Free Falling

by Ana Simons

  “Why?” The word comes out as a sigh. Hesitantly, Olivia lifts one hand to stroke my stubble.

  And I’m gone. I pull her in and hold her in a tight embrace, one arm wrapped around her waist, one hand buried into her hair, into the back of her head, and whisper softly into her ear, “Because you make me nervous. So damn nervous.”

  She draws back and smiles, a sad smile, though. “I do?”

  “You’re so wrong, Olivia.”

  “I am?”

  “I don’t think commitment is a bad word. I’ve always wanted to take the plunge, with both feet even, but I just stopped believing that it would ever happen. Not to me.” A surge of agony rips through me as I totally let my guard down. “I guess I gave up—why would I want to get hurt over and over again? So it’s not fair you think I’m an arsehole that shies away from committing himself, who is only interested in jumping straight into the sack.”

  Her features harden and her mouth draws into a straight line. “And do you think it is fair for the women you’ve been screwing around with? Have fun and then hide them like some dirty little secret?”

  Everything is as silent as the grave for a while.

  “Maybe you think you do, but you don’t know anything about my life. What makes you think you can judge me?” Despite the stab of panic that hit my gut, my tone is flat and even.

  She steps back with a frown embedded on her features. “Why did you come here, Brian? Wait, I know the answer. Because you couldn’t score that night; what a harsh blow to your male ego, huh?” Her tone holds more than a hint of sarcasm. “Look, you’re wasting your time. I’m no one’s fuck buddy, hang-out-friend-with-perks or whatever you were counting on!” she says forcing her voice down, though I can tell her mind is screaming.

  I tug at her hand firmly and lock my eyes on hers. “Are we in bipolar mode again?”

  She scowls. “Go to hell!”

  Pushing her backwards, I cage her with my flattened hands against the wall. “I’m already there, sweetie! Now, look at me,” I tell her in a low harsh tone, however she keeps her eyes down. “Look at me, goddammit!”

  Eventually, she glances up at me, a blank stare that’s probably hiding how much hurt has already corroded her inside. There are hardly any cracks in her armour, I truly don’t know how to get in and tear her guard down.

  “You’re wrong again,” I tell her. “You’re not a failed hook-up—how can you even think that? I saw you again and my world began spinning out of control. And now I can’t get you off my mind and it’s scary as hell…” It’s like a hurricane sweeping everything in its way and I can’t do anything but watch the mess left behind. If she could only understand that.

  I inhale deeply, trying to form the words. “That’s the only truth. So that’s what I really came here for: to make a fool out of myself and let you know I miss you. And that I love you, always have.”

  She doesn’t react, I believe she’s letting my words sink in.

  Her face breaks into what seems a sardonic grin, though. “Ah-ah! You almost got me! You’re fooling me.”

  “I’m dead serious, Liv.”

  “What? Grown tired of swiping right on everyone on Tinder or wherever people go these days to get laid? Don’t tell me, you’re actually beginning to think it might be nice to have someone to talk to between all the meaningless headboard-rattling sex?” She rushes through her words as the tears break free, streaming down her face. “Don’t get me wrong, Brian, I’m not a cold, frigid bitch—I do think that sex is a whole lot of fun. It’s like a nice drink, a great foot rub and a good night’s sleep all wrapped up in one! But I’m not like the women you’re used to. So what were you even thinking? That you’d come here, snap your fingers and I’d let you treat me like homework?”

  Man, she’s stepping on my last nerve.

  I push her hard against the wall and bend down, my mouth hovering just above hers. “Yes, I’d gladly slam you on the table and do you. All. Fucking. Night. Long.”

  She tilts her head up slightly, I don’t even know how come our lips aren’t touching.

  “Yeah, and you would die a happier man if I screamed your name as I collapse on top of you, wouldn’t you? If you could bring me over the edge begging you for more? And then for some more?”

  Jesus, if the line between furious irony and this feeling she’s asking me to take her wasn’t so blurred, I’d be already all over her. But I’m walking on very thin ice here, and my problem is way more complex than that.

  “But have you even heard anything of what I said? I’ve just told you that I love you!”

  She scoffs and carries on, “So what? Those are nothing but words, empty words!”

  So what? And then they say men are the cold creatures who lack sensitivity...

  Her vacant look and apparent indifference knock me to the ground, and I decide it’s time to throw in the towel.

  “Sure, to you that means absolutely nothing. I should have known better by now,” I tell her in a small voice as I unlock her and step back.

  Fighting back the wave of disappointment, I quickly put my jacket back on and open the door.

  “What now?” she interrupts me. “I’ve hurt your feelings? Why would I believe you? Why would I trust you now? I trusted you before and see what happened? You broke that trust!”

  I let the door slam hard behind me.

  “I did what? So glad you bring that up! It’s just about time I stop wondering what the hell I’ve done to you! So, please, do enlighten me. Spit it out and let’s settle this once and for all.”

  22 Tearing scars

  “So how do you think that made me feel, huh?” she cries, her hands shaking, her voice failing her.

  Right now, I don’t have an answer, I’m still trying to make some sense out of this whole craziness, of the insane story I’ve been listening to these past five minutes. The moment of truth has finally arrived and I thought I was more than ready for it, but I’m not. Her words are burning in my core in a hundred unimaginable ways.

  “Brian? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  No, I’m not. What I’ve just heard is so absurd I don’t even have the words to describe what I think about it, what I’m feeling. That’s just too hurtful, I need five seconds to cool off and gather my thoughts.

  I get up from the sofa and head for the window, where I lean over the old and rusty balcony rail and look down at the sunny Verónica Square.

  There’s a bunch of British tourists sitting at the outdoor café, sipping beer and talking loudly in amusement, searching for something on a map. Ten to one, they’re looking for a way out of this goddamned labyrinth of narrow streets and crammed buildings.

  My eyes shift to the young couple, really young, probably as young as we were back then, seated on the stone steps next to the building of the former School of Arts and Crafts. They’re all wrapped up in love, one can see by the smiles on their faces, still so full of hopes and dreams. If they only knew...

  Olivia comes up behind me and rests her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown this in your face now, it’s just stupid. It’s been such a long time and you were a kid, and that’s what kids do, dumb things. Please, come inside and let us talk.”

  “No, Liv, what’s really stupid is the fact you didn’t even consider the possibility that I’d never do that to you,” I say without even looking at her.

  “Oh, come on, we should leave it at that. I’ve already had enough drama for one day and I’m over all that. Besides… I don’t want you to feel awkward, and I honestly don’t need any lame excuses either. It’s done, who cares now?”

  I finally turn around to face her. “Lame excuses? You’re joking, aren’t you? Let me see if I’ve got this right: some retarded moron I don’t even remember straight told you... no, wait! It’s even more insane than that!

  “Some crazy bint told you she’d heard some guy boasting that he was going to have his way with you? Because you were such a hot wild ride between-the-shee
ts? And he came to that conclusion because? Of course, I had bragged about it, what else? That’s what guys do: tout their own accomplishments to one-up their mates! Obviously!”

  Fury has filled my mind and a wave of sheer anger is rippling through me. No, something fiercer than anger, a feeling of absolute disappointment and rage and indignation all swirling around at the same time.

  “Why would I keep it to myself and not spill it all out, run my mouth about shagging some hot girl? I’m a narcissistic son of a bitch as it is, sure I wanted all the other guys to know about it and admire me! Why wouldn’t I play that card? It would surely raise me a few rungs higher on the cool guys’ ladder!”

  You’re losing it, you keep spitting the words out before you filter them. You might consider gathering your wits right now!

  “I really don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Brian.”

  Oh, sod it, I’ve got shit to say!

  “Of course you don’t, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” I blurt out with an extra dose of irony charging my tone. “Then this guy lets me know he wants to be the next in line to stick his tongue into your throat and screw your brains out and, obviously, I tell him to go for it! I don’t give a shit; why would I? I was leaving the next morning anyway and you were just a summer pastime! Like I cared, huh?”

  “Brian, stop.” There’s a pained expression on her face I refuse to acknowledge.

  She tries to hold my hand and calm me down, but I brush it away. Leaning in, I tell her with a deep harsh voice, “And all that crap made perfect sense in that crazy head of yours, correct?”

  “Please.”

  “Damn you, Olivia!”

  A long, uncomfortable pause falls between us.

  “For Christ’s sake, that’s not nearly strong enough of a reason to do what you did to me: writing a bloody text telling me it was over? Not having the decency of saying it looking at me, into my eyes? Or even worse, not giving me any chance to defend myself? I begged you to come and talk to me that night! I waited for you like an idiot on that beach. I waited way longer than you apparently deserved!”

  “Oh, my God…” She covers her mouth with her hand, shaking, the realisation she’s acted upon a lie hitting her hard.

  “Goddammit, I wasn’t just a boyfriend! I was much more than that, I had been your friend since... forever! You should have known me much better than that!”

  “I… I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry…” She sinks into the couch, on her face the expression of shock and surprise. “But put yourself in my place for a moment. What would you feel if–”

  “I’m trying, I’m trying really hard, but it’s difficult. Someone spouted some insane gibberish and you ended everything in a heartbeat! Jesus, you were never a two-month plummet, I was there for the long haul already, and I thought you knew that.

  “Loving you was just so easy: you were my friend, the one who knew me so damn well, who kept me grounded and balanced me out, my safe harbour, the calmest place in my life... The one I respected and trusted and would never, ever do anything to hurt.

  “I probably felt all those things because I was too young and immature, innocent too, I don’t know. All I know is that, even despite the distance, I never feared to lose you, there were no empty spaces or tiny cracks, we were in synch with one another... well, until that day—the day I learned that the person you love the most is also the one who can hurt you the worst. Yeah, I felt hurt, betrayed, and abandoned, if you want to know.”

  I’ve just realised now that I’ve been pacing this room like a madman, this is consuming me in a way that goes way beyond my control. I have always kept this anger to myself—typical, I know, men don’t like to share their feelings, we’d rather let them eat up our soul—but, finally, after years of ruminating about it, I’m getting it off my chest. If it is as liberating and cathartic as they say, I have my serious doubts: tearing the scars of these old wounds is hurting like hell.

  I finally bring myself to sit down and take a deep breath. Giving her a stern look, I ask, “Again, who’s this so-called best friend of yours who slipped you this nonsense?”

  She comes closer and holds my hands between hers. “Please, Brian. You’ve already made your point...”

  She’s fighting back the tears, but my bitter resentment and my raw-edged nerves have totally taken me over. I feel we’re getting to a point of no return, but I do need to go all the way down to the bottom of this. No loose ends, no more unanswered questions. This has to end today.

  “No, Olivia. We’re cleaning up the whole mess now.” I stand and her startled eyes follow mine.

  “Remember Laura?”

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “That girl who used to live down the street and sometimes hung out with us. The one who wanted to go to London, to the University of the Arts. She even asked you to check–”

  “The clingy, barking mad, pseudo artist posh chick who was already knocking on our door before breakfast? That one who was so bitchy that even your dog rolled his eyes?” I chuckle, a loud bitter chuckle of contempt. “That’s the Good Samaritan who came to your rescue, to warn you against me? Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

  “Why would she make that up? That makes no sense either. And why would you be so different from the other guys, who only had one thing on their minds?”

  “Oh boy, this just can’t get any better!” I let out another loud sarcastic chuckle, filled with nothing else but bitter resentment. “Sweetie, let me explain you two things. First: men are territorial beasts, they don’t like to share anything, much less a woman. Second: behind your back, that friend of yours was always all over me like a bad rash! Did I bonk her? No, I didn’t. Did that piss her off? Immensely.”

  There’s shock written all over her face. “No.”

  “So much for sisterhood, huh?”

  This woman is driving me insane, seriously. There’s this deep ache in my chest and I’m feeling more torn than ever. I need to leave immediately. That or my head will explode.

  “You know what’s the sad irony of all this?” I ask her as I walk towards the door. “In the end, your friend didn’t get what she wanted, but she managed to win anyway.”

  “Where are you going? Please, don’t go. There’s something else I need to tell you.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything else to be said. At least not today. Maybe some other time. In another ten years if it suits you.”

  She winces. “Hey, don’t you put all the blame on me. I went to see you, I tried to reach out to you and talk things over, but you didn’t care!”

  “What? Talking about when you showed up a year later wanting to chat away as if nothing had happened?”

  “Yes, that Christmas. I’m pretty certain you were at home but refused to come down to see me. And the following year too, I went there again, but your sister told me you were upstairs with some new girlfriend. I left immediately, but I’m sure she told you I’d been there. Now, did you call me back? Did you look for me? Did you answer to any of my texts? No, you didn’t! Didn’t I deserve an opportunity to be heard? For the sake of that long friendship you just mentioned? I probably did!”

  It’s all true, but I don’t care. I’m seething, filled with a mix of anger and frustration I can barely control. I just want to get the hell out of here and not have to look at her face anytime soon.

  I pace the entrance hall towards the lift with quick strides and push the call button, hard, way harder and more times than the necessary.

  Olivia runs after me and shouts, “But is it true?”

  “Yeah, sometimes I wish I was Nostradamus too, but I have no clue of what you’re talking about. Honestly, I can’t read your mind, you have to be more explicit. And quickly, the lift is coming” sometime this week. Oh boy, this old shit is moaning and shrieking and again taking an eternity to arrive and I’m about to go bonkers here.

  “You’re being such an arse!”

  “So shoot me!”

  “What you wrote on that card? Is it
true?”

  “What card?”

  “The flower card.”

  The sooner I accept the grim reality, the better. I need let go, if possible, with some dignity, or what’s left of it.

  “That was a mistake, Olivia. I apologise if I caused you any inconvenience.”

  Finally, the cranky old lift announces itself with a mechanical hydraulics screaming, and I pull the door open.

  “Goodbye, Olivia.”

  With my heart beating wildly, I tilt my head slightly and glance at her out of the corner of my eye. I think she’s crying. I swallow hard the taste of hurt, nearly choke on it, but resolutely step in, telling myself that I’m not going to look back ever again.

  23 Free falling

  F*ck Feelings. But isn’t this the greatest title in the history of self-help literature? No idea what they preach, but my sister was reading it the other day and right now the two words do make perfect sense together.

  I’ve got a pain in my chest the size of Siberia, and it’s consuming me in a way I didn’t think possible. I’m so stupid! Truly, what on earth was I thinking? Coming all the way down here for this? For someone I haven’t seen in ages, who’s certifiably crazy and who hates me with all her heart?

  This is an effing nightmare, I should just start slapping some sense into myself. That or hammer all these bloody buttons instead.

  Why aren’t you moving, you old piece of junk?

  I give another furious punch on the button board, but the damned thing responds with a little jerk as if it doesn’t want to go down either.

  I take a slow, deep breath while I run a tense hand through my hair. I’m about to break into despair.

  Okay, let’s try this again...

  “No, wait!” Olivia says loudly from the outside, just before she pulls the lift door open and jumps inside.

  Oh, good Lord, what now?

  “What are you doing here?” I ask harshly, fighting to keep my composure. “Seriously, I’m in no mood for your crazy talk!”

  “Don’t go. Please.”

  “What possible good reason is there for me to stay, Olivia? Want to make me feel even worse? Trust me, I feel bad enough already.”