Mister West

by R. J. Lewis

I freeze, my eyes widening as I stare at him nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

  He just smiles at me. “It’s true, Ivy. I’m in love with you.”

  I don’t answer straightaway. My pulse is in overdrive. My body trembles as I process his declaration. Aidan is relaxed on the other hand. He chuckles at my reaction and leans over the island to hold my hand. He doesn’t expect me to say it back. He doesn’t seem bothered that I haven’t.

  And I don’t know why I haven’t. I’m speechless and scared, and my body feels like it’s resisting to dig deep and process all the emotions I feel for Aidan. This barrier is fighting back hard because it’s terrified of what will be unleashed once I knock it down.

  When we finish eating, he gathers the plates and places them in the dishwasher. His phone is blowing up again, and he squeezes my shoulder once before going to it.

  “West,” he answers, pacing the apartment.

  It’s not Steven on the other line. It’s another man and he doesn’t sound happy.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr Eger, but I’m not going back on this,” Aidan retorts, disappearing into his bedroom.

  I’m still sitting down, still feeling shaky, trying to absorb everything but finding myself unable to. It suddenly dawns on me how different everything truly is. I stare around the apartment, not really seeing it.

  That screaming voice in my soul is back at me again.

  I told you to wait, Ivy. I told you.

  I run a hand over my face and breathe.

  Aidan

  I’ve fallen in love with Ivy Montcalm. I think I’ve loved her for a very long time. I’m not sure when it happened. It could have been sitting next to her on that flight when she was scratching at her nail polish and her ugly bracelets were clashing together.

  It might have been in front of her ugly apartment building when she looked up to stare at her apartment, trepidation in her eyes. She’d wanted to run. I should have taken her right then and made her mine.

  I might have fallen in love with her when I saw her at the ice cream parlor, and she looked like she didn’t think she belonged around a man like me. But she does.

  Point is, I don’t know when I fell in love with Ivy, but it feels like always now that I have. Truth is we’re the same under all these colorful layers of bullshit. We’re hurting every day. We’re hiding from the pain, burying it deep in one another.

  I watch her sleep. I do it often, not to be a fucking creep or anything. I do it because she mesmerizes me, and I want to protect her.

  I see the way her face strains through her nightmares; she has a lot of them. She trembles and brings her knees to her chest and she holds herself so tight, crying out the same name.

  Isabella.

  I feel wretched for her. I wish to know her pain. I would shoulder it for her if she’d let me. Anything to ease her.

  Ruth is right, though.

  I’m sensing Ivy’s unease. I’m sensing her fear. She has a flight or fight response in her, and I’m terrified of it. I’m terrified of her running.

  She’s reserving that tiny piece of herself. The piece that gives her the ability to shut off and pull away. It’s fucking amazing what the body does to bury our pain. I know it all too well – I feel it every day.

  I hold Ivy to me, bury my nose in her hair and pray she finds solace from the nightmares, from her hurt. As fucked up as I am, I pray I’m good enough – deserving enough – to have her.

  Twenty-Nine

  Ivy

  My phone rings on my way back home from work. I’m in the car with Gaston when I check it. Ana’s name flashes across my cracked screen.

  “Hey, you,” I answer.

  “Good news, babe,” she responds cheerfully. “You don’t need to pay half of the rent anymore. Derek’s found someone to take over the lease, so you’re all set, okay?”

  Fucking finally.

  My brows shoot up. “You’re joking.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Oh, my God.” I feel a huge sense of relief. “That shit was getting expensive on me, Ana.”

  She laughs. “Well, not anymore. How do you feel?”

  “Good. Really good.” And curious. “How did you find out?”

  “He called me like ten minutes ago to let me know. He said he didn’t want to reach out to you because he knows you need your space.”

  I go quiet, surprised by that. He’s actually letting me go then?

  “He respects your wishes and it will be an uncontested divorce,” Ana adds. “He says he’s going to work on himself from here on out, but he wishes the best for you.”

  “I’m not sure I buy that,” I reply doubtfully. “He says that and then afterwards he acts like it never happened –”

  “He’s checking himself into rehab,” she interrupts, sounding serious. “I don’t know how he’s done it, but he’s getting into a good one and everything has already been paid for. He won’t even be in the same city come next week.”

  I feel bitter and I'm surprised by my reaction. On one hand, I’m happy that he’s making these changes for himself. On the other hand, where was this drive when we were together? All I see when I think of him is that angry alcoholic who broke my things and cheated on me while I went through the worst pain of my life.

  “Good,” I find myself saying, sourly. “I never want to see him again, Ana. I’ve never wanted to close a chapter so much in my life and never look back.”

  “I understand,” she says sympathetically. “I feel like I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “No, I’m glad you did. I’m happy he won’t be in the same city as me anymore. I don’t care what happens to him from this point on.”

  I’m not being very nice, I know, but he bled me dry emotionally. By the time I realized the damage, it was too late, and now I’m living with this boulder in my chest I can’t shake. I close my eyes and see Isabella. I open them and hear my heart beating in my ears.

  I’m coming undone, and Aidan’s hands, while soothing at first, are now drawing out feelings that feel like knives in my chest.

  It’s been two weeks since he’s told me he loves me. I don’t have any doubt he feels that for me because I can see it in his eyes, I can feel it in his touches. Aidan has latched onto me hard and strong and he isn’t letting go.

  I’m still sore from last night’s session. From his rough hands and passionate kisses. I’m falling for him, too, I feel it and it hurts. Is it supposed to hurt this much, I wonder.

  When I get home, I don’t eat the food already prepared in the fridge. I pull out ingredients and make a hearty pasta dish loaded with cheese and meat. I’m tired but I need to work my body.

  Aidan messages me, but I don’t look at them just yet. I’m in a daze, lost in thought, trying to process Derek checking himself into rehab.

  “Fuck that guy,” I hiss, angrily. “Fuck that guy!”

  Everything is suddenly coming to the surface.

  I should have left him a long time ago.

  I shake my head to myself. No, no, I’m damning the wrong person.

  “Fuck me,” I say, feeling my eyes water. “I should have left years ago. Stupid and fucking weak Ivy. So fucking stupid.”

  So much wasted time. Who knows where I would have wound up had I listened to my gut sooner and left him. Maybe Isabella wouldn’t have happened, and I pause right then, tears springing to my eyes. Would that have been better? If she hadn’t happened at all? Would not knowing this pain have been better for me?

  I finish the meal an hour later and leave it sitting on the stove. Then I wander to my bedroom and not Aidan’s. I open my closet and step inside, feet hitting the countless bags I still haven’t unpacked because I knew, I knew what I might find.

  I drop to my knees and empty all of them. Clothes and make-up and stupid, pointless girly shit I didn’t even remember having are sprawled out in a giant mess around me. I’m hunting something down. A memory. Something I know will break me if I see it, but I have to know it’s there,
I have to know it happened.

  I’m shaking and sucking in panicked breaths, terrified Ana might not have packed it after all.

  “Don’t let him have it,” I whisper desperately. “He’ll have thrown it away.”

  He doesn’t deserve that shoebox.

  I crawl to another corner of the closet, digging deep in other bags, and then it happens. My fingers brush along something hard. I pull out that familiar blue shoebox, my heart lighting up in my chest.

  I open it and stare at the contents.

  My heart is beating slowly but painfully. Every beat feels like a bullet of pain.

  I pull out the tiny little onesie. The first one she’d ever worn. It’s got a pattern on it like that of a prisoner’s and says “9 months Inside” on the front, but she never made it to 9 months. It’s so tiny. I bring it to my nose and breathe it in, trying to remember the scent of her. Please, smell like her. Tears flow out of my eyes as I set it down and continue to look through the box. I pick up her hospital tag with her name and kiss it. Then I find her ultrasound pictures, and now I really can’t keep it together.

  This is why I preferred familiarity. I preferred the numbness it provided. I preferred escaping this pain. It was easier to accept what happened. Isabella came out to soon, lungs not developed enough, and I blamed myself everyday for not being able to carry her longer. Until I stopped blaming myself and ignored the thoughts. I ignored the pain and focused on the routine of life.

  It took months to feel numb, and during that time, Derek spat it and fucked another woman. Maybe countless more even. I don’t know. But when that pain set in, that’s when I needed to run. I packed my shit, ignored his pleas and took off to my mother’s where I wound up ignoring my pain some more.

  But ignoring the pain isn’t working anymore.

  Being with Aidan West is like ripping off a deep wound I’ve tried to heal with Band-Aids. Everything is coming to the surface, oozing out of me.

  “Ivy?”

  His voice breaks through the quiet. I look up. Aidan is standing out front of my closet, looking down at me with concern. I didn’t even hear him coming home. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here.

  When I don’t respond, he slowly approaches me. His eyes scan the closet, settling on the ultrasound photos in my hand and then the shoebox next to me.

  “Hey,” he whispers soothingly, dropping down to his knees beside me. His arms come around me.

  “I’m fine,” I start to say.

  “You’re not. You’re not fine, Ivy. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I don’t know where to start.

  I look down at the box. “Derek is leaving.”

  Aidan stares at me hard. “Does that bother you?”

  “No, no…He’s checked himself into a rehab or something, and he’s found someone to take over the lease.”

  Aidan doesn’t look surprised. “He’ll be gone, and you won’t have to worry about him coming back. Isn’t this a good thing?”

  Now I’m staring at him suspiciously. “Was this your doing?”

  “Him leaving?” He shrugs. “I had a word with him when I pulled you out of there all that time ago.”

  “What did you say?”

  He looks tired. “I made some threats.”

  “Aidan…”

  He gives me a short smile. “Ivy, I told him to fuck off. Said I’d take care of the apartment, have someone take it over in due time. I had to get a lot of things repaired first. That's why it took so long. There wasn’t a fucking wall he didn’t punch through, the door to the bathroom was barely hanging on, and the carpet was destroyed. He…” Aidan pauses, looking angry now. “He is a piece of fucking shit, Ivy. I don’t regret pushing him out.”

  “Did you put him in that rehab too?”

  “I gave him money as an incentive to fuck off. Him going there is of his own doing.”

  My mouth parts in shock. “How much money did you give him?”

  Aidan looks away. “Doesn’t matter, does it? Point is he fucked right off the second I wrote him that check. If you have a soft spot for that dick, now’s the time to harden it.”

  “I don’t,” I argue, shaking my head. “I don’t have a soft spot for Derek, but…I’m coming undone just remembering everything, Aidan. I’m…” I let out a shaky breath as I quickly place everything back into the shoebox and close it. “I’m not in a good place, okay? I need to just sit here and think.”

  Aidan is staring at the shoebox now. “Are you going to tell me about her?”

  “No,” my voice comes out harder than I intended. I quickly soften it. “No, Aidan, please, not now. I’m not ready, okay?”

  He studies me. “Okay, baby, I understand.”

  *

  Aidan leaves me alone in the closet to collect myself. By the time I’m out, he’s set up the table in the dining room with the pasta I made. His suit jacket is off, along with his tie. He’s unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and kicked off his shoes. He fills a glass of wine for me as I sit down at the head of the table.

  He looks unsure of himself as he sits down next to me, peering at me with concern. I want to lay a hand over his and reassure him, but I’m still out of it, still processing.

  We eat in silence. I take a few bites, and he’s demolishing his bowl. I think Aidan stress eats, whereas I can barely keep anything down.

  Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, looking defeated. “Talk to me, Ivy. I need to know what’s in your head.”

  I kick around the pasta. “I don’t know, Aidan. I’m barely registering right now.”

  His eyes fill with concern. “Ivy…” He fidgets in his chair, clenching a first and unclenching. “I’m trying, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when you’re like this. Guide me, baby.”

  I look back at him, feeling a fissure in my chest at the lost look on his face. “This time, Aidan, I don’t know how to,” I confess weakly.

  “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

  “No.”

  “We can go for a walk.”

  “It’s really cold out there. I think it’ll snow soon.”

  “I’ll take you on a trip somewhere warm. Do you like Mexico?”

  I just give him a dry look. “No, Aidan…relax, okay?”

  But he’s not relaxing. His shoulders are tense as he watches me. “Are you thinking of leaving me?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, no, Aidan, I don’t want to do that.”

  He should feel relieved, but he doesn’t look like it. He’s appearing more strained. “Do you love me, Ivy?”

  Just like that, he looks like a little boy. His eyes peer at me with sadness, trying to read me. I look back, feeling choked up all of a sudden because I know I’m not doing a good enough job consoling him, but…my head is a mess, my heart is constantly beating chaotically in my chest and I’m hurting.

  “Yes,” I whisper to him, feeling my eyes water. “Yes, I love you, Aidan. I know that I do.”

  Again, he doesn’t feel relieved. He just stares at me – into me – lost and confused.

  He gathers the plates when we’re done and paces. He dumps them in the kitchen, comes back, stares out the window and then me, and then he’s pacing again.

  *

  Aidan is trying hard to use what he knows works to soothe me.

  He fucks me.

  He doesn’t stop.

  He’s pouring his soul into me. He’s making his fears known and then he’s hiding from them by taking it out on my body.

  His focus is no longer on my body, either. When he takes me, he’s over me, my legs are spread for him. He fucks me, watching my face like it’s all he needs to see to get there. He kisses me tenderly, making love to me, whispering my name like a worship.

  “Come on,” he tells me as he watches me get closer. “I want you to look at me, Ivy, want to see it in your eyes, baby.”

  He wants to see it, he repeats, and he doesn’t have to explain. He wants to see my love, my d
evotion to us; he wants to see me stripped and naked, my soul bare to him.

  It’s not working, and there’s a pain in his eyes that hits me layers deep. I come and then I stroke his face tenderly, apologizing wordlessly.

  He doesn’t look back.

  *

  Something is very wrong with me. Days go by and the darkness looming over us turns into a storm cloud. It’s getting harder to ignore, harder to breathe. I'm not feeling well.

  I hear him at night talking to someone. He sounds quiet but sad. Sometimes he sounds desperate. One of the times I hear him call her by her name.

  Ruth.

  He’s talking to his grandmother. He’s seeking some kind of reassurance that he isn’t getting from me. I toss and turn and feel like I’m fucking everything up because this stupid fucking heart of mine doesn’t want to open up.

  I’m not being fair, am I? I should have waited. He was right to resist me after all. Turns out my mother knew what she was talking about all along.

  She was worried about me, and I tried to prove her wrong, but now I just want to run. Run back to her because she was right. Everything hurts and I’m down and I don’t know how to fix this.

  I'm crying too much, shutting down too often, hurting and pushing him and everyone else away.

  I don’t know how to make him happy.

  Aidan

  Ruth: If she wants space, you must respect that. If she needs time to heal, you must give her it. You must be prepared to let her go, even if it’s just for a little while.

  I shake my head at Ruth’s message. It’s not what I want to hear. Every inch of me resists the thought of having to let Ivy go.

  It’s not going to happen.

  But the more I’m around Ivy lately, the more I’m feeling the distance she’s putting up. I can’t get through to her, and it’s making me lose my mind. It's happened so suddenly, triggered by Derek, or maybe this was a slow build up and it's finally taken its toll.