by R. J. Lewis
A.W.: Unless that’s your thing.
A.W.: I’m open minded.
While smiling at his dark humor, I don’t respond for many minutes. I really thought I’d never speak to him again. That he’d forgotten my last name and couldn’t look me up like I’d told him to. I was relieved initially, especially when Derek had been snooping around my stuff and watching me like a hawk. How would I explain myself if Aidan had contacted me? Derek would have known we shared some kind of… moment… in that plane, and he would have flown off the handle.
At the same time, I wasn’t going to jump into thinking I was hot shit. After some time, the best way to go forward was believing you were just a potential notch on a hot man’s bedpost.
Another chime.
A.W.: You know you want to (wiggles brows suggestively).
I don’t even know I’m doing it until it’s done. I think about how I could skip seeing Ana and see him instead, and it could be my little secret. Harmless conversation, right?
Wrong.
I swallow hard. I thought being alone with my thoughts couldn’t make me worse of a person, and now I’m thinking of skipping a hangout to see a guy. It’s like I’m some teenager sneaking out of my bedroom window and hoping my parents won’t find out.
No matter how shit things are between Derek and me, it’s not right doing this just yet. I can’t fall into another person while my life is a mess. It’s not appropriate. Aidan is a temptation I’m too weak to resist.
I have to do this the right way.
Ivy Montcalm: Sorry, Aidan. I want to, but I can’t. Maybe ask another girl for an “innocent” dinner. Surely there are a surplus of beauties around you.
A.W.: Afraid you’re the only foul-mouthed beauty I’ve had the pleasure of meeting who isn’t a money hungry barbie doll. That’s alright, beauty. Thought I’d give it a shot. Maybe some other time.
Ivy Montcalm: You know, you can always talk to me via here anytime you’d like. :-)
I wait for him to respond, but he never does, and I have a feeling I’ve disappointed him. I throw the rest of my sushi away and get back to work. I hate that I’m glum. I hate that I’m disappointed. And I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him all day long.
Seven
Ivy
“Just let it go,” I tell him, flipping through the pages of my math textbook. I’m so bored with life, I’m studying for my entrance exam even though I haven’t even scheduled it yet. It’s a little pathetic.
“I’m just saying,” Derek retorts, bending over to grit his words out in my ear, “I’m the one that works the hardest between us. I’m out there getting dirty every fucking day, Ivy. I don’t stand there and make people beautiful. I deserve a little more for a fucking allowance, don’t you think?”
I sigh and shut the textbook hard. I look evenly at him, and I don’t see that handsome man I fell for when we were teens. That blonde hair and those blue eyes used to make me go crazy with mad need.
Now they make me want to rage.
“Derek,” I say, trying my best not to lose my cool, “I’m on my feet all day too. We make pretty much the same income, so don’t give me that bullshit, alright? It was your idea to move into the city, and now we’re paying through our noses just to have this stamp size apartment. Because of that, we can’t afford all the luxuries of before. We’re already a week behind on rent. If you go out and piss away money on a night drinking, then we’ll be sure to miss another. So just use your head, alright?”
I don’t think he sees the same fiery babe I was years ago either. I think he’s just as disgusted by the sight of me too. Ever since our loss, things have gone downhill and we never recovered. It’s hard to comprehend that we’re shadows of the people we used to be, and every so often I feel the tinge of hope that we can mend this. But nights like these when I’m having to baby him into not going out to spend our entire miniscule fortune we’ve managed to save up, I’m reminded of why I’m not racing to tell him we can try again. We’re on completely different paths. He’s on the road of destruction, and I’m on the road of survival.
And while I love him, I know in my heart I’m not in love with him. I’ve been desperate to fix this, but no matter how many times I try and give this relationship work and time, the feelings just don’t return, not when I think of that girl he’s fucked while I was crying at our loss. No, he’s simply hurt me too much. It’s just telling my legs to walk that seems to be the issue.
I’m scared.
“Use your head?” he says, and that hint of anger surfaces in him. He narrows his eyes at me. “Always treating me like an idiot, huh? Like I’m dog shit. Why? Because you’re so much better than me studying and all that? What about the money you’re about to piss away on your College shit?”
“I have to pass the entry exam, and then I’ll be doing bridging courses, Derek, and they’re not at a College yet. I’m trying to get into a school –”
“But you say you’re headed there next year –”
“If I manage good enough grades, then yeah!”
“And how much are you going to spend on that?”
“Ugh!” I stand up and stalk off, but the place is so small there isn’t anywhere I can go that’s far enough from him. I’m especially pissed when he starts to follow. I can feel his presence and that heated anger rolling off of him, and my body is sucking it all in and starting up the furnace to my own anger.
“You wanna go out and get roaring drunk?” I yell at him, turning to face him. “Then go, Derek! Get drunk with your friends! You happy now?”
“No,” he retorts, crossing his arms defiantly. “You made this into a fucking argument. You want me to stay, so I’ll fucking stay.”
What the hell? I give him what he wants and he decides he doesn’t want it anymore?
“You’re unbelievable,” I huff.
“I’m unbelievable? Your purse strings are so fucking tight on me, but the second you want something you have no qualms getting it!”
“When was the last time I got something?” I challenge.
He scoffs, like what I’ve just said is preposterous. “You get yourself shit all the time.”
“Name one thing I got for myself, Derek.”
“You got those expensive looking sandals last week.”
“I had no choice. My sandals were three years old and broke –”
“You could have got them from Walmart. Instead, you got them from ALDO –”
“Ana used her store card on me! I got them fifty percent off, Derek.”
“Right, sure you did. How convenient.”
Oh, my God.
I’m ready to punch a hole in the wall on my way to the shower. It’s the only place I can actually have some space when we fight. The only time he actually allows me some privacy is when I’m locked inside the bathroom, shut inside the shower stall under the hot spray, contemplating ways to kill him.
On my way there my phone chimes indicating a Facebook message. My heart seizes in my chest when Derek picks up my phone from the table and swipes the screen. Is it Aidan messaging me? He hasn’t since that lunch break on Monday. But everyone else only texts me. So… it could be him.
Logic tells me it must.
Fuck, how do I explain that to Derek? Yet another fuse on the verge of blowing, and I’m tense and on the verge of throwing up if he discovers it.
"Leave my phone alone, Derek," I tell him icily. "That's mine."
But he ignores me and presses a few buttons. His brows come together in confusion before setting my phone back down.
“I’m going out,” he then growls out, grabbing at his keys.
“Where are you going?” I ask tensely.
He shoots me a glare. “I’m not up to no good, Ivy! I’m just going out and I don’t need to tell you every fucking destination I go to. It’s not illegal going out to do something for myself, is it? Fuck’s sake.”
I force my mouth shut. Don’t react. I tell myself. The old me from before I left woul
d have screamed insults at him, saying horrid things about what a dick he is and how he's just going to blow our money on more drinks. Then he’d get even shittier and face off with me, breaking something of mine or his out of anger. So, I feel like I’ve dodged a bullet when he takes off and slams the door shut behind him.
Once he’s gone and I feel like I can breathe again, I hurry to my phone and press my Facebook app. Derek isn’t technologically savvy enough to know the message will have come from there, and my heart pinches when I read it.
A.W.: I can’t believe you turned me down. I’ve never been turned down before.
I message him back straight away.
Ivy: I’m not sure whether that was just a wounding of your ego or if you’re genuinely upset by that.
When he doesn’t respond right away, I feel a little dumb. I must look desperate messaging him so quickly. Maybe I ought to wait ten minutes next time.
Feeling tense, I head into the shower and strip. My clothes are gross and sweaty, and I don’t smell any better naked. But despite the horrid heat, I can’t shower unless the water is scorching hot. I clean the grime of today off me, thinking hard about Aidan. Just a text and I’m instantly in a better mood. As I shave, another chime comes through. I dry one hand with the towel and reach over to the sink where my phone sits and swipe the screen.
A.W.: Both.
My cheeks heat. He was genuinely upset, and that means what? That he really cared to see me? I don’t like miscommunication, and I’m not the kind of girl to let things sit while I conjure up ten million different meanings. I’m very straightforward and that’s eliminated a lot of friends in my life. But I know Aidan won’t mind.
Ivy: You really want to see me that bad?
A.W.: Yeah, I really do.
Ivy: Why?
A.W.: Because I’ve been thinking about you every day for three weeks.
I shakily set the phone down and take a few deep breaths. Then I stand under the spray and think on his words for minutes on end. That sick feeling of panic twists at the pit of me, but I’m so intrigued by him. His words have turned me into mush.
I’m conflicted.
I hear another chime, but I can’t bring myself to see it. After a few more minutes another chime sounds too. I lean over the phone and turn it off. If I can’t hear it, it’s not really there. My fingers tingle to turn it back on, but I refrain and continue shaving.
I can’t deny the bubble of excitement I feel that he’s sought me out like this. It makes the fight with Derek dull into the background like it didn’t even exist. Am I just on a high? I breathe deeply and shake off the feeling that he feels like we’ve connected too. For all I know he reached out to seek a booty call.
As if. My brain scolds. This man is walking sex. He’s loaded, successful, and judging from his ego, he’s had a bevy of women in his bed.
After I shave, I stand under the water until it gets cold, thinking of him. I step out and get ready for a night buried in my books. Derek doesn’t come home for hours, and I fall asleep on the couch wondering if he’s fucking another girl.
I need to get out of here are my last thoughts.
*
When warm fingers entwine with mine, I open my eyes and stare into the darkness. I can smell Derek’s scent mixed with whiskey, and disappointment spreads through me. He’s kneeling beside the couch, his face inches from mine, and he looks sullen.
“Ivy?” whispers Derek. “Are you awake, darling?”
“Yeah,” I whisper back, bracing myself for another round of arguing.
He exhales slowly. “I’m a dick. I’m such a fucking dick, Ivy. You were right about everything. I shouldn’t have been picking a fight with you. I don’t know what came over me.”
Ah, he’s drunk and he’s apologizing. Those go hand in hand after a fight. I shrug. This is the norm, but it still makes my chest squeeze. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I love you. We’ve been… so distant lately. Distracted, you know? And I want us to work so much. I don’t want us to become strangers.”
I don’t know how to tell him we already are. So, I keep my mouth shut as he continues to tear my heart apart with the desperation in his voice. I hate when he’s vulnerable because it reminds me so much of who he used to be in the beginning.
“I hate the things I say. I hate how angry I feel. I hate how destructive we are, but I know we love each other too much to watch our relationship crumble. I think we need to focus on making this work, yeah? I know I said this already, but I’ll stop playing the video games, and I’ll quit drinking, and I’ll take you out. We’ll do shit around here. How does that sound?”
Like a robot, I answer, “Yeah, that sounds good.”
I’m dubious, of course, but that voice of his always tugs on my heart strings.
“I know I’ve hurt you,” he continues, his voice straining with pain. “And I’m so sorry for it. I was always drunk and acting out. It’s no excuse, I know that, but I promise you things will be different. I’ll never look at another girl again. You can take my word for it. It was a mistake, darling. A stupid, stupid mistake. We grieved differently, and my way was wrong. I’m so sorry. It’ll never happen again. I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you. I just want you to take me back and for things to be normal again. That’s all I want, Ivy.”
I want to believe him. I really do. But at this point, whether he’s telling me the truth or not, I don’t feel anything at all.
“I don’t want you to leave me.”
Does he sense that I want to flee again?
“Please don’t. Please tell me we’re still together. That you came here for me.”
I don’t respond to that.
Instead, I whisper, “Everything is different, Derek.”
“Don’t say that. It isn’t, darling.”
He wraps an arm around my waist and brings me closer to the edge of the couch, so I’m pressed against his front. I wish I could shake this dead feeling inside of me and be affected by his touch, but it doesn’t happen. As always, I feel empty. He’s holding a void and he doesn’t even know it. He holds me for a few minutes before his hand drifts down my front, getting lower and lower.
“Derek,” I say, just as he touches my core, “I can’t.”
I wish I had that desire for him, but it’s dead. I’m too hurt. I know the only way to go forward with him is to let go and “heal” like Mother says I should do. And I know not putting out is starting to get to him. But I just can’t. The idea of intimacy with Derek makes me want to coil myself up and shrink away. I won't skew the lines of our separation by letting him touch me.
He moves his hand back up and around my waist. I wait for him to get pissy and say something rude. Instead, he tells me, “It’s alright. I just wanted to connect with you again. I miss touching your body. You’re so pretty to me, Ivy.”
Pretty. Always that word. Never anything more. Maybe I’m clutching for straws, but a change in adjectives wouldn’t kill.
Stop being so negative. You’re so, so, negative, Ivy!
I don’t have to wait a very long time before he gets up and crashes in his bed. When he’s out, I feel a strange ache in my chest. It’s been months since I’ve felt anything wrapped in his arms. That warm fuzzy feeling has faded into oblivion. And like a baby, I sob quietly. I lied to myself earlier. I am a crier. From time to time it builds up and I can't hold it in. My body shakes as I hold my breath and try so hard not to make a sound. I keep asking myself why this has happened. What I could have done differently. I don’t know why I’m even here with him to begin with. We were stupid kids and we made stupid decisions.
If Mom hadn’t forced me out of the house and to the airport, I wouldn’t have come. I didn’t want to come back to him. I wanted us to end. And I know he deserves to hear that, to know the truth of just how far he’s pushed me away, but I can’t stand the thought of hurting him more. It’s easier to do it from afar. They can’t find you from afar. They can’t break down and
plead for you when they don’t know where you are.
I wish I was far away right now. Not just from Derek, per se. But from myself as well. I want to run from who I was and not have that reminder.
I want to start anew.
I used to be like Derek once upon a time. I used to always think of the now. Always blinded by the allure of “fun in the moment” and uncaring of the consequences that followed. And now I’m trapped in a marriage I fell into when I was eighteen years old.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
I breathe quietly, calming down. My eyes that have long adjusted to the darkness wander to the coffee table where my phone sits. I grab it and turn it on and wait a minute for it to boot up every app. I check my messages, all the while shaking with adrenaline.
When I see the two messages from Aidan, my chest soars and constricts all at once.
A.W.: You know why I’ve been thinking about you every day? You were so impressionable on that plane. You were the spider of death, waiting to strike, and I ambled into your web determined and uncaring of the consequences. Forgive me for being so forward, I know you’re keeping me at a distance for a reason, and I know I should respect that, but you never told me you weren’t available all the hours I sat next to you. I would have backed away immediately had I known otherwise. Instead, I fell into your allure and had already mapped out your body for the taking. I wanted you desperately. I still heartily do.
A.W.: For your sake, Ivy, I’ll do my best to be “friendly”, and not because I need a friend, but because you intrigue me. Until your situation changes, consider yourself safe. For now.
I don’t know how to feel about that. Too much to take in. I turn the phone off and set it back on the nightstand. I’ll think about it tomorrow. Regardless, I won’t respond. And I have a feeling he doesn’t expect me to.