Mister West

by R. J. Lewis

  As a result, I’m back to being a cunt in the office because it’s all I know. It’s a cover I like to maintain to ward off everyone, to keep everyone out of my reach.

  I’m hardly present, my mind has strayed, and I can’t help but think of her every minute of every fucking day, and the more I reason myself about it, the more I know Ruth is right.

  And it drives me mad.

  Ruth: Aidan, I said this to you once, a quote I read, and I think it will resonate a second time, my darling boy.

  I know the quote she’s talking about, and I damn her silently for bringing it up. Goddammit, Ruth.

  Ruth: Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives.

  Ruth: If she needs time to heal, you must obey.

  Thirty

  Ivy

  We’re eating out, and tonight everything feels okay between us. Aidan is in a good mood, and I’m just happy to get out of work and relax in a fancy restaurant with the most beautiful man on earth.

  We can talk about anything. We really are good together, I think, as he smiles at me after the waitress has taken our orders. She keeps staring at me funny, but I don’t ask her what’s stuck up her butt. Maybe she’s trying to figure out how the hell I landed this man, or maybe it’s something else.

  “Alex finally reached out to me this morning,” Aidan suddenly says, looking very happy about this development. “He wanted to see how I was.”

  I haven’t met Alex yet, or Ruth for that matter, but Ruth is in Toronto and she’s old and frail, so that’s understandable. Alex, on the other hand, is a tumbleweed. Aidan can never track him down in one spot.

  I want to ask him why Alex reached out to him all of a sudden. Seems really out of the blue. Instead, I just smile. “That’s great, Aidan. Did you have a good chat with him?”

  Aidan nods. “I told him about you.”

  “What did you say exactly?”

  “Just the usual. You’re smoking hot, have a huge ass and a mouth that can swallow just about anything –”

  “Aidan,” I scold playfully.

  He laughs. “No, no, I said you’re remarkable.” With a more serious tone, he adds, “You’ve breathed life into me again, Ivy. You’re my endgame.”

  I swallow nervously. “You can’t know that just yet.”

  “No, I know it,” he says seriously. “I’m certain of it. Being with you has made me want things…things I never knew I wanted.”

  “Like what?”

  He doesn’t skip a beat. “Everything, baby. The house, the white picket fence…” he pauses now, looking down at my left hand. “Everything.”

  He’s talking about marriage.

  I don’t answer him right away. I’m in the middle of a separation, haven’t even been divorced yet, and this man wants to marry me one day. I feel really bad for him, that he had to find a woman so complicated, that he has to wait around for that divorce, and even then, I have no desire to jump into marriage.

  Not for a very long time.

  I feel like I don’t deserve him. I want to open up to him, let him have those final pieces of my being, but I’m just…I’m just not ready. Everyday I'm struggling more than the last.

  The waitress returns with our food. She places my plate down in front of me, lingering for a beat. Then she leans in and says, “Just so you know, you’re way prettier than the pictures online.”

  I look up at her, confused. “What?”

  “Thank you,” Aidan cuts in, pointedly, trying to dismiss her with one scary look.

  When she leaves, staring back at me with a bright smile, I give Aidan a look. “Pictures of me online?”

  Aidan shrugs. “Sometimes people take pictures of me. They’re curious.”

  “I was in one of them?”

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  “Do I want to know what I look like in these pictures?”

  “You look beautiful, don’t worry.”

  Now I raise a brow. “You’ve seen them?”

  He smiles. “I only just found out about them this morning after my phone call with Alex.”

  Now I’m understanding. “He saw them.”

  “Yeah.”

  Oh, boy.

  I don’t know what to say except this was sort of expected, so I’m not surprised. I just didn’t think it would actually happen. I expected Ana to be the first one to inform me because she’s right into that shit, but maybe she didn’t on purpose.

  “Are you upset?” he asks.

  “No,” I answer. “Not at all. Let them take their photos and talk. I don’t even care.”

  I really have no desire to see them.

  He looks relieved. “Good.”

  After we’re done, we bundle ourselves up and go for a walk in downtown Ottawa, passing Parliament Hill which is glowing in the night. We’re quieter now, each of us buried in thought. This week has been long and hard and very emotional. It shouldn’t even be this way. I should be living my happily ever after right now, but I’m a fucked-up mess instead.

  I slow down and look up at him, feeling panicked.

  “I’m worried I’m pushing you away,” I blurt out, swallowing hard. “I’m not opening up to you fast enough. I’m being unfair.”

  He comes to a stop and looks down at me. “I told you I’m here, waiting.”

  “I know that, but I don’t know how long you have to wait, Aidan.”

  He frowns, looking upset. “This is what I was worried about, Ivy, about going too fast –”

  “I don’t regret what we’ve done,” I quickly say, cutting him short. “I love us, Aidan. I do. I love us so much. That’s not the issue.”

  “What is the issue?”

  I search for the right words. “I’m hurting. I don’t know how to stop it, either.”

  “We can get you into therapy –”

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone about the way I’m feeling.”

  “How is anyone going to help you then? You’re not managing well on your own.”

  “I don’t know that,” I argue. “I’ve never been alone, Aidan. I’ve never had to work through my feelings. I’ve been surrounded by distractions this entire time –”

  “Am I a distraction?” he retorts.

  I frown. I’m saying this all wrong. “Never mind, Aidan.”

  “Why never mind?”

  “Because.”

  “Let me guess, you don’t want to talk about this too.” When I don’t answer, he steps closer to me, dropping his head to my level. “Ivy, it’s going to fucking hurt, but you have to talk about your feelings at some point. Doesn’t have to be me you talk to, either, but you can’t keep burying it in –”

  “You told me you know what that’s like,” I cut in, frustrated. “If you did, then you’d know I can’t just magically be okay enough to talk about my shitty marriage, or losing my daughter –”

  “That’s not what I said –”

  “I’m just not ready, Aidan.”

  His eyes narrow. “Not ready to speak or not ready for us?”

  My blood pressure spikes. “I don’t know anymore!”

  I may as well have slapped him by how shocked he looks. He stares at me with wide eyes, speechless and hurt. Then he runs a hand over his hair and lets out a long breath. I don’t know what to say to him. I blurted that out without even intending to. I hadn’t dared confess that to myself, that’s how much I’ve been hiding from myself. Now it’s out there in the open and that storm cloud is crackling above us.

  “Alright,” he finally whispers, nodding to himself. He won’t meet my eye. “Alright, Ivy.”

  “Aidan…”

  He looks down at the sidewalk, waiting.

  I lick my lips. “I don’t want to ruin us. I want this to work. I do.”

  “But?”

  “But I need –”

  “Time,” he finishes for me, looking into my eyes now. God, he’s in pain. “You want time. Time I originally offered you from the start. Time be
cause I wanted you to think before jumping into this. Ivy, this is what I didn’t want to happen. I opened myself up to you, baby, I gave you everything inside of me.”

  I nod, feeling awful. “I’m sorry, Aidan. I’m not trying to leave you, though –”

  “No, but this is a kind of hurt that’s hitting deep right now,” he interrupts, looking exhausted. “I let you in and it wasn’t so that you can turn around and pull away and leave me pining in the dark. If I’d known, I would have held back, Ivy. I would have protected myself.”

  I don’t answer because he’s right.

  This is entirely my fault.

  “Do you want to leave me?” I ask sadly. “Because I understand if you do.”

  He stares at me then like that’s inconceivable. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I think you deserve more than me –”

  “Enough.”

  “Then what’s the alternative?”

  “I wait,” he responds back without skipping a beat. “I fucking wait, okay? That’s the alternative, Ivy.”

  That alternative is shit.

  “So you wait,” I repeat, doubtfully, “you wait in pain while I, what, live with you and share your bed –”

  “I don’t know what the answer is, okay?” He looks exasperated. “I just know I need you in my life.”

  “Even if I’m not emotionally available for you?”

  He doesn’t respond now, but that hurt is back again in full force.

  It’s getting colder the longer we stand around. I cross my arms, shivering, but Aidan is completely fine. He’s too heavy in thought to feel the temperature dropping by the hour.

  Finally, he says, “I didn’t know I was waiting for you my whole life, Ivy, but I look back, and I see it. I see myself through the years being destructive, vile, a filthy drunk who was pushing every person away. I tatted myself up, put this bullshit on my skin so that I’d wake up to the ink and try and understand myself at my lowest. I think…I think while I was pushing every one of those people away, I was secretly waiting for the one that would fight back.”

  He sighs sadly, staring at me intensely. “I’ve been waiting for you to come along, and now that I got to call you mine, I have to watch you leave? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  I step closer, and he watches the action closely, looking guarded now. “I wouldn’t be leaving forever.”

  He doesn’t look like he believes me.

  I shiver again as a gust of cold wind sweeps through us. He frowns, noticing my discomfort. “Let’s go home, Ivy.”

  *

  The drive home is tense and quiet. When we get to the apartment, Aidan disappears into his office and I shower. When I lay in bed, I can’t sleep. I wonder what he's doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. I feel so fucking bad for what I said.

  This isn’t working.

  I shouldn’t have told him to let go. Now I’m responsible for his pain.

  I’m fucking things up, but my body is resisting for a reason and I have to listen to it.

  He comes into the room way past midnight and has a quick shower. Then he falls into bed next to me. My eyes are open. I suspect his are too.

  I suspect we’re both drowning in the silence.

  Aidan

  There’s no fix to this. I can fuck her all day long, poke around her soul, beg for her to open up to me, and it would be futile.

  I can try talking to her, digging through her layers, but she stops me from going in too far. Ivy is stubborn and broken and she doesn’t know up from down.

  She needs time.

  Time to get over her hurt, to move on from that chapter she closed behind her, but…I’m worried during this time she might not long for us anymore.

  Because time can be healing, but it can also be the enemy.

  It’s only when you love something so fucking hard that you can’t live without it does the panic manifest and the paranoia follows, delivering its blow quietly, bit by bit.

  I feel that darkness looming inside of me, fighting to take over, to protect me from heartbreak. It still exists, still thrives on my weaknesses.

  This fucker loves to watch me fall.

  Thirty-One

  Ivy

  “Are you sure about this?” Ana asks me, standing in my closet as I pack my clothes.

  “He’s miserable,” I answer, growing numb. “He won’t even look at me. It’s been days of nothing, Ana. I’ve ruined everything.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  She looks at me, concerned. Then she reaches out and grabs my arm. “Stop a second, Ivy, and think about this, okay?”

  I look back at her, determined. “I’ve thought about this. I’m tearing him apart.”

  “Leaving his apartment is what’s going to tear him apart.”

  “He gets out of bed and paces all night long, Ana. Sometimes he calls his grandmother in the middle of the night and when he comes out of the bathroom, he’s wrecked. I can’t give him what he wants, not yet, and I can see he’s hurting for it.”

  “Ivy, calm down, okay? He’s giving you space like you wanted, and he is right about what he said to you the other night; you do need to talk to someone about your issues because they’re mounting. You’re still not yourself even after you left that apartment. You’re keeping it all in, bottled up. You need to talk in order to heal, Ivy.”

  I know that, but I just can’t talk right now.

  She lets go of my arm and I continue shoving things inside the suitcase Ana got me. She doesn’t try talking me out of it anymore. This is the right thing to do. I know it.

  Loving someone who is emotionally unavailable to you is more than just heartbreaking; it means spiritually dying a slow death. That’s what I’m doing to him right now. I need to give Aidan some space to recover himself.

  And I need to find ways to heal. To explore myself and dig deep and find out why the fuck my default response is to numb myself.

  We load what we can physically carry into Ana’s car and then we go to her apartment. I feel that numbness the entire way. I want to feel it and I shouldn't. Her sister’s been gone, so I use the spare bedroom. I throw the suitcase down on the ground and sit on the single bed.

  Being here, away from Aidan’s place, feels awful. I pull my phone out and send the dreaded message I’ve been putting off all day.

  Ivy: Aidan, I’ve packed everything and have gone to Ana’s. I’m sorry to leave like this. I know it seems impulsive, but I hate seeing you hurt and knowing I’m responsible for it. You’re right. I jumped into this and I convinced you to open up to me, to let go of your reservations and fall into this with me. For that, I’m sorry. I did believe I was ready to do this with you, but I was wrong, and now I have to live with that mistake. I understand if you don’t want to wait for me on the other side. I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I am okay again. Please give me space. I care about you – I love you, Aidan.

  I put the phone down. I’m shaking everywhere. I wonder how long it’ll be until he sees the message. I don’t want to cause him grief at work, but I couldn’t do this in person. He might have convinced me to stay.

  “You okay?” Ana asks me, poking her head into the room.

  My eyes water. I shake my head. “I feel awful, Ana. I’m so fucked up.”

  She comes into the room and takes a seat next to me. “You are not fucked up, Ivy. You’re just figuring yourself out.”

  “At the expense of breaking that man’s heart.”

  “First of all, this doesn’t mean you guys are over. It just means you need space. I think he’ll respect that.” She rubs my back, looking at me dotingly. “Ivy, you’ve been through hell and back. You do need some time alone to sort your head out. I wanted this for you long before Aidan fucking-too-hot-to-ignore West came onto the scene. I knew you had to dig deep and confront all the ugly memories and the pain. I promise you won’t regret the spiritual journey you’re about to go down. You’ll know when yo
u’re ready when you come out on the other side.”

  She brings me into her arms and holds me as I finally break down and cry.

  “Let’s order some Chinese,” she says after I’ve had a good sob. “We’ll watch Princess Bride, too. It’ll get your mind off things.”

  I nod and wipe away my tears. “I’m going to clean myself up.”

  I go to the bathroom. Ana’s apartment is so small, I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to be in such small spaces. But it’s cute. She’s decorated it beautifully and made it hers. She comforts me so much, and I find being in her space, surrounded by her touch, is equally as comforting.

  I’m washing my face, feeling the cool water against my heated cheeks when I hear pounding coming from the front door. I immediately step out, and Ana is coming out of my room, too, eyes swinging to mine.

  “Ivy!”

  My shoulders drop. Aidan is at the door.

  “Open up, Ivy,” he says, his voice sounding desperate.

  I look at Ana, and she’s not moving. She watches me sadly as I move to the front door, take a deep breath, and open it.

  Aidan’s pained face greets me. His chest is moving rapidly like he raced to come up.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he snaps at me, looking over my face. “Ivy, I got your message, and I’m not agreeing to it –”

  “Stop,” I interrupt, trying to calm him down. “Please, Aidan –”

  “I want to talk. Invite me in.”

  I step aside and he comes through, his body tight and angry. He has his phone in his hand, and the screen is lit. I can see my message to him on the front, and my heart dips lower in my chest.

  He turns to me, towering over me. “I don’t agree to this,” he repeats before slamming the phone down hard on the entry table. “Your discard is not valid.”

  Leave it to Aidan to make it sound like a business deal gone bad.

  “It’s not a discard,” I tell him. “I just need time.”