Mister West

by R. J. Lewis

  He drops his head down to my level, looking at me nervously. “Are you leaving me, Ivy?”

  “I’m not trying to leave you.”

  “Then grab your shit and come back.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  His nostrils flare. “Why the fuck not?”

  “I’m not ready to go back, Aidan. I just need time.”

  He shakes his head. “This is your flight response. It’s not real.”

  “But it is real,” I urge him. “I’m not running from myself anymore.”

  He looks at me, his desperation growing. “I’ll give you your space. But you can do that at home with me. I won’t bother you –”

  “I don’t think I’m strong enough to be around you, Aidan. Not yet. I want to do this the right way. I want us to work, but for that to happen I need to sort out the mess in my fucking head. I’m not here because I want to be. I’m here because I have to be.”

  At first he looks like he’s about to resist. He opens his mouth, his face tense, but then he closes his mouth again. I wait for him to talk, to agree to this because I know deep down I have to do this.

  He lets out a sigh, looking down at his feet with pinched brows.

  “I don’t want to live a life without you in it, Ivy,” he says quietly. “I want you desperately. If…being here means you get to heal and I’m not in the way of that, I will go.” He swallows thickly. “But…I want to know before I leave that you’re not going to forget about me. That you’re going to wait for me. I want you to fall in love with me, Ivy, the right way.”

  “Loving you isn’t a problem,” I express, blinking rapidly to fight the tears. “It happened so naturally, Aidan. What I didn’t expect was the pain that came with opening myself. I have a shadow, too, and it’s big and heavy, and I need to confront it before we can go forward.”

  He listens to me patiently and nods once, looking morose. But he’s accepting. He’s understanding. Then he glances around the apartment. “Are you going to be comfortable here?” he asks, flatly.

  “I am,” I tell him.

  He walks around, passing Ana who’s been standing out front of my door the entire time, chewing on her nail. Aidan pokes his head into the spare bedroom, and I know he doesn’t like what he sees because his nostrils flare and he looks pissed, but he doesn’t say a word. He just blinks hard and returns to the entrance way, hands in the pockets of his grey suit pants.

  He never looks like he just belongs, does he? He’s always too big, too dominating, too fucking intense. A part of me doesn’t want this to happen. It’s screaming at me now to hold on to him and go back, but that’s the duality of me. If I go back, I’ll fight myself to have more space. I need to figure myself out. I don’t want to be a yo-yo in his life.

  “I’ll find you someone to talk to,” he then tells me, voice detached. “Someone good. I won’t…I won’t reach out if that’s not what you want –”

  “I don’t mind the messages,” I quickly say. “I want us to still communicate.”

  He won’t look at me now. “I’ll have someone reach out to you. You’ll take it at your own pace, Ivy. Take all the time you need.”

  He’s shutting down. I try to come near to him, but he steps away, adamant to keep a distance from me. I know he’s protecting himself again. The next time he glances at me, he’s cool, his emotions are shut off. He’s coming to terms with this.

  I hate seeing the change in him. It’s alarming how quickly he shut himself off and embraced the numbness.

  I study him, breathing slowly. “Maybe you need to heal too, Aidan.”

  “What I need to heal from, Ivy, is the whiplash that’s going to come of this,” he says coldly, flexing his jaw now as he thinks. “I’m struggling to catch up, and I’m feeling really resentful thinking I could trust you with my heart, however small and cold it was when I gave it to you.”

  A tear escapes my eye. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are,” he says, irritably. “Which is why this is so fucking difficult. I’m angry, alone, and putting on my mask because it’s all I fucking know. Which means, Miss Montcalm, I’m back to square one.” He inhales sharply. “But that’s okay, it’s what I know best, and should you not want me when all this is done, it’ll hurt like a motherfucker, but I think…I think I will endure. So long as you're happy.”

  I suck in a breath as another tear falls. His sudden coldness pains me. “I’ve broken your heart, haven’t I?”

  His face is clear of emotion. He glances down at his watch, not answering my question. His chest moves slowly, his mouth parts. Another look of pain pokes out from under that cool mask before he hides it again.

  He steps back, shoulders falling. “I can't... I need to go now, Ivy,” he says in a rush. “Take care of yourself.”

  He hurries out of the apartment without looking back.

  The Messenger

  A.W.: How are you, Ivy?

  Ivy: I’m good, Aidan. How are you?

  A.W.: I’m good. Missing you.

  Ivy: I miss you, too.

  A.W.: It’s been the longest four weeks of my life.

  Ivy: Of mine too.

  *

  A.W.: Good morning, Ivy. I hope you have a good day.

  Ivy: Thanks, Aidan. I hope you have a good day too.

  A.W.: What are your plans? I understand the therapist reached out to you a while back. How’s that going?

  Ivy: Yes, I have had a few sessions with her, but haven’t really said anything yet. She said that’s normal, though. I’m feeling hopeful. I do feel like it’s time I talk.

  A.W.: It is normal. I’m really glad to hear you’re going through with this. I want nothing but the best for you, Ivy.

  *

  A.W.: Really fucking missing you, Ivy. I’m not doing too well.

  Ivy: I’m feeling it, too.

  A.W.: I keep thinking I could have done things differently. I shouldn’t have let you go.

  Ivy: I’m still here.

  A.W.: You’re here but I can’t see you. You’re here and yet you feel so far away.

  A.W.: I’m hurting, Ivy.

  A.W.: I want you back. I want you back so badly.

  *

  Ivy: How have you been?

  A.W.: I’m alright. You?

  Ivy: I’m alright, too.

  *

  Ivy: You’re quiet. Haven’t heard from you in days. Everything okay?

  *

  Ivy: I’m thinking about you, Aidan, been doing better. Slowly getting there. I’ve started to open up during my sessions and it feels good to talk about things.

  *

  Ivy: Really hating the quiet. Really struggling not hearing from you, Aidan.

  *

  Ivy: Ana says you’ve been in the news, so I know you’re kicking around still and that makes me feel better, but I just need to know you don’t hate me because the silence is fucking me up and making me think you do.

  Ivy: I’m sorry, Aidan.

  *

  Ivy: I went to your apartment. Yeah, there was a blizzard today, but that didn’t stop me. I think I waited around all evening for you to come home. You didn’t. I’m feeling really low, Aidan. I just want to know what’s going on. I’m sorry. I really am. I’m so sorry for hurting you. I love you. Feeling really, really fucking weak right now. Like this whole thing was a stupid fucking mistake. I’m so fucking stupid.

  *

  Ivy: I worry you’ve pulled away for good. I understand. I do.

  *

  Ivy: I guess you left the city for a bit?

  *

  Ivy: I love you, Aidan West.

  Thirty-Two

  Ivy

  I am officially divorced.

  The paperwork has been finalized. I’ve been sitting in Ana’s kitchen for the past hour, nursing my coffee, staring idly at the words on the paper, thinking of only one person and one person only.

  Aidan.

  I miss him. I press a hand to my chest, right over the pain.

 
; I don’t know where he is, or how to reach him. I fear I’ll never be able to set things right again. He hates me. I’m certain of it. Why else would he have disappeared cold turkey the last six months?

  I’ve been half-alive. That’s the only word to describe it. My body is alive, but my soul feels dead. I cry myself to sleep more nights than I like to admit, and I’ve lately been doing a good job hiding that from Ana.

  I’ve been keeping busy. I’m in an online creative writing program. It’s based at the Algonquin College. I’m learning new ways to express my feelings by channeling through made-up characters and short stories. The professor says I’m extremely depressing. I just think he hasn’t been through a heartbreak with Aidan West.

  His penthouse sits empty. His cars have been put away. I only know this because I harassed Gaston by blowing up his phone four hundred and ninety-four times. He tells me he doesn’t know where Aidan is. I don’t know if I believe him. These Quebecois are good at putting on a front.

  I still haven’t looked him up, but I’ve told Ana to. Maybe there’s something new about him on those trashy tabloid rags online. She tells me there’s nothing.

  How does someone just disappear off the face of the earth?

  I wish I could do the same thing.

  A tear falls over the paperwork, and I stare at it, wondering and hoping…

  Hoping for him to return.

  *

  I’m in a deep sleep, but I’m vaguely aware there’s pounding on the front door. I don’t twitch. I spend too much time sleeping to care much about the real world. This is my safe little space. A space where I’m halfway conscious and halfway dreaming. Pain can’t reach me here.

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  I bring the covers over my head.

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Ana screeches. “How is anyone at my door?”

  I don’t know.

  Must be a neighbor.

  I don’t even care.

  I relax back into the mattress, hearing her storm around the unit when the knocks continue. Whoever is there is not letting up. Well, good. Enjoy Ana’s wrath, sucker.

  She opens the door. “Yes,” she answers sweetly, like she wasn’t just being a psycho two seconds ago.

  I hear a man’s voice respond.

  “She’s sleeping. Yeah, I know it’s 11 in the morning. She’s dead to the world, dude. Nothing will get that zombie out of bed before 4 o’clock this afternoon –”

  The man cuts her off.

  The unit goes quiet.

  Good. I can fall back asleep –

  The bedroom door opens. “Ivy, you need to get up, babe.”

  I huddle myself deeper in my covers.

  “Ivy, you’re not a fucking caterpillar, get up.”

  I don’t answer.

  “There’s a guy named Steven at the door. He says he used to work with West.”

  What?

  It’s like I’ve been resurrected. My heart instantly begins pounding. My body stiffens from shock and my eyes fly open. I throw the covers off me and spring out of bed. Ana’s still standing by the door, concerned.

  “Where is he?” I demand, voice scratchy.

  “In the living room,” she answers, looking me over. “You might want to change. You’ve been wearing those pj’s all weekend and comb your hair. You look like Cousin It.”

  She shuts the door. I don’t change. I know I should. I look like roadkill, and my hair is a bloody mess, but if someone Aidan knows is here, then something has happened, and I can’t wait a minute longer.

  I race out of the room and to the living room. The unit is tiny. I practically take three steps and I’m there. Steven is already seated on the couch. Steven, I repeat the name to myself. This is the guy Aidan grew up with, the guy that used to blow up Aidan’s phone, and occasionally got really grouchy at him. He’s dressed like Aidan too in a sleek blue suit, blond hair cropped short, expensive watch. The guy oozes money and…something else.

  His blue eyes pierce mine. I take one look into them and my body grows cold.

  Something happened.

  “Is he okay?” the words are flying out of my mouth. “Is he alive?”

  He nods quickly. “Aidan is okay. He’s alive.”

  My body sags in relief. I hurry to the armchair opposite him and collapse into it.

  “Sorry,” he then says. “I understand me being here implied something very bad happened to him.”

  I let out a slow breath.

  “Which is true, also.”

  I look up at him in surprise. “What?”

  He brings his hands together, clearing his throat like he needs to think about what he’s about to say. “I, uh…I knew about you toward the end of your relationship with Aidan. I kept wondering why he was cashing out of S.P.P. Holdings. Pressed him about it a little too aggressively than I care to admit.”

  I lean over, staring at him, trying to process. “He cashed out?”

  His brows furrow. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “He stepped down completely. Walked away with a hefty sum of money. Over a billion dollars –”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “He…” Steven pauses, staring at me strangely. “He did it to be with you.”

  Time slows. I stare at him blankly, vaguely aware of Ana’s presence beside me.

  I think back when I was with Aidan. He was telling me he was doing something huge. Something that I caught Steven on the phone tell him was too impulsive.

  “He would have wanted to do it regardless of me,” I finally say in a small voice. “He wanted to rebuild another company –”

  “He wanted to start a new life with you,” Steven cuts in. “I know this because he told me firsthand. He said he realized his purpose in life, and he finally understood me. He told me a woman can change everything and did for him.”

  I don’t speak. My eyes are burning. This is a massive information dump. My body is physically weak.

  I feel Ana’s hand on my shoulder. She rubs it. “It’s okay, Ivy,” she whispers sadly. “I love you, it’s okay.”

  I rest my hand over hers and return my gaze to Steven.

  “Where is he?” I finally ask.

  Steven’s face falls. He looks…uncomfortable. Something is very wrong, I can sense it.

  “Steven,” I press, “tell me.”

  He stands up and begins to pace around the tiny room. His hands fly behind his back, and he clasps them there as he stares down at his shoes with every step he makes. His thoughts are blazing before his eyes. He’s doing that thing again: thinking of what to say before he says it, and it’s driving me crazy.

  “You’re making her anxious,” Ana snaps. “You came all the way here to talk to her. So talk.”

  Steven stiffens at the retort, but he nods in response, like even he knows he’s being difficult. He returns to the couch and collapses back into it, and this time his face is somber. His eyes meet mine, and there’s fear…fear staring back at me.

  “Aidan went away for a while,” he says. “He went to do some soul searching, perhaps. I think he was just trying to find a way to make time pass. He was devastated, even heartbroken. You…cut him deep, but there was also determination in his movements. He told me the last time I spoke to him during this time that he was fighting his demons and he would be ready to open his heart again when he was done. I sense…I sense he was preparing himself for you, waiting for you to be ready.”

  I stop breathing, listening intently as I imagine Aidan going through his days in heartbreak. Because of me. Because I was selfish.

  “He’s waiting for me?” I whisper, feeling hope bubble to the surface.

  But Steven’s face remains solemn. “He…He started to lose himself a little bit.”

  “Why?”

  “He lost his grandmother six months ago.”

  “Oh, my God,” Ana cries out. “How?”

  He looks at her
and then me. “She was old, that’s all. Ruth was very, very old. She made it to 92. She lived a long life and died in her sleep peacefully. It’s the way we should all go at the end of our lives.”

  I’d never met Ruth, but I knew she was the light of Aidan’s life. She helped him through everything. Pulled him out of the gutter he was in when he got hooked on drugs.

  “She saved him,” I choke out. “She pulled him back from the brink.”

  Now Steven looks emotional. He nods once, swallowing. “She was a good woman. The best.”

  There’s a moment of silence. I feel like he isn’t done. In fact, I feel like he hasn’t even started.

  He lets out a long breath, regaining his composure. “Aidan grieved hard. He got distracted. You know what his favorite distraction was outside of you, don’t you, Ivy?”

  I think for a moment. “Cars?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He drove.”

  “He didn’t just drive, though.”

  I nod now. “He’s an adrenaline junkie.”

  “He is.”

  I wait some more for him to collect himself. What the hell is happening?

  Steven licks his lips, carefully saying, “He got into a really bad wreck.”

  My spine stiffens. Fear shoots through my heart. “No, no.”

  “Yeah.”

  So many images flash before my eyes, every one of them sending me into a spiral of terror. “Is he okay? Is he recovering –”

  “His body is fine,” he cuts in. “He had the most miraculous recovery. Broke a few bones, but Ruth was looking out for him. His body made it out in one piece…”

  Okay, so…? I keep staring at him, imploring him to get to the fucking point.

  Steven looks down at the floor, finally blurting out, “His mind is another matter. Aidan suffered retrograde amnesia. When he came to in the hospital, he didn’t know where he was, who he was. The doctors were hopeful this was temporary. These things happen. When the brain suffers a traumatic injury, sometimes the processor gets jumbled up. Thankfully, that appeared to be the case for Aidan. Over the following weeks he was able to piece things together. Not a hundred percent, but enough that he knew who he was, knew who I was. He remembered the launch of the company, even a bunch of our childhood memories together, but…” Steven pauses, letting out a dismal sigh. Then his eyes find mine. “Aidan can’t remember the last few years of his life.”