by R. J. Lewis
“I’ll save you from the microwave,” he teased. He wouldn’t think he was a such a hero if he knew what I went through. “Come lay with me.”
When the popcorn finished, I poured it in a bowl and joined him on the couch. He wrapped an arm around me and pressed me to his side. I shut my eyes momentarily, pretending for a moment it was a larger, more solid frame.
Then I banished that thought entirely.
I wasn’t going to move on if I kept revisiting the past.
As the starting credits rolled, I asked Brian, “How was your day?”
“Doing investigative training now,” he answered. “Not long before graduation.”
“You excited to be a police officer?”
“I am,” he said proudly. “I don’t think you’ll be able to resist me in uniform. Maybe that’ll make you crumble.”
I laughed lightly. “Maybe.”
Maaaaaaybe.
Maaaaaaaaaaaybe.
Maybe as in I definitely did not think so.
We hadn’t done more than heated kissing sessions – the heated part was more from his end. Brian had tried to finger me recently, but my thighs pressed shut before his hand got there, deterring his further advances. He respectfully held off and let me go at my own pace.
I should have felt grateful he knew when to stop.
That he didn’t push or take.
We may have known each other for six months, but it’d been three months of dating and things weren’t heating up at a normal pace. According to Kimberly, I needed to just let it happen, but I couldn’t seem to tell my body to do that.
My body was broken, I knew.
It was broken because nothing made it burn.
Unless…
Unless I thought of a man’s hard hands prying my legs wide, chuckling at my resistance, telling me I’d be screaming his name as I came.
And Brian…
Well, Brian wasn’t going to be doing that any time soon.
I thought of Nixon’s words the night that man raised the gun at me. When he circled the bed – when he pounced on me after – gritting those ugly words into my ear when I told him I’d find a man of law to take care of me.
“Do you think he’d play along? You think you could ever tell him you have a thing for dubious consent? You think these men of law will take your no’s and still fuck you like I do?”
No, I wanted to say again.
No one would fuck me like he did.
He knew me on a deeper level, beyond physical.
I’d never find that again.
Midway through the movie, when the aliens were checking places out and Dakota Fanning was screaming in some looney guy’s hidey hole, Brian started to kiss along my neck. Wet, popcorny kisses that I shrugged away from.
“I’m tired,” I told him, feigning a yawn.
“I can think of ways to wake you up,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to mine.
Tonight, I just wasn’t feeling it. I withdrew and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Brian, I’m just feeling funky right now.”
He made a sad face before nodding and pulling away. “Alright, I’ll give you space, baby.” He tensed, realizing his mistake. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.”
I was too numb at the moment to care. “No worries.”
We stopped the movie and he left, respecting my space, being a nice guy and nice guys were so hard to come by, weren’t they?
I paced my apartment, tidied it up, did the dishes and had a quick shower. Under the hot spray, I pleasured myself thinking of Nixon.
I never got to orgasm. The tears always beat me to it.
Stepping out, I dressed in a pair of loose pants and a baggy shirt and peered out the window at the falling snow, wishing for things that would never come true.
I ended up falling into bed, staring up at the dark ceiling for most of the night.
When was I going to be okay? I asked myself. When was I going to wake up and get used to him being gone?
I had dreams of him all the time.
Dreams of him coming into the night, resting at my side, holding me, kissing me, telling me I was going to be okay.
Then I’d wake up – I swear to God I could smell the scent of him in the air – and find the space beside me untouched.
Those were hard dreams to recover from.
45.
Victoria…
There was a bird harassing another bird outside the coffee shop window. He wouldn’t leave this fucking bird alone, even when his advances were so obviously being rejected.
The most persistent fucking bird in the world.
I took like seventy-five pictures of it on my Nikon.
“Why aren’t you a photographer?” Kim suddenly said, sliding into the chair across from me. She took her winter jacket off, smiling at me.
“Not interested in being a photographer,” I told her, setting the camera down. “I do it for fun.”
“Must be annoying lugging that giant fucker around, though.”
The camera was bulky, for sure. “I’m used to it.”
“Why don’t you just be normal and get a phone that takes pictures?”
I laughed. “I’m not keen on joining the cyber world any time soon.”
Kim looked over her shoulder and hollered. “I want the usual, Derek! And add some cinnamon this time. Did you get that? I want some cinnamon in my latte, Derek!” Before turning back to me, replying, “You think if you get a phone with all the bells and whistles, you’ll wind up back in the online world?”
“It might tempt me.”
“Then maybe that’s the world telling you to come back to the dark side.”
“Maybe.”
She ran her hands up and down her arms, shivering. “It’s cold out there. I think there’s going to be a blizzard. Hope you’re not in a skirt this time.”
I smiled weakly. “Definitely not.”
She eyed me peculiarly. “You know, I wish you’d tell me what happened to you. You just disappeared off the face of the earth.
I avoided her eye. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“At some point, you might have to. You’ve been walking around with this baggage on your shoulders for like two years now. Ever think you might feel better if you talked to someone about it.”
“I can’t,” I simply said.
When Hobbs had returned me to the city, he gave me an envelope of cash, had asked me, “Are you sure you want to do this?” before I got out of the car.
I’d looked at him and said I was. I had no place in his world now. Nixon was gone and I was free. It was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it?
Hobbs told me he’d never see me again from that point on. “This money should see you through a long time. Don’t talk about your abduction. Don’t tell anyone what happened to you these last couple years. You don’t know the kind of attention you’d get, and the last thing I want on my conscience is your death. You left because the pressure got too much. You unplugged and ran, and you didn’t want to be found. You took a holiday, you hear? You travelled the country, joined a hippy caravan, whatever the fuck it is people your age do, I don’t care. But make it believable.”
I told him I would. I promised I’d be fine, and he frowned at me like it was hard for him to watch me go.
“You had a place in my heart from the very beginning, dear one,” he told me. “I wanted you dead for only a fleeting moment, but now I’ll do anything to keep you alive and healthy. You’re one of a kind, with thick skin and a damn strong spirit to have put up with Nixon and his bullshit. You saved him, you know that? You really did. You sparked life into him.” He’d paused, leaning toward me. “Speaking of life, you believe in God? Are you a spiritual girl?” I told him I didn’t know. “Well, I might hit up some churches, pray to Jesus or some shit. Maybe he’ll help me grieve, help me let you go. Only Lazarus will bring us back together again.”
I didn’t get what he was babbling about, but he was drunk off his ass
, recovering from Nixon’s death and trying his damned hardest to tell me good-bye.
When I stepped out of the car, that was the last time I saw him.
It was two years of nothingness.
The despair of losing Hobbs and the crew was surprisingly rough. I felt like I lost a family.
“Earth to Victoria,” Kim sang.
I blinked out of my thoughts. “Sorry, what?”
“I said did you get around to banging Brian yet?”
“Not yet.”
“You getting any closer?”
“No.”
She looked sympathetic. “He’s a hot guy, I don’t get it.”
“Me neither.”
“He’s going to be a cop.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Cops are hot.”
I nodded numbly. “Yeah, they are.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You know, sometimes I think a man ruined you or something.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked, curiously.
“Because you get a faraway look in your eye. Your cheeks go all red and flushed, and then you look like you’re about to cry. I know a look of heartbreak when I see one. I’ve lived through like a hundred.”
I gave her a dry laugh. “I don’t think you’ve gone through one like mine.”
She raised a challenging brow. “You want to bet?”
“Not really.”
“What did he do to make it different than any other jerk out there?”
“He kidnapped me.” I deadpanned.
She stilled, staring at me bug-eyed, and then she laughed because it was so fucking hysterical to even consider that possible. “Can you imagine being kidnapped?”
“I can.”
“Did he bind you?” she asked, playfully.
“No, he released the binds, actually.”
“Where did he take you?”
“Oh, you know,” I murmured, taking a casual sip of my coffee. “He had his own island.”
She laughed again, growing redder. “Of course, he did. I believe you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” When her laughter faded, she gave me a playful kick. “I like seeing you joke around. Makes me feel like you’re getting back into the swing of things.”
“Only took me two years.”
“Yeah, well, you were under so much pressure before, especially living with John the cunt head. You been talking to your aunt at all?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “Not at all.”
“Going back to school?”
“Not yet.”
“What about those student loans? Are they taking chunks out of your paycheck yet?”
I hadn’t told her they’d been paid off while I’d been on the island. Another loose end that Nixon had made sure to tie off. He’d gone through every bit of my life after we’d left the cabin. Had made sure I wasn’t on anyone’s radar. “Yeah,” I lied. “It’s painful, isn’t it?”
“Tell me about it.”
I redirected the conversation so it was about her. She told me about working as a nurse at the hospital, then she went on about her wedding plans. I tried to listen as much as possible, but my mind was always straying.
When it went quiet, she said she had to go and we said our good-byes. I lingered longer in the coffee shop, staring out the window at the falling snow. I had to press a finger on my wrist to remember my heart was still beating. Sometimes I didn’t feel it at all.
Remembering the birds, I turned on my camera and went through the pictures, smiling softly at the chase between two creatures.
I remembered the rush.
Remembered the feeling of being wrapped around the arms of a possessive man, determined to make me his.
I sniffed back the emotion pooling behind my eyes as I scrolled through more photos. Pictures of the snow fall, of footprints in the snow, of snow angels and Christmas lights and…
I paused, catching a black duffle bag in the corner of one of my shots.
I zoomed in on the picture, focusing on the figure holding it. Strong hands, black jacket, a tall and broad man standing sideways beside a bus stop, a beanie over his head. No face shown. I tapped the screen idly, sighing miserably.
I was seeing him in my pictures now?
Was this how far my inability to move on extended?
Swallowing hard, I turned the camera off and packed it away into the bag. Then I slid out of my seat and left some change in the tip jar before waving good-bye to the baristas.
Stepping out of the coffee shop, I stood on the corner in front of the doors and watched the people bustling all around me. I felt a little lost, unsure of what direction to take.
There was a hole in my heart.
I felt the tears fall.
This was like my dream, wasn’t it?
Nixon was gone – I felt his absence – and I was here, alone, facing the world I’d spent so long believing I belonged in.
But this wasn’t my world anymore, was it?
I’d been forced to leave it behind. It was never going to be the way it was, and I understood why.
The world hasn’t changed. You did.
And I would never move on. Not ever. Two years and I hadn’t felt a flutter of hope that I would ever mend.
Maybe a broken heart never healed. Maybe you just learned to live with the cracks. They felt like scars, didn’t they? And every time your heart thumped, you could feel the scar tissue, the cracks in the heart that didn’t close, raised and inflamed.
*
Brian was at my apartment door waiting for me when I got back. Leaning beside him against the wall was a long box. I unzipped my jacket as I got to him, smiling. “What do you have there?”
He looked down at the box and spun it around so I could see the picture on the front.
A Christmas tree.
I laughed lightly, surprised. My heart warmed. “You got me a Christmas tree? I don’t know what to say.”
He shook his head. “No, this was here already.”
My brow furrowed. “What?”
“Maybe it’s from Kim.”
“Definitely not.”
On the side of the box was my apartment number written in permanent marker along with my name. It was definitely for me. I opened the front door and Brian brought it in. I passed him a pair of scissors and he tore it open, pulling out the pieces. He put it together in the living room in less than ten minutes. It was a full traditional six-foot tree with pretty lights.
My heart bloomed at the sight of it. I had to blink back tears because it reminded me of the tree Nixon had put up for us in our hotel apartment.
“Expensive tree,” Brian muttered, stepping back to look at it. I didn’t let him see the tears as I approached the tree and unbent the branches. “Who do you think it’s from?”
“I’m not sure.” I shrugged, but I had a feeling I knew.
Hobbs.
The guy always had a soft spot for me. I was sure Nixon had told him about my love for the holidays. Maybe this was his way of telling me he was still around.
God, I hoped he was.
“Are we still not doing presents this year?” Brian then asked, giving me a pouty look. “It’d be a shame not to have presents under a full tree, don’t you think?”
I pondered that over. “Thing is…it can’t be expensive.”
“Okay.”
I aimed a stern finger at him. “As in…less than thirty bucks tops, Brian.”
He moved to me, smiling brightly. Dropping his face down to mine, he gave me a tender kiss. “Less than thirty bucks, I promise.”
Excitement I hadn’t felt in so long burst through me. I kissed him again, this time harder, and he wrapped his arms around my waist. “Wow,” he whispered as he pulled away. “You’ve never kissed me like that before, Victoria.”
I grinned, glancing at the tree before I pressed my head against his chest. “I’m just happy.”
I knew it was a fleetin
g sort of happiness, but I savoured every second of it.
46.
Victoria…
A few days before Christmas, I went out for dinner with Kim, her fiancé Peter, and Brian. We stood waiting in line at a fancy restaurant Peter had managed to nab seats at – a Christmas gift from his law firm, Kim had explained. We’d booked ahead of time, but the place was so packed, and our table hadn’t cleared yet.
As usual with my poor taste in clothing, I wore a black skirt and soft white sweater. I coupled that with heeled boots and a warm black winter jacket. When Brian and I met Kim and Peter out front, Kim gave my bare legs a longer look than necessary before muttering, “You sure you’re not gonna freeze in that? I remember the last time you wore a skirt in this weather, there was a blizzard that made it into the records.”
“Which blizzard was this?” chuckled Brian, his arm wrapped securely around me.
“It was years ago,” I said vaguely.
“It was coincidentally the time she disappeared off the face of the earth,” Kim intervened, giving Brian a look of warning. “Be careful, dude. It might happen again.”
Brian’s eyes widened. “You disappeared, Victoria?”
“She vanished for two years.”
My smile felt forced. “Let’s not talk about that again, Kim,” I said sternly.
“And that’s all you’ll get from her when you pry the teensiest bit,” Kim told him, shooting me a playful wink.
Brian gave me a curious look, but I ignored it as we entered the restaurant and stood in the waiting room. I felt a little annoyed at Kim and her incessant need to bring that shit up every fucking time we hung out lately. It was like her practiced patience had run out and she couldn’t handle not knowing.
The hostess finally called us up and we were led out of the waiting room and into the bottom floor dining area of the restaurant. As we walked, I looked around, my breath stolen from my lungs at how luxurious this place was. It was two floors, and the staircase that led up to the second floor sparkled under the chandelier lights. I looked up, noticing how opulent it was up there. Not that the ground floor was disappointing or anything, but there was a clear barrier between two worlds: the bottom being the normal folk, the top being the rich as fuck ones. Even the chuckles that drifted down to us sounded elegant as fuck.