by Kris Buendía
“Why?“ He strikes back with a rough voice without looking away “Am I making you nervous?”
“Please” I roll my eyes “Nervous? You? Not at all, it's just that I don't like being watch too much.”
“It is inevitable” He looks me dead in the eye “The problem is that I can't stop looking at you when I have you this close.”
The needle falls to the floor and he smiles, like he has just accomplish what he had in mind.
“You are an idiot” I tell him while I go and look for another needle giving my back to him. I feel my face warm and I'm sure that I'm blushing.
“I had to make you feel a bit comfortable, I am trusting you with my life.”
I laugh.
“It`s just your hand, you are going to be fine, don't exaggerate.”
I go back to where he is, ready with the anesthesia in my hand. The only thing he is looking at are my eyes. I pinch him with the needle near the wound. I look at him and I don't see any signs that it was painful for him.
“Now I will start stitching you up.”
“Do your work, Dr. Miller.”
That takes me by surprise.
“How do you know my name?” I stand back a bit shocked “I mean, my former name, in a little bit it won't be anymore…I mean…never mind.”
He looks at me strangely, like I'm delusional.
“It says so on your coat” He looks at my shoulder and I remember that my name is embroidered in my coat.
Shit.
“Ok, I'm going to start.”
Duncan doesn't even flinch, he just keeps looking at me. I will have to start getting used to it, because in this man that I still don't know much, stubbornness seems to be one of his biggest defects.
I start stitching him up and the wound starts to close little by little, a few seconds later I do the knot and cut the stitch with the scissors. I go back and clean the wound and then I bandage it.
Duncan seems to be fine, even though I think I saw him sigh at some point, or it might be my imagination, the man is more like a robot than a robot. What do I know, I don't know any.
“Done” I take off my gloves and Duncan stands up, he looks at me without saying a word and I blush again like an idiot.
“If you are not Dr. Miller, Who are you?”
The question is too personal for my taste, but I will answer anyways. It's not like I'm an ex-convict for my name to not be known anyway.
“Dr. Taynor” I stretch out my hand and Duncan takes it, he presses on it a bit and brings me to him.
Too close, Danger!
“Dr. Taynor, I can't say that it has been a pleasure under the circumstances, but I`m glad to know that my neighbor is not crazy at least.
“Excuse me? “ I get offended “I still don't know what you do for a living and I must remind you that we slept together and I don't even know you.”
Shit. I shouldn't have said that part about sleeping. It sounded so weird. Now he is going to think that I am really crazy. Duncan is still looking at me with that serious face.
“Maybe one day I`ll tell you” He takes his jacket and opens the curtains “And the thing about sleeping we can discuss it later.”
I want to scream at him that he is mad, abusive and an idiot. But the only thing I do is contain myself and I start laughing like a mad woman.
“Swindler” I mumble to myself.
No way can someone like him be with someone like me. Maybe, but I'm not that kind of woman, I repeat, I don't make a move for a one night stand as he might do.
Anyways, his presence in some way pisses me off and also” even though I hate him” makes me smile.
…
I'm exhausted.
I open my car and get in. The letter that Gabe left for me is still intact in the seat next to me. I think about reading it, tearing it up and not knowing anything about him. What might that letter say?
I`m sorry?
Please give me a second chance?
I didn't mean to?
Those are three things that Gabe Miller doesn't know at all. He is not a man that gives second chances, he is the black wolf of business, and that means he is evil and I always knew that, even though I stayed by his side, in the end he was a good husband and lover.
I take a deep breath and I pick up the letter, a letter can't hurt me. It's paper and ink, I decide to open it.
Dear Lana:
I have decided to give you your car back. I know how much it means to you, even though I have to admit, it is too old and old fashioned for a lady like you. I admit it, you are a lady, a woman, but you are also a manipulative bitch.
What did you think? That I was going to feel sorry for you because you left the house with nothing? The house we shared for three years. Even though it feels empty without you, I can finally have the peace that I didn't have all the time we were married.
The sound that you make when you are asleep is far from snoring.
Your inappropriate laughter for a lady.
The way you dress when I'm not there.
Your way of speaking without filter that, I admit, the first time I met you I liked, but then it became something I couldn't tolerate anymore.
The weird way you bight your lips when you are focused on something.
The list goes on and on, and I think what kept me next to you all these years was how good it felt to go into bed with you and make love to you. You are beautiful, I must admit it. But I grew tired of that as well.
I hope that your stay outside our house may be enough for somebody like you, I know you will be ok, and that you have some money that you can use to survive for a long time. I just hope that when it runs out you don't come back for more, because from the moment you stepped out on me, you signed your contempt sentence.
Love, Gabe.
P.D: In the trunk there is some stuff you forgot to take with you.
I crush the letter in my hand as soon as the first tear comes and stains the ink.
Who the hell writes something like this?
Tired? Ashamed? Peace?
I can't believe the words I just read. That is not the same person I fell in love with and married. He is a monster. It wasn't enough that he cheated and used me, now he needs to humiliate me with this letter.
I shouldn't be impressed. He never loved me, so it's not a surprise that he hated everything I did. And the worst thing of all is that I have to remember him in bed. It was the last thing that happened between us.
I start the car and go straight home. As soon as I get there, like an idiot, after parking, I go and open the trunk. There is a huge suitcase that looks to be full of stuff. If there is a bomb in there I don`t care. After being humiliated like that nothing matters. I take the suitcase out and drag it into the entrance.
“Do you need help, Miss? “ The doorman asks me, whose name I don't know.
“No thank you.”
The sound of the elevator lets me know that it's here. I drag the suitcase in with me, even though it looks like it's the other way around. I feel like this is how much my memories weight, just like the suitcase. I arrive at my floor and I start looking for my keys in my bag. I open the door and I don't even close it behind me. I sit down in the cold floor of the living room and I place the suitcase in front of me.
Do I open it or not?
What a fucking dilemma do I have tonight I stand up and go straight to the stereo.
Sia.
As soon as the song starts so does my little heart, and it hurts.
Tough girl in the fast lane
No time for love, no time for hate
No drama, no time for games
Tough girl whose soul aches
I'm at home, on my own
Check my phone, nothing, though
Act busy, order in
Pay TV, its agony
I may cry ruining' my makeup
And I don't care if I don’t look pretty
Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking
And that is what I do. Cry, even though my heart is breaking. I can't cry anymore.
A shadow walks through the hallway and my eyes stare at nothing. The sound of my stomach reminds me that I have to feed myself. So the suitcase can wait.
I stand up and with the music still on, I go to the kitchen and start moving pans. I think I`m going to cook some pasta. I deserve it.
A girl with a broken heart deserves some pasta.
A lot of pasta.
“It looks like you have never lived in an apartment building before, you need to close your doors.”
That husky and manly voice startles me and the pan that was in my hand falls to the floor.
“Fuck! “ I scream” Mother fucking shit!
“Those are a lot of curse words in just one sentence.
Relaxed, sitting in my kitchen isle is Duncan, alias “I have no fucking clue”.
I'm so scared right now that I forgot to nickname him now.
“How long have you been there? “ I grab the pan from the floor and put it in the stove.
“Enough to see what a strange woman you are.”
“Strange? “ I shrink a little bit “I have been called worse, called and written too. I really don't know which one hurts more, what do you think?”
He must think I'm really weird by the way he is looking at me.
“I`m sorry” His apology takes me by surprise” I better go.
As he is getting up, I curse to myself for what I'm about to do.
“Do you like Pasta? “ As soon as he hears the question he stops in his tracks “ As you can see, as a punishment for scaring you’re not so crazy and weird neighbor you have to stay for dinner. With that hand of yours I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight thinking how completely useless you are. “
I find my own comment funny and I see that I've succeeded when I see him sit down again.
“I see your point” He smiles at me a little, always maintaining that seriousness that intimidates, even though he is trying to smile “But if you pass out again I will not be able to keep my hands to myself.”
I stare at him wondering.
“I don't think that pasta and a glass of water may do that, and you better keep your hands to yourself, Dr. Casanova.”
He raises his hands in rendition and says nothing. I see him getting up and going to the stereo and change the music. Always Sia, she is my favorite. It looks like he doesn't agree.
“You should really listen to some other music” he recommends.
“Surprise me” I dare him.
He keeps pressing buttons, until there is no more Sia.
A sad melody starts playing, but at the same time it is soothing and it makes me relax and keep on cooking.
Piano and a man's voice.
“It’s called Vancouver Sleep Clinic” He answers my not asked question” The best group you`ll ever hear.
And I agree. I already love it. And even more now that I see the expression in his face when he starts humming the song.
Shit.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
The pasta is served, and I'm surprised when I see that he arranged the table for us to eat, without me telling him to do so.
“I`ll be right back” He says to me.
I hear my door closing and then the one next door opening, for it to be slammed a second later. I look at my door and see Duncan come in with a bottle of wine in his hands.
“You can drink a glass of water if you like, but I know you know that pasta tastes better with a glass of wine.”
“In that case, bring it here.”
His plate and mine are served as Duncan starts pouring the wine. Anyone might think that we were on a date or romantic diner, but this is far from it.
“You must stop slamming your door shut, you will scare the neighbors, including me.
“The door gets stuck sometimes” he says” They have fixed it, but I think that the wood keeps swelling too fast. I just feel safer slamming it.
“That is one strange explanation, Duncan.”
“I know, but it's the only one I can think of right now.”
He moves in his seat and I in mine, I take my fork in my hand and I look at him.
“I haven't poisoned it” I tell him teasingly.
He takes a bite to his mouth. Starts chewing and there must be something wrong with me because, the way he does it, I also find it attractive. I clear my head from those thoughts and I start to eat.
“Not bad” the idiot says “So, you are a doctor and you know how to cook, what else do I need to know about you?
“You don't need to know anything about me. What you see is what you get. Better yet, tell me, what do you do for a living?”
My question takes him off guard. But since we are in it, I better take the advantage to ask whatever I want. It is the law after sleeping with him.
“I`m an Architect.”
“Architect, that sounds interesting. Do you build houses and that kind of thing?”
“No” he cleans his mouth and takes a zip of wine, I do the same “I remodel buildings, I buy them and then sell them for double the price.”
Oh.
“But then, what are you doing living here? I mean, it is pretty luxurious and expensive, but your job must allow you to live in a mansion and, not to exaggerate or be rude but, why haven't you fixed your door?”
Ok, that was too much from me. I see that Duncan smiles a little bit and then continues to eat. I smile too and continue to eat what is left in my plate.
“I`ve had a problem since I was a teen, I really like to slam doors, I didn't even need to be mad to do it. My Mom used to get really pissed off because I even broke one or two.”
I laugh my ass off. That is the funniest thing I have ever heard.
“You must be joking. Then you must have spent a fortune in doors.”
“I gave up and stopped arguing with the doorman saying that the door didn't close well.”
I laugh again. And I thought I was the weird one. No wait, he thought I was.
I realize that Duncan is a lonely man. He had an unopened bottle of wine in his house and I doubt that he just bought it. He hurt himself in his office because he was eating fruit that gives me the impression that nobody cares for him. Also, accepting to have dinner with me shows it as well. Whatever it is, I think he is interesting and I want to know more.
Him and I are alike. I can feel it.
“Stop analyzing me” I can see the seriousness in his eyes. He realized just what I was doing.”
“I have nothing else to do.”
“You can ask me whatever you want” He says bravely.”
“Today in the hospital it was the total opposite.”
“Now we are in your apartment…alone.”
I almost choke when I heard the last thing.
Alone.
Very much alone.
“I don't know what to say” I move uncomfortably. The hunger is gone and the opposite looks like is happening to him since I can see his plate is crystal clean.
“Finish your food and I will do the asking.”
“That is not fair” I complaint.”
“Do you believe in fairness?“ He throws the question at me and my stomach hurts.
“I most certainly don`t.”
“Good, I don't either.”
His gaze is still there, following mine. I was only able to take one more bite. I am really nervous and afraid that my legs will tremble and I will look like a total spaz in front of him.
“Do you like what you do? “ I mean about his job.
“I can't complaint.”
“That is not an answer” I don't find his answer e
nough.
“Do you like it? “ He asks back.
“Yes, I`ve always wanted to be a surgeon.”
“What kind of surgeon?”
“Cardiothoracic.”
He finds my answer interesting and he nods his head.
“What do you like to do in your free time? “ I feel like a dumb teenager.
“I don't have any free time.”
I'm getting tired of his evasive answers.
“What do you like to do?”
“I think I don't have any free time either.”
“You had time when you were in the club the other day.” he says judgingly.
“In that case so did you” I counterattack.
“What did you want to do that night?”
“Have fun” until you came along” you?”
“Fuck you.”
I look straight in his eyes.
His answer is not serious, it`s direct, too direct for my taste, but he is honest, or he has a filtering issues like me.
“What do you want to do now?”
“Fuck you” he answers really fast. I feel myself getting blushed.
“Why do you want to do something like that?”
“Why not? You are beautiful, intelligent, weird, and funny and … you cook really well.”
“You like my cooking? “ I don't know what kind of compliment that is in order to get me to bed.
“I`m sure you do other things as well.”
My eyes go straight to the suitcase in the living room.
An unopened suitcase that doesn't let me believe something like that. No matter how idiotic he might be, I just feel that he is just here to mock me.
“Just so you know, your lack of filter is not going to intimidate me.”
“I don't care” He takes another zip of wine “You are heated, blushed and nervous and also disappointed, even though I know I`m not the one to blame for that last one. I never disappoint women.”
“In life? “ I mock.
“In bed.”
Shit.
Good answer.
I stand up and decide to end the conversation. Damn you Gabe and his letter. I completely hate him.