribly I've hurt her. I kind of hate myself.
Part of me is relieved that she wasn't there. No doubt I would have been on my knees in front of her begging for her forgiveness ... her understanding. Though if the tables were turned, I'm not sure I'd have it in me to be that compassionate.
Farrah was a little surprised to see me, but she swore that she would make sure Ivy got the paper crane. When I asked Farrah how Ivy had been doing, she simply gave me the look of are you really fucking asking me this right now?
Sigh. Yes, I know better.
With any luck, Ivy will reach out this afternoon. I have to make it up to her. I need her to hear me out. But she needs to be willing to let me in again. And I'm not certain I've earned that right.
The minute hand is quickly approaching the top of the hour as the short hand points to three. It's been over six hours. Six long hours and nothing. If this crushing silence is her answer, I'm not sure I'm ready to know just yet. Because I'm not sure I could live without her in my life. And I'm certainly not ready to accept a life without her.
Ivy is unlike any other woman I’ve ever known. I never imagined that I could be with someone like her. She is the abstract painting in my life. Even though I know I will never fully understand it, I am instantly drawn to its beauty, complexity and hidden meaning.
A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts.
“Are you sure you're okay, Phoenix?” my boss asks as he pops his head into my small office. He knows something is up. I work hard, but he can tell I'm distracted. I've been here late every night the past week but producing less work than I did before our fall out.
“Yeah, thanks.”
He comes inside and leans against the corner of my desk. “When do you leave?”
“My flight takes off first thing in the morning.” But with Ivy's radio silence part of me is tempted to change my flight to tonight.
I hold out hope that she'll call me when she gets off work tonight.
But I don't hold my breath.
I’M THANKFUL TO BE BACK at work the next day, even though it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open.
I’m sitting on the ground between tw
o sculptures, and looking around the gallery, I’m really proud of how well this is coming together. To the untrained eye, it’s just junk. To my left, chunks of metal welded together with colorful tiles glued in place. But Brock tells me that when we turn the lights down and the spotlights on, we’ll be treated to an incredible shadow of the Chrysler building on the wall behind me. To my right, the antique brooms that are fashioned together will show a family of evergreen trees. I’m looking forward to finally getting the electrician in to help affix the lighting so I can experience the shadows come to life.
It’s truly amazing how nothing is what it seems with this installation.
We’ve got our hands full the next few days getting the rest of the pieces set and lights adjusted before the press preview on Friday night. I jot down a few reminders of things I need to finalize before the show officially opens.
“You’re normally not this chipper in the morning.” Brock drops his tattered messenger bag on the floor by the door and comes and sits down next to me.
I don’t even fight the urge to scowl at him. I thought a mental health day would help, but after I hung up with Rachel all I did was sit on my couch in Phoenix’s old shirt eating ice cream out of the carton. By the time I realized it was almost midnight, I’d cried until my eyes were swollen shut. Apparently being in my own miserable company was a terrible idea.
“Coffee?”
He offers me a paper cup and I take a small sip. It’s too sugary and apparently has half a bottle of syrup in it, making it taste like complete shit. But I don’t have it in me to complain. Brock isn’t one for kind gestures, so I accept his generosity before he gets mercurial.
“Thanks.”
My shoulders slump as I go back to reviewing the guest list for opening night. I’m not sure how we’re going to fit everyone in here, we will no doubt be pushing fire code capacity.