One Week

by Roya Carmen

  “Sex only,” I repeat. “That means… that means no more joking around, no long conversations, and no more silly messages.” Each word I utter brings me closer to tears, and by the time I finish my sentence and take a breath, I’m crying.

  Eli’s face crumbles. It’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen. A heaviness fills me, and I fear I might be sick. I never imagined that hurting someone could feel this way. I’ve never hurt anyone before.

  “You mean… this is goodbye forever,” he says quietly. “We won’t keep in touch?”

  “John agreed to this only if I promised to say goodbye for good following our week together,” I explain. My heart sinks a little more with each and every word. “That means no messages, no emails, no video chats, complete blocking on all social media accounts.”

  He looks wrecked, in shock. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. I can’t believe it either. I can’t believe that I’m uttering these words. It seemed so simple a week ago, back when I wanted Eli so much, I wasn’t thinking straight. Before I gave him my heart, and he gave me his.

  He’s speechless. He closes his eyes and presses both his hands on the small table separating us. He draws a slow breath and opens his eyes again. His gaze is cold. He’s not the man I know. “You had no right,” he says. “You had no right to do this.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “You had no right to bring me into this, and not even tell me the truth,” he goes on. “Don’t you think I deserve the truth?”

  Before I have a chance to answer, he barrels on. “If I’d known the full consequences of this week, I would have never agreed. I would never have wanted to say goodbye to you, Gabriella.”

  “I know… it’s why I didn’t tell you,” I confess.

  He slaps a hand on the table. “Oh, I get it now,” he says. “You knew I’d say no if you told me the whole truth. You knew you wouldn’t get to come here, and have your little adventure. You knew you wouldn’t get to sleep in my bed and get fucked nice and good, sideways, and up on the wall. Well, I hope it was worth it. I hope I satisfied you, Gabriella.”

  “Eli, don’t—”

  “Now, you’re done slumming it, and you can go back to your fucking perfect little life, with your perfect husband, and perfect kids, your little house and your little picket fence, and you can tell all your besties what it was like to fuck the glass artist from Copenhagen, how hot, how fucking good.. Isn’t it great to be you!”

  His words slice. He’s split me in two. I’ve never seen this side of him. I didn’t even know he could be like this. I’m shell-shocked, unable to utter a single word.

  “How can you expect me to ever say goodbye to you? Do you realize how hard that’ll be for me? Do you even know what you mean to me? Did I even mean anything to you? Or was I just a fun lay? A midlife crisis?”

  He’s speaking so fast, barking all these things at me, I don’t have the time to put a single word together.

  “I thought you were better than this, Gabriella. You’re not who I thought you were. You’re a selfish and spoiled woman. I don’t even know what I ever saw in you.”

  It hurts so much, I feel like I might break, but he looks even more broken than I am. He gets up to stand, but then falls again. “I’ve only ever loved two women in my life. The first one broke my heart, but then the second one mended it, made me feel like I could put myself out there again, made me think that I could give myself to someone else again.”

  He gets up to leave, and grabs his jacket. “And then she destroyed me too. She was even crueler than the first.”

  He shrugs into his jacket, and adjusts his scarf. His movements are slow and deliberate, almost robotic. His stunning eyes are dark with anger. “We’re done,” he says. “I have no problem with this arrangement of yours. No problem at all. We’ve had our week, and now it’s over. No more contact. I’ll be blocking you from all my accounts tonight.”

  My eyes are wide. “But…”

  “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. You can spend your last night at my place… I know you have nowhere else to go.”

  He drops a few Euros on the table. “I’ll be spending the night at my studio with Floyd. You have enough money to get back to my place?”

  I nod, still speechless.

  “Good.” And with a quick wave of his hand, he says, “Have a nice life, Gabriella.”

  And then he’s out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I’M NUMB AT FIRST. I can’t move. I don’t cry. I just sit there, in the back of the little café, and stare at the wall. I’m still shell-shocked. I never expected him to react this way. I didn’t think he had it in him. He’s such a gentle soul. I never saw this coming.

  I slowly stand, and leave the café. The barista shoots me a pity look, and there’s curiosity in her expression. I wonder if she heard our fight.

  I wander aimlessly around the island, not sure where to go. The sights and people are a blur. All I can think about is Eli. I can’t believe we’re never going to speak to each other again.

  The world works in such cruel ways.

  I sit on a bench, my blue shopping bag on my lap. I pull out the vintage purse and the pins from the bag, and study them. This beautiful purse will remind me of this day forever. I decide to donate it to our local thrift store. I tuck everything back in the bag again.

  A man sits down next to me. He has a salt and pepper beard but looks pretty young, and he’s very fashionable. A petite blonde smiles at him as she inches closer. A little boy with big blue eyes holds her hand. “Come and sit on daddy,” she urges. “There’s not enough room on this bench for all of us.”

  The man kisses the boy’s forehead. They look happy, all of them. She gazes into her husband’s eyes and he just seems to light her up. I’m not sure I’ve ever had that with John, and not sure I ever will. But I know I love my children as much as this woman loves her son.

  The sun is setting when I can finally manage a coherent thought and think straight enough to get myself back to Eli’s. There are hundreds of faces around me but I don’t see them. I’m surrounded by noise, but I don’t hear anything.

  When I get back to his place, I drop my purse and shopping bag and let myself crumple to the floor. I lie on the floor and let the tears flow. I can still smell this morning’s breakfast, Floyd’s scent, and even Eli’s. It’s so cold here now — walls with colorful pictures, perfect furniture; a flawless space. It is not a home. It is certainly not mine. I feel like an intruder. Not so long ago, I felt like I belonged here.

  I trudge to the washroom to empty my bursting bladder. I wash up and let the warm water run over my hands, and study my reflection in the vanity mirror. My face is splotchy and my mascara is running. My eyes are red with pain. I look like hell. He’s called me beautiful so many times. I’m not beautiful.

  I’m ugly.

  Inside and out. And I don’t deserve him.

  My adventure is over. There’s nothing left to do but pack up my things. I’d wanted to go see Amalienborg — I’d heard it was stunning; tapestries and sculptures, gilded walls and ceilings, and marble floors. Eli and I had planned to go together. But I know that’s clearly not happening now.

  I peel my suitcase open, and dig into the chest of drawers. I meticulously fold and tuck each piece of clothing, and arrange my belongings perfectly. When I’m stressed or upset, I sometimes like to organize. It occupies and soothes my mind. My hand stills when I reach for the elephant painting — it’s so beautiful. I wrap it carefully in two sweaters and tuck it in between my clothing. I also put the Little Mermaid statue and the paperweight in my travel bag. I don’t want them to be broken or lost in baggage — they’re too precious.

  I check my phone, and my heart sinks when my worst fear is confirmed. He’s no longer on my Facebook friends list. Our long conversations have disappeared — all of it, messages, photos, everything. My chest caves in. I feel sick. I tap feverishly, only to find out that he’s unfollowed me on Instagr
am as well. And I’m sure that he’s blocked me on Gmail too.

  My chest aches, and my throat burns. I wonder if this feeling will ever go away. The pain is even worse than it was when I realized John had been unfaithful to me. How can that be?

  I know why this hurts so much. Because this time, I’m the one who hurt someone else, who betrayed someone who loved me and trusted me.

  The tears come in bursts. I cry. I breathe. I cry. I breathe. And soon enough, all my stuff is packed and ready to go. All my essentials for the flight tomorrow are in my oversized bag. My clothes hang on the arm of a chair by the dresser, and my jacket and boots are by the front door. I haven’t eaten anything since the ginger cookie, and although my stomach is begging, I can’t imagine eating a single crumb.

  I sit in the kitchen and nurse a cup of tea. I’m wearing the Doors t-shirt and some black cotton undies. I send a quick text to the kids, telling them that I’m excited to see them again soon. I know I’ll need to put on a brave face for them. Will they be able to see the pain in my eyes? Will they wonder why Mommy is sad?

  I can’t imagine never ever speaking to Eli again. It breaks me. How can we share so much, and then never speak again? We can’t end something this amazing like this… with such anger and contempt. Does he hate me? Does he want me to fight for him? If the roles were reversed, I’d want him to fight for me. I can’t leave him like this, thinking that I don’t love him.

  I just can’t.

  I jump to my feet and dash to Eli’s room. My heart is pounding out of my chest as I dig in my suitcase for my fuzzy zebra lounge pants. I put them on quickly, grab my purse, and slip into my jacket and boots.

  And I run.

  I run, and run. Thankfully, I remember exactly how to get to his studio. Darkness disorients me a little, but I let my instincts lead the way. I slow to a jog when I finally get there, breathless.

  My hand is shaking when I press on the electronic doorbell. I wait impatiently. No answer. I press it again. Still no answer. I try to peek in the window, but all I see is darkness. I hear the faint sound of barking. I do it again, and again. I’m not giving up. I know he’s in there, and I can do this all night. He’ll either answer, or he won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.

  Finally, he opens the door. His eyes are so easy to read — he’s an open book. He’s still peeved, but there’s a trace of happiness in there. I know it — he wants me to fight for us.

  “I can’t leave without saying goodbye, Eli.”

  He stands still and looms large over me. He’s still so angry.

  I hug myself. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”

  Without a word, he moves to the side, and lets me in. He closes the door quietly behind us. Floyd jumps up on me, happy to see me. My eyes are brimming with emotion. “I’m going to miss you, buddy.”

  “Down, Floyd,” Eli scoffs, apparently in no mood for emotional reunions.

  He brings him to his little cozy spot in the corner of the studio. He tells him to stay, and Floyd obeys — such a sweet dog.

  My breath quickens as I watch him head back in my direction. He stops a few feet from me. He’s more beautiful than ever, but I can tell he’s been crying. His eyes are red and tired and his hair is a mess, and all I want to do is kiss him.

  The thought of never kissing him again breaks me. I can’t bear it. “I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.

  He pulls his gaze from mine. “You hurt me, Gabriella.”

  “I know,” I tell him. “I was horrible to you. I didn’t think this through. I didn’t think about you. I was selfish.”

  “What was I?” he asks. “A distraction? Was I just there to help you forget about him? To help you forget about her?”

  “No,” I reply. It’s a small word… it barely means anything. I want to say so much more, but my heart pounds so hard, my heart hurts so much, I can barely think straight. I can’t seem to think at all. I need him to know how I feel, but how can I make him really understand what he means to me.

  “You were not just a distraction,” I tell him. “You were everything.”

  He lifts his eyes to mine, and I want to reach for him, but I know I’ll just scare him off, anger him further. “From the first moment I met you, I fell for you, Eli. I’ve wanted you so badly ever since. You’re all I think about, all I can see when I close my eyes at night.”

  I inch closer, tentatively. His eyes pull me in. “It was never about them. It was always about us.”

  He reaches for my hand and wraps his long fingers around mine. I close my eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  His eyes are locked on mine. He nods quietly.

  “I wanted you so badly, it hurt,” I tell him. “When I ended things with us, I was a wreck. The realization that we would never meet, never touch, never taste each other… it hurt so much. I was devastated when I realized that John was unfaithful, but a small part of me was excited… excited for us. This was our chance to finally be together.”

  He pulls me into his arms, and I bury myself in his chest and inhale him. “I’d do it again,” I confess. “This week was the most amazing time of my life. If it was the only way to be in your arms like this, I’d do it again. A million times.”

  “I can’t imagine what it will be like to never have the chance to touch you again,” he says. His words burn a slow flame. I desperately want to be with him one last time.

  I lift my gaze and venture a look up at him. “I didn’t want to end things badly… we deserve more than that.”

  His lips curve, just a hint of a smile. “You look like hell, by the way.”

  “You look beautiful,” I say.

  He cups my face in his hands, and draws my mouth to his. I melt into him. I disappear. He pushes his heavy weight into me and presses me against the wall. He tears my jacket off swiftly, and pulls down my zebra pants in one swift move. He’s not quite himself, but I love it.

  A part of him hates me. And a part of him loves me.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  HE’S ROUGH WHEN HE takes off my boots. He’s on his knees and I want him to look up at me — I want to see his beautiful face. I want to memorize every detail. He licks a trail up one of my legs, and I’m not sure I can take much more of this.

  I kneel and reach for the fly of his pants, wanting to taste him one last time. When I wrap my mouth around him, he groans softly — the sound drives me crazy.

  He pulls my hair and draws me to him again. His mouth is hot on mine. He claws at my t-shirt and pulls it over my head. My breasts are bare, my nipples hard. My hair is a wild untamed mess around us.

  “Fuck, you drive me wild,’ he breathes against my skin.

  I want to drive him wild. Just as wild as he makes me. I want us to drive each other crazy forever, even if we never touch again, never speak again. He’s a weight in my heart, lodged there until my dying days.

  I reach for his shirt and slide the thin fabric along his smooth skin. I lick the curves of his chest. He tastes so good — I was already starting to forget how delicious he is.

  One last time. I want to lick every last drop.

  He slides his mouth along my neck. “I need to grab a condom,” he whispers. “Don’t move.”

  I’m cold without him. I’m standing against the concrete wall in nothing but my cotton undies. I close my eyes, anticipating his return.

  I half expect him to take me savagely against the wall, but when he returns, he reaches for my hand.

  I follow him to the red sofa. It’s covered in a hodgepodge of colorful cozy throws, and a fluffy pillow.

  He leans back into it and pulls me in. I sit on him, and my mouth searches for his in the almost-darkness. We kiss softly, sweetly. “I love you,” I say so quietly, it’s barely a whisper.

  I hadn’t planned to tell him I loved him, but he deserves to know. If we never share anything again after this night, at least he’ll always know that I loved him.

  “I love you too,” he whispers, “but I think you knew that already.”
>
  This moment is bittersweet — it’s perfect, but it also hurts so much. “I’ll miss you,” I tell him.

  He kisses me again. His lips cling to mine, sweet and soft. “I’ll miss you too… so fucking much.”

  His sweet kiss turns salty as his tears hit our lips. I pull away. I don’t want to taste his pain. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know,” he says. His mouth reaches for mine again, and I savor him, every sweet drop of him.

  We make love one last time, bodies tangled in cozy throws, kisses stolen, and words unspoken. My chest aches with every touch, every breath, and every kiss because I know these are our last.

  I fall asleep in his arms, and I weep quietly as I drift away from him. The only flawed part of a perfect moment is its ending.

  It’s gloomy and rainy out, and it feels like the worst day of my life. I’m looking forward to seeing the kids and my friends again, and little Elsie too, but I don’t want to leave Eli.

  “You should try to grab something before the flight,” Eli says. “You should really eat something.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t touch my breakfast,” I say apologetically. “I can barely breathe, let alone eat.”

  I can’t look at him. Every time I do, it hurts. This goodbye feels like the most painful thing in the world. A person crashes into my life, almost as if he fell from the sky, like we were meant to meet, meant to be friends. He changed my life, made me feel alive again, and now I’m supposed to say goodbye forever, never speak a word to him again, completely lose touch? I will never know if he’s happy. I won’t know if he ever finds love and gets married, ever has kids. I won’t get to hear his story.

  I’ve cried too much already, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t shed another tear, well, not until I’ve said goodbye, at least.

  Following check-in, he walks me to security, and we both stop and stand quietly in front of each other. We study each other, one last time, and mark each other to memory; every detail, every quirk. I take in the way his rebel hair always sticks up a little, his tattered hippie bracelets against the soft dark hair on his wrists, his perfect lips and dark brows, his stylish black suede jacket, and most of all, those eyes that have owned me ever since that first time I saw him on the screen of my phone.