by Lipa Nandes
"Close your eyes," He asks me.
What? I do not think I can close my eyes for long; otherwise, it could happen the same as happened at the train station. Shit!
I don't want this again because I already know where I can end up. "Please." He begged.
I closed them, but the panic inside me was making me thoroughly agitated. I could not think, but I guess this was a good thing.
"I love you, Clark," He told me kissing my earlobe. His breath was racing, and his heart pounded, just like mine.
Stay focused on his words Neva, please. My subconscious warned me.
"You are the only chance for me to be happy." He adds with a much more despair voice.
I can not help but feel myself, excited about everything that is happening; his hands travel all over my body. Like a road yet to discover, and though he knows all my nooks.
Well, it's as if his touch were new to me, and that made me feel things that I did not know it was possible. I was trying so hard to stay on my own, not get off of it. I needed to be with him one hundred percent, and I needed to get my feet on the ground because I never know how far my mind can take me.
But then!
Shit. I lost control of myself.
My mind took off, and I felt myself floating.
Patrick's lips run over my body, leaving a trail of kisses that glow in the dark, giving me new hope to find happiness or even love. His hands go down as the kisses. Then his lips stop right at the line of my waist staying there for a while. It is making me more and more excited, and breathing becomes more and more impossible. I want him, and I want him inside of me, now more than ever. My hands cling to his hair, making some pressure for him to go a little lower. But he resists to my failed attempt to have him wherever I want. The left hand ascends through my leg with only the tips of his fingers. My skin is all shivered by all those sensations simultaneously. I feel that I can faint at any moment; it is the heat of the water, the vapor that filled the bathroom that will not let me breathe or all his slow action against me.
Shit! What is happening to me.
"Neva," I heard him call for me.
"Go further down, please," I begged with my eyes still close.
But then his hand disappeared from my leg, and I no longer felt his head in my hand, and for a moment, I began to doubt whether I was delirious or if I was dreaming.
"Clark, are you okay?" Again his voice is throbbing in my head.
I opened my eyes, and he was utterly standing in front of me. His look was so confused about what has happened.
Oh my god, I took off again, fuck!
"Sorry," I told him. My voice was shaky, my hands were shaking, and within me, was chaos. When this happens to me, I can never distinguish reality from my fantasy, and it becomes
dangerous for me because then my mind turns fantasy into
reality, and I let myself be deceived by it.
It's all so complicated.
He brought his hands up to my face and with his thumbs stroked my cheeks.
"You don't have to apologize for anything, I got you, babe." He told me kissing my forehead.
I let my head fall on his chest as he ran his hand through my wet hair.
After my little adventure inside my head, my breathing returned to normal, my heart returned to his regular beat, and after that, I was able to enjoy not only Patrick's company but how to taste a little of what he can give me.
He washed my hair, my body, and even a little of the soul I have left. I had never experienced this kind of thing; I didn't know that this was possible to happen in real life, because I usually only saw this sort of thing in the movies.
After we both showered and were ready to leave, we went to the back yard to tell Miles that we were going to go out, but when we found him, he was erased in the chair. With his head fall back and his mouth half-open.
How drunk should he be to sleep in that position?
We left the house, and the first thing Patrick did was give me his hand, interlacing his fingers in mine. I look to our hands together for a little, and it feels so perfect, so right for me to be with him. In a way, I could feel a bit more complete with him. I looked at him through the corner of my eyes and could see a smile forming on his lips; it was so beautiful and peaceful that even had the power to calm myself down too.
I was more than ready to enjoy a good night, no dramas, no fuss, no shit that could shake me again.
As we walked down the street, my eyes, to my unhappiness, kept trying to read the people passing by, and my mind starts to build up stories for those peoples.
Don't Neva; you cannot do this now; control yourself. Say my inner voice.
I think I should listen to my inner voice more often if I wanted to continue to have peace.
"What a beautiful couple, I bet-" My mind told me when a couple walked past us making their way home or someplace else.
Shut up, I said inwardly to my mind!
Not now, please. I beg!
"At nightfall, she found herself-" Again my mind wanted to get the best of me, but I could not even let that happen to me.
"Shut up," I yelled. Patrick and the people who were passing by us began to look at me; I shook my head because I was not going to take me for defeated, I could not give myself up; otherwise, it would happen again and with more intensity.
Fuck!
"You okay?" Patrick asked me, standing in front of me. He held my hands trembling and tried to calm me with his hug.
I will not cry; I will not cry. I thought to myself.
"I'm— I mean..." I sighed! Patrick's perfume invaded my nostrils, and instantly, I felt pinned to the ground as if he was my full gravity.
Why did the same not happen to me in the shower? It would have been less strange if that had happened.
"Yes, I'm fine, it's just this thing inside my head, you know!" I don't think he has any idea what I'm talking about, but my explanation was pointless enough because he did not ask me any questions. Good for me.
We continued down the street to the small restaurant on the corner. I could not help noticing that even on the other side of the street, there was also a bookstore.
No, not books. They are my forbidden fruit; I cannot risk going there.
We entered the restaurant, and soon we were approached by a waitress; "Table for how many?" She asked.
I looked behind me to see if there was anyone else behind us, but the space was empty; which made me think of a cruel response to give to the poor girl who is just doing his job.
"Two people, please," Patrick said politely. I must confess that this Patrick was beginning to surprise me more and more.
I like it!
He directed us to a table away from the window (because I asked for it), and we ended up sitting at a table in the corner; where my mind couldn't take off.
I sat in the chair facing the wall, and Patrick sat down in front of me. In this way, I can only see him and the wall; it is as if I had kept my mind inside a box.
The waitress came toward us to leave the menus, and there was something in her that caught my eye.
Her hands were a little nervous; her pupils dilated she was trying to control her smile, and her voice when she said; "I'm coming to collect your order in a minute," made me have sure of two things. Either she was new here, or she felt attracted to Patrick because, at no moment, her eyes stray away from him and never even crossed mine.
Back off, bitch, this boy has been taken for me. I thought to myself, but there was no way she knew it, probably the girl thought I was just a friend to him. I don't, but I need to do something to make clear in her head that I'm not a friend to Patrick. I am so much more than that.
chapter nineteen
"What are you going to choose," Patrick asked me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Mm... I don't know what do you suggest?"
"Try the burger; I'm sure you'll like it."
"Okay," Patrick looked into the room, looking for the waitress to come and
collect our order. As the girl walked to our table, a kind of plan came up in my head for her to understand that Patrick is not available.
Since when have I been so jealous?
I'm not like that, or am I?
Fuck!
"So what are you going to choose?" She asked with the notepad in her hand.
She kept looking at him, and I was getting more and more irritated by her posture.
Patrick debited our order, two burgers, mine with extra sauce and two cokes with ice and lemon.
But still, I feel I had to do something, but on the other hand, I didn't want to do the typical jealous girlfriend scene, so;
"Hey babe, you know what we could do today?" Patrick looked at me with eyes wide diverting attention from the waitress, while she also looked away to me and finally fixed in my presence.
Patrick didn't answer me, but that didn't stop me from moving forward; "A threesome. You, me and your new friend," I say looking directly to her.
The waitress was extremely flushed and decomposed, so much that when she picked up the menus, her hands were shaking.
Patrick, on the other hand, let out a big laugh and I was eerily relieved that he had not been annoyed by my little joke.
When the waitress turned her back and walked away as fast as she could from the table, Patrick stepped forward.
"Can I ask you a question?"
What does he want to know? He knows pretty much everything about me, I mean, not everything, just a few things. But what could be wrong, right?
"Sure," I replied, swallowing hard, I wanted to disguise my nervousness. I'm terrible at these things of talking and answering the questions; usually, I am a quiet person. I like to analyze and study people who pass me by and let my words go out to paper than out of my mouth.
"What was it like being in rehab?"
Oh shit, fuck Patrick, why do you asked that I don't even know how I'm going to answer you. I was utterly taken by surprise with this question.
"Mm... It was like..." - Take it easy, Neva, breathe. Asked me my subconscious. - "Like my life was stagnant, you know like I didn't own it." My tears tried to break my eyes; I don't know why, but, it's still complicated to talk about this. People often say that as long as we cannot tell our story without crying, it is a sign that we are not yet healed, and my wound is too deep to close overnight.
"I'm sorry, Neva, I just wanted to..." Patrick's hand went around the table, eventually finding mine. "I didn't want you to get upset, sorry!" He reassured me in such a kind and gentle voice.
"It's okay, really, one day I will talk about this, but for now, I don't feel ready yet!"
I told him with a vast emptiness in my eyes, but then, to avoid any discomfort between the two; "You're completely crazy," I said to him with a half-smile.
"And why do you say that?" He asked me with curiosity in the eyes.
"Because you've been sleeping in your car in front of the rehab center for a whole month. Only the crazies who do this kind of
things." I told him, letting out a great laugh. I laughed so hard at what I said that my stomach started to ache.
"And what's so funny about that? I needed to see you, you know?" He told me in an entirely furious tone; his eyes matched to the sound of his voice.
Fuck, I was just trying to make a joke.
"Sorry, I was just trying to make a joke, that's all," I replied with a bitter regret in my voice.
"Yeah, but this is not a joke Clark, I was worried about you."
"I can see that." I say "Can I ask you a question?" I was afraid of the answer, but still, I felt confident enough to ask her what I wanted.
"Sure, anything." He said a little mad. But I need to change the subject and try to have a bit of fun.
"How do you have that—" I sighed, just thinking about that thing, gives me shivers all over my body; "Horrible book?"
"You're kidding me, right?" There's something in his gaze that I don't know what it is, but I think he must be hallucinating or something. Or is it that I am hallucinating?
"That book you wrote— Clark, you're not even aware of the brilliant work you've done, are you?"
What's he going to say? Brilliant work? The Beautiful Beast is nothing flashy. That's horrible; it's such amateurish work that it makes me want to vomit on top of that piece of shit!
"Brilliant? Shut up; you don't know what you're talking about." I said to him shaking my head, but before he could continue, "Where did you get him? Because that book was—"
"In Lewis's house, I know" He just answered for me, " I needed to know where you were, and one night when I was very drunk I went to his house, but he was not home, so I went through the back door and went into his house and tried to see if he had anything about where you could be. "
"And why do you think he would have this information? Or rather, why did you believe he knew where I was?" His gaze hit mine, but from him, I could only see a blank expression on his face.
"I don't know, but he might have known, but while I was rummaging through his office, I saw your manuscript, and I knew immediately that I had to bring him with me..." The line of his lips was taut, tight even, what could he be hiding from me; Neva Clark in another episode of conspiracy theories.
"And why did you bring it?" I insisted!
"Because Clark! I wanted to be closer to you, I had nothing to hold on to, I didn't have you with me, I had nothing of your own to feel close to you, or even close to me, I didn't— Fuck Clark you're pushing the buttons here." He told me with a taut line on his lips.
Fuck, I was not even expecting him to respond to me this way.
"Okay, okay," I told him completely surrendered to his words. I didn't want him to get upset, but I just wanted to know why he had one of my many manuscripts. I thought that by now they would have been turned to ashes.
Before we even spoke again, the waitress came with our food, placing the dishes carefully in front of us. I could not help but look at Patrick and give him a smile full of mockery at the joke I made with the poor girl. But this time, she didn't cross her eyes with Patrick's, and she looked at me with an in-depth, embarrassed look.
Great, now you're in your place, my scene as a jealous girlfriend turned out, and I could not be happier about it.
I have to get this sort of thing to at least show Patrick that I at least like him a little bit and that I do not get indifferent if someone flirts with him.
I grabbed my burger with both my hands and bit into it. He was right; this hamburger is delicious.
"Are you enjoying our dinner?" He asked me in a voice that melts any girl.
"Yes, thank you for bringing me here. I didn't know I was so hungry until I smell this incredible hamburger." I told him with a full smile cleaning the corners of my mouth, which were full of sauce, with a napkin.
"Better than that lunch with..." His eyes showed some anger at remembering my lunch with Kyle, but I'm here and now, Patrick, and this is where I want to be.
"Hey," I told him, putting my hand on his that was lying on the table. "I'm here with you, aren't I?"
I don't know how I did it, but my voice sounded so serene, so calm and full of a feeling I did not think I had for it.
Am I falling in love with him?
"Are you here now, and tomorrow? Are you going to stay with me? And next week or next year?" His voice was with tons and tons of desperation for the uncertainty of our future together, what am I going to do if things between us do not work out? How will he feel if I ever wake up and think about leaving him because maybe he was not quite what I wanted for my life? This is so complicated.
"I'll always stay with you," I assured him. "I need you by my side," I promised. But I felt well inside of me that my words hid certain insecurity and falsehood from behind. My words were not as transparent as they used to be.
"Really? Are you sure?" He asked me.
"Of course I have Patrick," I said, putting my hand over his.
We continued our meal and were talking abo
ut the various things that happened while I was in rehab. For me, talking about how long I've been there is still painful, and I don't feel prepared to talk about it. He also told me that our old spot, a rusty old train station, had been partially demolished and what was left of the main building was to be restored and turned into a hotel.
chapter twenty
We left the restaurant, and again, Patrick interlaced his fingers in mine. It all seemed so right, so rooted to me that I could not even believe it was real, that it was happening to me.
The way home was quiet, and luckily, my mind didn't take off, and I was able to stay well on the ground.
My mind can take me to the limit of me, and I still have not figured out how I can control it. That is why I write without stopping because I want to get out everything inside me because I want to get rid of everything that my mind creates and leave these immense worlds on paper so that I can have peace. So I can get some sleep, so I can enjoy my days, and the few good things that happen to me once in a while. That's why I drink, that's why I smoke weed, and that's why I like fucking. Because these three things allow me to turn off my brain entirely, and I get a glimpse of peace, I feel more myself, more connected to what is happening around me. For me, writing is like having an abusive boyfriend, who wants to control all aspects of your life, wants to control what do you think, what do you write, what do you feel, what you want to do next.
And my obsessive writing manages all the fibers of my body, and I hate it. I hate having no control over myself. But on second thought, this voice that I have inside me was always here with me. Even when I was still six or seven, I would listen to her every day all the time; she begged to leave my head. But I couldn't let that happen because I didn't want to be that strange girl who talks alone, who stay away from everybody, who don't even try to make friends. I don't even know how Marcus and I are friends, but I think it happened because it's so easy to talk to him. He does not judge people; he accepts them as they are, and that's why I let him into my life.
Without even having noticed, we were already at the entrance of our house. How strange; our house, I thought with a silly smile on my lips.