by Ali Merci
“There’s nothing good going on,” Hunter muttered, tossing the remote onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “We should just binge-watch Daredevil like I suggested.”
“I’m not into TV shows.” Carmen frowned, speaking through a mouthful of popcorn and earning a disgusted look from Hunter which she just ignored.
“You’ll like this one, trust me,” he told her and then suddenly knitted his eyebrows together as if something occurred to him just then. “You know, whenever I watch it, the dude sort of reminds me of San Román.”
“Asa,” Carmen corrected, feeling that tug at her heartstrings again. “He hates being called by his surname.”
Hunter grinned. “I know.”
Carmen averted her gaze, focusing on filling her palms with another helping of popcorn. “Why, uh, why does watching it remind you of him?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Must be the whole saviour thing. Dude can’t turn a blind eye to injustice, can he?” And then Hunter’s expression darkened. “Perfect little Asa.”
Silence fell over them and Carmen’s hand froze, before she inhaled deeply and let the popcorn fall back into the bowl.
“Don’t do that,” she muttered, looking Hunter directly in the eyes.
“What?” His blank stare was fixed on the television screen, but Carmen could tell he wasn’t paying attention to what was playing.
“Belittle him that way,” she said, her voice firm. “Mock him. Don’t do that. He’s got his flaws too. He’s aggressive and he can be a hothead sometimes. He tends to let hate get to him a lot, likes to speak with his fists whenever he can, but at the end of the day, his heart is always in the right place. And that doesn’t make him perfect. It just makes him a better person than either one of us.”
At the last part, Hunter’s gaze fell on her and something in them softened. “Don’t lower yourself to the same level as me,” he said quietly. “You made a bad choice in telling him you were in love with him when you weren’t and letting him believe that you were ready for a relationship, but that doesn’t make you anything like me, Carmen. Don’t let yourself think like that.”
Carmen just stared back at him before dropping her eyes and grabbing some popcorn. “Yeah, well, he hates you, and now he hates me too. We’re on the same level in his eyes.”
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said after a while, frowning slightly as he observed her.
“Don’t be.” She sighed. “If I had let it go on any longer—”
“Not about the way things ended,” Hunter interrupted her, shaking his head. “But for the part I played in putting you in a position where you needed to look for love in someone else.”
A frown crawled over Carmen’s face at that, the tugging in her chest growing painful now. Something about the way it was worded didn’t seem right. She hadn’t looked for love in Asa, had she? It hadn’t been like that.
“I didn’t have to look for love when it came to him, you know,” she looked down at her hands, greasy fingers playing with each other, “it was just there. As if he was just saving it all for me and wasn’t shy about showering me with it whenever he could.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to the side as if analysing her. “You have feelings for him,” he stated, not really questioning it.
Carmen’s eyes snapped to him in surprise. “Of course I do. Why on earth would you think otherwise?”
His mouth turned down in confusion. “So…can’t you—can’t you just ask him to wait ’till you’re ready to begin a relationship?”
“After everything that I’ve done, do you really think he’s going to believe a word that I say?” Carmen shook her head, turning away and staring into space. “It’s one thing to not tell someone you’re in love with them when they’ve said it to you. But to say it back and then tell them you never meant it? No, Hunter, I can’t. I can’t ask any more of him. Time is all that he’s given me, and I just proved to him he put all that effort and trust in someone who didn’t deserve an ounce of it. He has all right to feel the way he’s feeling now.”
“But he’s in love with you.”
“It’ll fade,” Carmen muttered, feeling her chest squeeze, “It has to.”
Hunter let out a short laugh. “Is that what you’re hoping for, Carmen? That your feelings will fade?”
She pressed her lips tightly together, not looking at him. “Yes,” she eventually replied. “It will.”
Through her peripheral vision, she saw Hunter place the bowl from his lap onto the coffee table and then turn around sideways so that he was completely facing her. “And what if it doesn’t?” he challenged, his eyes drilling holes into the side of her head. “I’m not good with all this couple shit, but I’m smart enough to know there’s an alternative to every situation. So, tell me then, what if your feelings don’t fade? What if it just grows, Carmen? Because that can happen, right? Once you’re in a better place than you are in right now—”
“I thought you said you were done with heavy topics for tonight.”
“Shut up,” he snapped, making Carmen flinch but before she could say anything else, he was speaking again, his tone merciless and harsh. “Don’t try to shut me out when I talk about something you don’t like hearing! I had thought that you’d have learnt your lesson about pushing people away by now, especially since it cost you the possible love of your life.”
Carmen froze, the air leaving her lungs at the brutality of his words and that icy tone he’d just used on her, causing her to just blink at him in stunned silence. Something must have shown on Carmen’s face though, because Hunter’s demeanour instantly softened and regret flashed across his face.
“Hey,” he murmured, shifting closer. “I didn’t—it wasn’t supposed to come out sounding like that, okay? I’m, I’m sorry—it’s just…” he trailed off and Carmen watched him struggle, jaw clenching and relaxing again and again until he just sighed heavily. “This is new. Trying to be supportive—just being there for you… Being civil towards you—it still feels like a dream sometimes and I’m just. I’m still getting used to it.”
And maybe Carmen did get it because how long had Hunter spent hidden behind his walls? Behind a hard as steel exterior? And, now, here he was, trying to be soft for her, trying to soften himself.
After a long moment, Carmen just exhaled softly and relaxed against the cushions. “Its fine,” she mumbled. “I just don’t want to think about the alternative, that’s all.”
“Well.” He shrugged. “I’m going to make you think about it anyway. Because you convincing yourself of something not going to happen, doesn’t mean it won’t happen, Carmen.”
“Don’t,” she said quietly, the word falling past her lips in a plea as her eyes closed momentarily. “Please don’t. I know you’re trying to help, but I just need you to be here for me, okay? None of that tough love right now. I just want you to be here, that’s all. Just this once.”
Hunter seemed to debate with himself before his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he sank into the couch. “All right, Carmen,” he said softly. “I’m here. You’ve got me.”
Carmen’s eyes opened, and she met Hunter’s blue ones that, for once, didn’t look like a frozen river but a gentle sea. “Thank you,” she murmured, shooting him the tiniest of smiles.
But even after Carmen closed her eyes again to welcome sleep, it was a pair of coffee-coloured ones that stared right back at her in the darkness.
And in that darkness, she heard it: “mi amor mi cielo mi sol”.
And like a loyal shadow, the rest followed.
“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you”.
•••
Somewhere along the first week of January, Carmen found herself seated on a rather comfortable sofa, not that it did much to ease her nervousness.
The small room was decorated in soft tones: cream walls, two identical sofas of a very light shade of grey with cream-coloured throw pillows on them that were separated by a small round coffee table.
The window on the wall towards Carmen’s left had a white frame, with white curtains swaying gently and brushing against the tiny flower pots that sat on the ledge at the bottom of the glass.
She didn’t know what an office of a therapist was supposed to look like, but she figured this was good enough. It did feel somewhat cosy after all.
“So, Carmen,” the woman sitting on the other identical couch opposite Carmen spoke. “What brings you here?”
Gloria Jacobs was a thin, wiry woman but quite tall too—just not so much that it came off as intimidating. She had skin that reminded Carmen of dark chocolate, and her eyes were just as rich, almost fading into black. Her dark hair with caramel lowlights was pulled back into a bun, with a few loose strands framing the side of her long, oval face.
“Carmen?”
“Sorry,” Carmen mumbled, feeling flustered. “I—uh, I spaced out for a moment there. What was it that you asked again?”
Gloria smiled pleasantly. “What brings you here, to my office?”
“I don’t know.” The words left Carmen’s mouth before she could think them through, but it was pretty obvious to both of them in that room that she was lying, that she did know why she wanted to be there.
Gloria relaxed into her seat, left leg folded over the right one and her hands resting atop one another above the armrest of the sofa.
“You don’t know?” Gloria’s tone was like everything else about her: dainty and laid-back and like she was in no hurry to get anywhere.
When Carmen realised that her tongue wouldn’t move, that everything that she’d planned on saying once she got here had frozen somewhere down her throat, she pressed her lips together in a firm line and dug her fingers into the cushion she was sitting on.
Open up, Carmen. Tell this woman. Tell a complete stranger about twelve years of torment, about almost eighteen years of pain and guilt, she told herself.
“Okay, Carmen.” Gloria nodded once. “Can you tell me what changed? What made you decide to come for therapy now?”
Carmen’s brows furrowed, and the wheels in her head began spinning, thoughts racing each other like mini rockets in her head.
Why had she decided to get help only now? Was it shame that had prevented her this whole time? Why now? What was it that made her decide enough was enough? That she needed to flush out the poison her past had left behind?
“I—I found someone,” Carmen told her, tone uncertain and shaky but Gloria wasn’t frowning or looking at her oddly so Carmen went on. “Someone from my past. They—they came back into my life, and I think—well, certain memories came back with them too. And it’s getting harder to just sweep it all under the rug, I guess.”
“And this is what made you decide to come here? This certain someone was the trigger?”
“No,” Carmen whispered, her sight becoming unfocused as she stared off into nothingness. No, that couldn’t be right. Hunter had been back into her life for quite a while now, and yes, his sudden reappearance did remind her of times they spent together in the Rutherford mansion, but she hadn’t thought about letting herself heal then.
So, what was it?
“Thanksgiving?” Carmen’s frown deepened, noticing that her response sounded more like a question than a direct answer.
Gloria seemed to find that particularly interesting. She leant forward slightly and narrowed her eyes in the most subtle manner—the gesture was so discreet that Carmen would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the fact that she was focusing on every single movement—even the slightest twitch—of this woman.
“What about Thanksgiving, Carmen?”
“Horrible,” she answered, spitting out the first word that came to her mind. “It was when everything changed. When everything I tried so hard to push back to the furthest corner of my mind, it just…everything just exploded, I guess.”
“Okay, Carmen.” Gloria offered her a pleasant smile again. It was the only way Carmen knew how to describe her smile: pleasant. “Is that what you want me to help you with? You want to stop pushing away things that you find…horrible?”
Carmen’s eyes snapped to hers, confusion creasing her forehead. “You’re not going to ask me about Thanksgiving?”
Gloria smiled again and gave a small shake of her head. “We’ll get there, don’t worry. Right now, we’re still in our first session. So, tell me. What is it that you hope to get out of all this?”
That was one answer Carmen didn’t need to think about; it was why she’d come after all. “I want to be able to let people in,” she said tentatively. “To just be able to get along with people better, whether with peers, or…or even form actual friendships. To just—just be able to connect.”
And so, it went. Simple but probing questions were thrown here and there while Carmen did most of the talking, trying to explain over her jittery nerves and racing heartbeats, almost to the point where her words tripped over each other and she had to get a hold of herself before proceeding with her response.
Carmen was certain it hadn’t taken too long, but when their time was up, it almost felt like she’d spent an eternity in that room.
Did it always feel this way? Would it always feel this way? Because it seemed sort of silly, being here and talking to someone she didn’t know about her issues.
Carmen also felt kind of stupid, really. What if Gloria had tended to people with much severe problems? What if she thought Carmen was just lost and making her life seem more suffocating than it actually was?
“Carmen?” Gloria called, looking at her with shrewd eyes. “Is there something on your mind?”
Carmen opened her mouth, then closed it, only to open it and shut it again. “I—uh,” she hesitated, “well, I was wondering if—I know it’s still our first session and it’s too soon to tell—but—but do you think I could get better? Make actual progress?”
Gloria didn’t answer right away, but when she did finally respond, that small pleasant smile was gracing her lips again. “I think that you know why it is that you’re here—what it is that you’re hoping to get out of our time together. And that’s good. Quite good, actually.”
Carmen smiled then, feeling something inside her start to crumble, not in the manner where she could feel everything inside her break and fall apart, but in the sense that something within was breaking free.
And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such genuine, soul-satisfying hope.
57.
Ghosts From The Past
Asa smiled at the camera, the forced gesture hurting his cheeks and the flash blinding him momentarily.
“Perfect!” Lyra squealed, grinning so wide that Asa found it miraculous her face didn’t split open.
“That’s the sixth attempt of yours to take a selfie of us,” Asa remarked dryly, watching as Lyra’s fingers swept across her phone’s screen, trying to decide on a filter.
“Haven’t you heard?” She grinned, eyes still fixed on the device, “sixth time’s the charm.”
Asa snorted. “You mean third time’s the ch—”
“Oh, can you not rain on my parade?” She shot him an annoyed glare before going back to upload the photo on one of her social media accounts with the tag #EighteenthBirthdayBash, causing Asa to roll his eyes.
“If I remember correctly, this is my parade,” he told her with a raised brow. “Which, by the way, you weren’t supposed to organise because I told Wyatt and Hayden I wasn’t exactly up for any celebrations.”
Lyra closed down the app she was using and turned the phone’s screen off before tucking it into her back pocket and frowning up at Asa. “You know, everyone here’s having a good time but the birthday boy himself,” she commented.
Asa sighed, eyes sweeping over all the nameless people dancing to the deafening music reverberating throughout Lyra’s house, plastic red cups being passed around every other minute or so.
This used to be his kind of scene. Once. But it no longer held the same allure.
“We
ll,” he paused. “Thanks for going through all the trouble to throw this whole thing on my behalf.” He offered Lyra a tight smile and walked around her, heading towards the balcony upstairs in a sudden need for fresh air.
When Asa finally managed to squeeze his way through the crowd and sneak into the balcony, he noticed there were water droplets scattered all over the wooden railings. His eyes flickered upwards on instinct and watched as it continued to drizzle, the breeze occasionally spraying some of the raindrops his way.
Did Carmen like the rain?
Asa had never got around to asking her that, and now he wished he had.
He supposed she wouldn’t. After all, she enjoyed walks, didn’t she? She loved visiting the local parks and just sitting there. And the rain would’ve been more of a hindrance in her eyes.
But then again, Carmen probably wouldn’t mind it too much. She loved nature just as it was, didn’t she? She would have continued to love it: heat, rain or snow. She had always been so ready to walk during the chilly weather without so much as a sweater, that he was certain she would gladly do so even while the sky was pouring down from above her too.
That seemed more like Carmen, always ready and willing to accept things as they were without wanting to change a single element.
Asa wondered why she couldn’t love herself as much as she loved everything else around her.
A strong gust of wind blew past, spraying some of the rain right into his eyes and ruffling his hair. Asa blinked, his vision becoming slightly blurry before he rubbed the raindrops from his eyes and looked down at Lyra’s front lawn with a clearer sight.
A girl squealed, drawing Asa’s attention, and he watched as she ran down the grass, with her friend yelling something from behind, both of them running to take shelter under the veranda as the rain grew heavier, no longer a drizzle now.