She looked up at the ceiling, lying on her back with the artificial sky as the only thing before her eyes. But in the basement, with the lights hanging so low… the little bulbs detached themselves like finger tips.
Fingertips of lost relationships. With her mind spinning and spinning only faster by the moment, she could only imagine what it would feel like when he is completely gone. She could feel him fading although he was right there next to her… within arms’ reach.
Timber laboriously turned her head, her hair grinding in the Oriental rug that formed the perfect centerpiece for her otherwise chaotic basement. Bob was next to her; he was speaking. In the waving lines of an otherwise straight world, she could hear him speaking in slurred and slow tones, a low drone that reached her ears with a delay and her brain with even more laxness. The blue glow by his face in a rather dimly lit basement indicated that he was on the phone.
“I’m over at Timber’s babe…” he spoke earnestly, emphatically clenching at his tee-shirt. “I’m so stoned right now… I’ll come over later—better yet, why don’t you come over here… I’m over at Timber’s. Come over here.”
He was talking to Carmen.
Timber turned her head back to stare at the ceiling.
He was fading further and further away…
She turned to Clint, laying on her other side, to the left. But she still saw him there.
It had been so good… She couldn’t imagine losing him. She couldn’t lose him, but somehow her love for him had gotten in the way. With jealousy and angst, there would never be enough space for the both of them.
And certainly Carmen would never have to be the one to leave.
You and me, we used to be together. Everyday together, always.
She could, at that moment, remember every time they’d spent. It was only then that she realized how little time it had taken to get to know him. It was almost as if she was just meeting him and, just like that, he was becoming an integral part of her life. But it had become that way with the entire group.
I really feel that I’m losing my best friend. I can’t believe this could be the end.
But she and him, they had something special. They had their own little group, like a secret club almost—they were extra close. There were those times when it was only them and they reveled in it. He could not tell her that they didn’t, no one could. It was those times that were priceless—those were the moments that defined their friendship as indefinable. Those were the moments that were her favorite.
There were those jokes that only he laughed at; those little faces she made. She could tell him anything. There were those things he knew that no one else knew… except for the fact that she loved him. For some reason, she didn’t have the guts to tell him, knowing that it would solve nothing. It would just make things awkward. And when things got awkward, that’s when she would loose him forever.
Her love for him would make him leave her.
It looks as though… you’re… letting go. And if it’s real well I don’t want to know…
Don’t speak, I know what you’re saying so please stop explaining. Don’t tell me cuz it hurts.
She suddenly felt numb. Her muscles tensed, her fists furrowing into little nervous balls. She had ruined them. It was her. It was all her fault.
Don’t speak. I know what you’re thinking and I don’t need your reasons. Don’t tell me cuz it hurts.
There was nothing she could do. She was powerless. There was nothing she could say to him to apologize. She could never turn back. She could never make the feelings go away. They would always be there and she would always be under their power.
She heard him giggle from beside her and felt the movement of his arm as if it were her arm.
She shivered.
Our memories, they can be inviting, but some are all together mighty frightening...
She could remember it. There were so many good times they’d spent when her emotions hadn’t been an issue. It was because those were the moments when she knew for sure that she was the center of his world. Those were the times that she knew she was the only one.
She knew he felt it too. He felt how good it was. He couldn’t deny it. He must have felt her slipping away too.
As we die, both you and I. With my head in my hands I sit and cry…
Maybe he wanted her gone. Maybe he didn’t love her back and he wanted her to stop loving him. Her eyebrows creased as her eyes pricked with tears.
She was so stupid.
Don’t speak. I know just what you’re saying. So please stop explaining. Don’t tell me cuz it hurts.
What made her think that he would suddenly want to marry her, to make her his leading lady, the love of his life? What made her think she was worth his time. Although Carmen wasn’t exactly his princess, what made her believe so strongly that he had a princess at all.
No, no. Don’t speak. I know what you’re thinking. I don’t need your reasons. Don’t tell me cuz it hurts.
She was destroying the one stable thing in his life. She was destroying the only stable thing in both of their lives. She was being selfish, yet again, and ruining the only thing she knew in all of her life that was real.
It’s all ending, we gotta stop pretending who we are…
But it was too late. It was too late because they were dying. They were losing each other; she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know how to hold on to him, how to hold on to anything.
Her life was going to shit and she knew it. She could feel her mind melting into the mush of all of the recent occurrences. There was such limited stability in one’s life; what would anchor her to the world? She had always had Bob. She was deliberately trying to make him jealous with his identical twin brother, and she loved Clint with all of her heart, but she loved Bob with everything the world could offer.
She couldn’t breathe and she felt her stomach rising.
… You and me… I can see us dying… ARE WE?
She was going to vomit all over her dress. She could feel it rising. The tears blurred her vision and the lights streaked downwards like watercolor strokes to heaven.
Don’t speak. I know just what you’re saying. So please stop explaining. Don’t tell me cuz it hurts.
Her body began to subtly rack before violently quaking with her fingers basket-weaving over her eyes. She began to choke on the build-up in her throat.
No, no. Don’t speak. I know what you’re thinking. I don’t need your reasons. Don’t tell me cuz it hurts.
He was gone. He placed his hand on her shoulder, but it didn’t feel the same. He was gone. She began to sob, continuing to choke, and gasping for air.
Don’t tell me cuz it hurts... I know what your saying, so please stop explaining.
Clint and Bob took her left and right arms respectively yanking her lithe body into a sitting position.
“No! No!” she shouted, coughing as her tongue seemed to roll back in her mouth. She struggled to swallow it or cough it up but it was choking her.
She was going to die soon, she knew it. But he would be there.
Don’t speak, don’t speak, don’t speak…
He would be the one to save her. Not now, but in the future.
Don’t. I know what your saying, and I don’t need your reasons…
She couldn’t loose him because he had to save her…
* * *
“Timber!” Clint shouted, panicking but trying to remain practical and reach her over the sound of her shrieking.
“I’m choking!” she shouted through coughing, her fingers gripping the tip of her tongue as she tried to be sure it was real. “HELP!!!” she shrieked.
Bob sat back from her for a moment, shocked at the side of her he was seeing.
“Timber, are you okay?” Ben asked, waking up at the sound of her screams, and somehow knowing she was not okay.
He jumped up from where he was sitting on a bean bag chair across the room and hurried over to where she frail girl was rolling around on the carpet clutching her throat.
Bob tackled her to some degree and held her body close to his although she struggled.
“Timber, just relax.” He cooed.
She began to cry and clutched the front of his tee-shirt, overwhelmed by his scent. He rocked her gently and she melted into his body.
“Just relax Tim.” He chuckled lightly. “You’re just really high.”
Timber suddenly pushed sharply at his body, trying to push him away from her.
“I’m going to throw up.” She informed him, only afforded enough time to pull back from him and turn her body.
She vomited all over the front of her dress and the rug, nearly collapsing in a wave of tears into the small puddle she had formed.
“Okay. No more weed for her.” Clint announced.
“Yeah, no shit.” Ben agreed.
“Timber you okay?” Bob asked.
She nodded with difficulty, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand to ensure no vomit on her lips.
“I’m so not cleaning that up.” Clint commented.
Timber stared down at the mess she made and realized that she was powerless in her life.
* * *
“You look… lovely tonight.” Miguel spoke in a low and romancing tone, eyes dancing with wonderment.
Angela turned her face away, smiling, allowing to herself to slip into the beautiful setting of a restaurant downtown on the pier overlooking the full moon and the beautiful night unfolding.
She looked back to his face and he brought it closer, wanting to kiss her, but stopping several paces short. She just stared demurely, lowering her eyes and batting the lashes almost in a playful avoidance of his advances. The truth was that she felt rather confident in herself. She would kiss him that night, but it would have to be the right moment. Not having spent a whole lot of time in the dating scene, she realized that the whole situation unfolding was so new in and of itself. It was like she was starting to date all over again, but with some sort of head start.
Miguel smiled earnestly, exposing all of his teeth and pressed her glass of wine towards her after the waiter had set them down on the table.
“Why do you smile like that?” he asked gently, grinning in his own right.
Angela just shrugged, realizing that he was indeed very cute in a completely different way than Scott.
Her heart froze. At the mention of his name, she couldn’t give herself enough time to feel sad so she promptly placed her glass to her lips and began to swallow in small gulps as not to be noticed.
Miguel continued to speak and she watched his lips move through the window created by her steadily emptying wine glass.
* * *
Dave lay supine on his bed, his chest rising and lowering in a slow, steady motion. Jeanine looked for a place to set her purse down, choosing a remote corner of his cluttered dresser top. She looked over at him, raising her eyebrow suggestively.
Dave sighed.
Jeanine’s expressions darkened. “Dave.” She stated in a warning tone. “You’re going to sleep.”
He grinned and his brown irises floating in pink danced. “I’m just really blazed right now.”
“Uh huh…” she said, placing herself in an akimbo stance. “Whatever Dave.”
“I am!” he defended himself although it took much effort. “I am just so high.” He began to chuckle, wiping his hands down his face. “I am just that high.”
Jeanine sighed begrudgingly realizing that she would not have a chance to have any intelligent and intimate time with him that evening. She threw herself down on the foot of the bed and looked at his placid face as he closed his eyes.
“Sorry baby…” he apologized in a slur. “I’m just really really dizzy right now. I just gotta lay here until I get a little less high.”
She sighed in a near annoyance.
“Come here.” He said, holding one of his arms out. “Come lay with me.”
Jeanine grinned, and crawled up the bed until she was next to him. She curled up against him, laying out straight and intertwining her legs with his. Her back molded into the crook of his body as he rolled onto his side to spoon her.
He kissed the back of her head. “I love you.” He stated, running his hands down her side.
“I love you too Davey.” She smiled, allowing his arm to slip over her body and resting her hand on his.
“… the way she sees it, everything will be okay.” He began to sing from the middle of a song he suddenly had in his head. Eyes closed, he sung in a near whisper into her hair. “She said, everything will be okay. She said, I’ll love you each and everyday. She said, I’ll never ever go away… everything will be okay…”
* * *
Scott had been sitting in that parking lot for a very long time before he removed himself from his vehicle, although he could not force himself to go in. He found himself on the pier, walking along the water by the swanky restaurants, closer to the one he knew she was in with some guy she couldn’t have known and could not have as much history with as she did him.
He lingered in the shadows, scanning the angle of the restaurant he could see from his corner of the window. It was all on incidence that he had a nearly direct shot of the bar, save the line of plant life that separated the upper level of the restaurant from the lower. He spotted the flash of red in her blouse and raised up on the toes of his running shoes to see her teetering just slightly on her chair. He movements were very subtle, yet, knowing her as he did, he could tell that she was considerably drunk.
As she took another sip of wine, the young man she was with leaned closer and kissed her cheek. But this was not the kiss he had greeted her with in a duo, this was a different kind of kiss that could imprint her cheek and possibly erase all of the kisses Scott had ever left. That imposter was taking his girl.
The young man reached out and touched Angela’s knee and she shifted her legs away, drinking a little bit more from a deep wine glass.
Scott snapped, taking off around the strip of buildings in a sprint of blind rage. He made up his mind in that moment—there would be no more debate.
He would get his girl back.
* * *
“Angela…”
Miguel’s voice was a whisper and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting it steady her in her chair. She was drunk already, and the entrée hadn’t even arrived. She had had what must have been five or so glasses of wine, but he hadn’t seemed to notice any palpable change in how she was behaving. With her European background, she could generally handle more alcohol than the average female, but she had forgotten how potent some Spanish wines could be.
Miguel touched her knee, his thumb straying from the rest of his fingers to discover other parts of her skin.
“Angela…”
“Yes?” she feigned alertness, focusing in on his face.
“Angela…” he sighed, running his hand higher on her thigh. “You are so beautiful to me.” He stated wistfully.
She blushed bright red, but did not pull back from his touch that was traveling past her exposed skin to where her skirt hem had been pulled back on her thigh.
“Lay with me tonight.” He whispered, leaning to kiss her.
She froze at his words, but her eyes closed as his lips played against her earlobe.
“I want to kiss you…” he whispered.
“Please…” she moaned, feeling loose from the alcohol.
“You have to answer.” He stated, still whispering but no longer in his hypnotic tone of voice.
“What…” she exhaled as he kept his hand against her leg, traveling to nearly indecent heights.
“Sleep with me tonight… I want to feel your body…” he said softly, brushing back another one of her curls with his bare hand.
She opened her eyes to him. She began to doubt herself. Maybe that was what she needed. She couldn’t stay with Scott anymore. She just did not feel that she could have him as a part of her life anymore. She needed Miguel to take her somewhere different from where she was used to being.
“I will…” she whispered.
She raised her eyes and she saw him coming over Miguel’s shoulder, but it happened in such fast motion that she did not have the time to connect the two factors. She stared at him for a long time, almost awestruck, feeling as if she could suddenly fall asleep in his stormy grey eyes; but the moment soon passed and she was angry.
“Come on Angela.” Scott growled, gripping her arm and pulling her off her chair.
“Pardon me!” Miguel spoke at the top of his voice, slipping off the bar stool and stepping forward.
Angela attempted to yank her arm from his grip but he fumbled for it, jerking her towards him.
”How could you try to do this too me,” he growled. “How could you do this too me, acting like a little slut right here… in front of my face!” he cried out, his eyes filling with tears as his rage subsided and he was left with pain.
Angela’s head stopped floating and she was startlingly grounded. “Scott, stoppit!” she shouted.
A sudden hush slipped like fog over the restaurant as what seemed like everyone was distracted from their meals.
Angela turned to him and placed her hands on his chest to hold him back. Her voice dropped to a consoling whisper. “You cannot do this.” She said softly. “You can’t just come here and do this Scott… I can’t—“ her eyes searched the floor, her hands still against his broad chest, against the softness of his tee-shirt.
“What is the problem here.” Miguel stated, continuing with his firm tone.
“You’re moving in on my fucking girlfriend!” Scott shouted, pointing a finger as he prepared himself to lunge.
“Why Scott, WHY?!” Angela cried out. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”
“Because I still love you and it fucking kills me to see you with someone else!” he shouted.
“No, no, no, NO!” she shouted, beginning to sob. “Just leave!” she cried. “You can’t keep coming around when you want me and then throwing me away Scott I am a human being!” she confronted him, not feeling as if she wanted to deal with him and all he encompassed in her life at that moment.
“We are having a nice evening here.” Miguel spoke in his broken English. He began to speak rapid Spanish to Angela, questioning who this intruder was to her.
She responded, attempting to console him.
Scott turned to pace away for a moment, gripping his hair and yanking hard then returning to her. “I DON’T KNOW!” he interrupted, seeing the maitre-d approaching in a rush, and knowing he had to convince her.
“I fucking love you!” he shouted, tears running down his cheeks. “I gave you my fucking world! I would die for you!”
Angela stopped, closing her eyes in an attempt to slip away from the world.
“I gave you my… my world Angela…” he whimpered, scrubbing furiously at his eyes.
“Just leave!” she screamed. “I don’t need you anymore. I don’t love you anymore!” she cried, sadistically enjoying seeing him this way. She wanted to turn the knife in him.
Scott froze.
“Excuse me,” the maitre-d, a rather petit red-haired woman who was somewhere between the age of his mother and his grandmother, judging by the ball of sinew in her neck.
“Save your breath.” Scott murmured, not able to find his voice. “I’m going.”
Angela stood tall and he brushed past her. She felt a wave of his arm against her skin and she couldn’t catch her breath.
He paused, raising his chin high, his lower lip beginning to quiver as he realized what he had to do. “I know I messed up… but don’t ever doubt that I loved you with all I had.” He stated, not bothering to turn around and give her the satisfaction of seeing his face.
Scott left the restaurant and she heard the front door slam obnoxiously in his wake.
Scott left her standing there and she could not stop staring at where he had once stood.
“Angela! What the hell was that?” Miguel demanded, the strongest and most confident sentence she had ever heard him say in English.
She stood, frozen.
“Angela.” Miguel spoke, standing directly beside her.
He placed his hand on her elbow.
Angela turned to him, raising her eyes to his eyes and exhaling hard. Her face wilted in a begrudging expression of her duty. “I’m so sorry Miguel.” She spoke, but oddly the tears that were garnered in her throat made no move to seek outlet through her eyes.
“It is alright.” He stated. “We shall order? You will take your seat and we will order.” He stated firmly, meaning to guide her by her arm.
Angela shook his touch from her arm. “I’m so sorry, but I cannot stay.” She continued, her eyes unblinking as she appeared to be in a trance.
“Pardon me?” Miguel asked, his voice suddenly sprinkled in panic.
Angela’s lips twisted upward in an insipient smirk. “I have to leave with him.” She stated. “Because I’m his girl, and I always will be.”
“What?” Miguel asked, suddenly angry. “Angela please.”
She turned to him, the first sign indicating that she was even aware of his presence. “I’m sorry.” She stated, emotionless. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t… do this.”
“Angela please,” Miguel began.
“I’m sorry.” She stated firmly. “But I love him. I still love him.”
“Angela…”
She snatched her purse from the bar and walked out of the restaurant.
* * *
And there he was back—back in the parking lot, not sure what he should do. Part of him wanted to go crashing into the restaurant like a jauggernaut and throw her over his shoulder. But his logical self knew that that was not possible. He had to leave her alone. She wanted to be by herself.
Scott began to cry, realizing what his life had become. He lowered his head, but not before a glimpse of red silk as she ran out of the restaurant into the night, billowing everywhere and causing his heart to ache.
He looked away and went with his first half, his better half—the half that would allow him to be happy.
She looked around for a moment, searching desperately with her eyes and praying with her heart that he hadn’t left just yet. He just watched her from inside his disguised vehicle, watching her as if she were inside a snow globe and at any moment he could shake it up and have the world tumble upon her like glitter.
He leaned forward, trying to get a closer look but accidentally laying on the horn with the subsequent and abhorrent honk.
She turned her head and saw him immediately. He turned on his headlights and started the engine as she tentatively approached the passenger’s side. She stood there for a moment and he tried not to look at her. Knowing full and well that he had seen her, Angela knocked softly on the window for him to unlock the door.
“What.” He nearly barked, winding the window down just enough to get a good, unblocked, view of her face.
“I’m coming home with you.” She stated. “Unlock the door.”
He obediently did as she asked, holding his breath as she climbed into the vehicle beside him.
And so they sat for a long moment, the situations that had transpired between them suddenly seeming so poignantly in the foreground. Angela stared at him the whole time, but he could not bring himself to look.
“When did you get this.” She asked.
“What?” his voice was hoarse.
“This car.” She stated.
“Today.” He responded gruffly.
“Are we going to talk about this Scott?” she segued into the topic at hand.
He was silent for a long moment before gently nodding.
Scott put the car into gear and began to drive, gripping the wheel as tightly as he could because he knew if he let go for one second, his hands would start to quiver. She was staring at him and he could feel her eyes intently and burning into the side of his face. Moments passed, giving him reason to keep his eyes trained into the road, and she finally turned her head to face forward, exhaling loudly.
The sound of her voice was grating to him, causing a deep pain in his chest, so Scott flicked on the radio with the sleightest of hand, filling the confined space of the vehicle with the pounding of rap music base-beats.
Angela glared at him, reaching out her hand in an impulsive anger and flicking off the music.
“I was listening to that.” He informed her through barred teeth.
Her eyebrows furrowed with an emotion she could not possible contain. “Well I still love you Scott…” she stammered, and the tears began, glistening down her cheeks. “… I still love you and I need you and why are you doing this to me?” she cried.
He choked.
Angela’s expression lightened. “Please Scott…” she whispered, her chin tipped slightly upwards as she attempted defiance. “I still love you and…”
The incompletion of her sentence left a tense resolution hanging in the air. Hands still gripping the wheel with sweating but white knuckles, Scott inhaled slowly and silently, all signs of this invisible gaining of breath inaudible and unnoticed.
“I still love you.” She whispered, sitting back and content by the tears that turned his eyes from grey to blue.
* * *
“I’m really sorry if I got some puke on you.” Timber started to say, taking on a childlike quality as she watched Bob’s face.
He raised his deep brown eyes to hers, his face in proximity. He just smiled.
Timber leaned back against the counter in the powder room on the first floor of her house. “Everyone thinks I’m gross now.” She stated plainly, allowing her eyes to roam around the upper edge of the walls.
“No one thinks you’re gross.” Bob assured her, continuing to scrub the front of her dress with the hand towel.
“Yes they do.” Timber snapped to alert. “And I puked all over my Juicy Couture… that’s just perfect.” She muttered sarcastically.
Bob snickered. “That comment would only appeal to Clint.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t de-pukify my Juicy Couture so…” she sighed, frustrated.
“Shit happens.” Bob provided. “And I’m sure that it’s machine washable anyways.”
He continued to scrub, grasping the hem of the dress and lifting it to continue working on the brownish-red crust that was beginning to form. Timber’s eyes shifted nervously in realizing that her crotch was exposed to the world within the confines of the powder room.
Without saying, Bob grinned and released her skirt’s hem, flushing slightly red. “Sorry.”
“Yeah…” Timber chuckled.
He kneeled on the marble floor, gripping her hip and drawing her closer to him.
“You’re so tiny…” he grinned. “I could just throw you around.”
Timber giggled, arching her back with her hips pushed forwards towards him. She wanted him to throw her around. “Thanks for… cleaning my puke.” She smiled.
Bob shrugged, grinning. “That’s what best friends are for.” He responded, not bothering to call attention to the fact that Clint had run in the opposite direction at the mere thought of vomit.
“I guess so.” Timber agreed.
“This isn’t really coming out.” He informed her. “You should just change and throw it in the wash.”
Timber just nodded, her vision once again trained towards the ceiling.
“I got all the chunks though.” He added, beaming at how he had maintained his composure for so long.
“Thanks Bob.” She stated, her eyes still trained upwards in a daze.
“No prob.” He pushed off the tile with his hands and rose to his feet, pain searing through his knees. “I gotta go though.” He added. “I promised Carmen that I’d come over.”
Her attention was grasped at this one statement and she looked into his eyes. “Okay.” She stated, attempting to show no signs of jealousy in her face.
“I’ll call you later though…” he trailed off. “Actually like tomorrow.” He amended.
“Yeah,” she started to change the subject, running her fingers back through her hair. “I’m going to just throw my dress in the wash and get some sleep.”
Bob nodded, eyes dancing.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow.” She added.
“Okay.” He stated, pausing for a moment before dropping a little kiss on her cheek.
Timber touched her cheek on reflex, raising her eyes in focus to see the back of his shirt as he left the bathroom to let himself out.
* * *
Scott kept his back to her as he unlocked the side door and opened it to a dark kitchen. He led the way inside, but felt her closely behind him the whole time, attempting to maneuver their way in the dark.
The house beyond the kitchen was dark as well, casting a bluish twilight glow over the entire space, the furniture blackened shadow figures. He hung a sharp left at the archway, and Angela nearly bumped into the wall, flinching at the dark obstruction.
When he turned on the light in his bedroom at the end of the upstairs hallway, it took her eyes a moment to get used to the sudden golden glow. He took a few steps inside before stopping and waiting for her to fully enter then closing the door. She stood for a moment.
He watched her before casually sauntering into the centre of the room. He leapt casually, landing hard on the mattress and jouncing the springs. Laying supine, ankles crossed and fingers laced behind his head with his elbows splayed, he gazed up at her with his soft eyes dancing.
Angela sighed heavily, still clasping her purse straps in her hands. She rocked from one foot to the other for a moment, before finally resolving in situating herself at the end of the bed.
A long moment passed as each silently willed the other to break the ice.
Scott finally sat up and scooted towards the foot of the bed to be next to her.
“You still love me… don’t you?” Angela asked earnestly, the wine allowing her to look straight into his eyes as she beseeched this.
Scott turned his face away, knowing he could not deny her. “You know I do.” He muttered as he wished to God that things could just go back to the way they were.
She swallowed hard, thirsting for his lips, but first she had to know.
“But you slept with my brother.” He growled, suddenly recalling all the feelings that had once run through his body.
He recalled how a ton of bricks had hit his chest when he first heard the news. He recalled how she had acted so innocently, not telling him until he had to walk into the situation himself. He recalled her mistrust—the same mistrust that kept her from letting him in when his heart was on the table, capable of being broken at any given second.
“No Scott…” she began to plea, and it made him sick to hear it.
“You slept with him.” Scott accused, moving away from her; he stood up altogether, suddenly wishing she would leave his house. He wanted her to die so she would never be near him again and he could just let her go.
But as long as she was alive, he could never let her go.
“Scott, please.” Angela whispered, beginning to cry as she was confronted with all that convicted her of wrongdoing. “I didn’t sleep with him, I never would have.”
The thought that he may actually let her go this time sparked a new passion that caused her heart to race.
Scott stood facing her, in front of the windows with the starry night as the background. He stared steadfastly into himself and instead wished himself dead. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he was the real problem.
“Scott… I never would have gone through with it.” She confided, lowering her face, hands folded in her lap in remorse.
He sputtered a snide laugh, turning his back on her. In the golden glow, he was moreso a silhouette than an actual man. He looked out into the night and he wondered how he had come to be in that space in time.
There was such a surreality to the moment that hung stiffly in the air, threatening at any moment to drop and break on the floor. The surreality was him—it was him being there in front of her; it was almost as if who they had been when they had been happy had all been a dream in actuality. He was only real to her right then, when he could tangibly no longer be hers.
“Scott… I don’t know what to say to you.” She admitted, hanging her head like the moon looming huge beyond the gauze draperies.
He shook his head slightly, the only indication that he had been listening at all.
“I never want you to leave me. Ever.” He stated coldly, as if he were turning to stone.
Angela rose from the edge of the bed as if from the reaction of a spring. She gravitated to him, stopping short and preventing her feet from moving. She could not approach him; something in her heart prevented the space between them from being filled by her hasty and careless footsteps.
She nearly choked on a ball of emotion in her throat, releasing in a gasping cough. “I love you.” she whimpered, tears starting down her cheeks.
He turned to her, his head shaking in resistance.
She sat back down, gently, sinking into the doom of a nightmare that would always prevent her from being happy.
When his voice came, it was sonorous and she closed her eyes, holding her breath against the words he could possibly release.
“Did you sleep with that guy?” he asked, his voice so palpable concealing the tumult that stormed within him.
Angela looked up into his eyes, her cheeks mirrored by streams of tears. “No… no Scott. I haven’t been with anyone but you.”
At that, he recoiled, turning his back on her once again, feeling lost and sullen. He had to find his way back to her, but the things he had done made it so difficult.
She took notice of his sudden silence, and it stung her heart as she came to know what it was he was hiding.
“Have…” she stammered, her voice a mere breath. “Have you been with—someone else?” her voice was stronger than before, the truth washing over her like a tidal wave.
His shoulders dropped and he spun slowly, remaining silent. His eyes said everything.
“No.” Angela began to cry. “No… no Scott.” She held her head in her hands, shoulders racking as she sobbed gently.
“Angela I’m so sorry—“ he began to plea, approaching her and dropping to his knees before her. “I am so sorry Angela.” He pressed his nose into her knees, his hands reaching desperately and grasping big chunks of fabric. “Angela please…” he wailed, sobbing into her, breaking down completely in an instability of emotion.
His face contorted and everything inside him unraveled and fell into pieces.
“Angela please!” he wailed, his body racking and throwing her nearly off balance.
“No Scott!” she cried. “No. You— you had sex with someone else! How can I ever look at you again?” she asked, attempting to shove him away from her as he tried with all of her might to struggle into the soft nook of her lap. “You disgust me!” she whimpered, shivering with sobs.
“Angela, please! Please! I am so sorry!” he cried, trying desperately to find his way back to her. He had somehow become so far removed, and without her, he suddenly felt as if he was nothing.
“How many were there?!” she shouted, finally struggling free, raising to her feet definitively and stepping away from him.
He slumped against the bed, his legs tangled on the floor. Face overrun with tears and fully flushed, resistance was suddenly futile.
“How many?!” she cried once more, hunching over at the waist and dramatically hiding her face in anguish.
She suddenly felt hallow, but she had to know.
“Twelve.” He spat, yet the bad taste in his mouth was himself.
Her eyes rolled back as she looked at him. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She muttered, holding herself across the waste with both arms. “I’m going to be sick.” She sobbed.
She fled from the room, wanting to get as far away from him as she could. At that moment, there was nothing he could say to her that would make her forget. He had been with other women; he was no longer hers.
And as her vomit washed the toilet bowl over in dark red, the waters appeared bloody with wine, blurring in her tears. Her life, suddenly off kilter, seemed to wash away with the stain.
* * *
Angela emerged from the bathroom in the hallway on sea-legs, hovering in the doorway and grasping the jamb with white knuckles.
There was a decision to be made: to the right was his bedroom where he would surely be. If she entered that room, she would be with him.
Or she could turn left. She could leave and never return. She could let him go. She could let herself heal.
Finally.
However, the faint chords of the guitar wafting on air to meet her ears pulled at her chest in a magnetic gravity…
Whenever I’m weary from the battles that rage in my head.
She stepped silently and slowly into the sliver of yellow that formed from the open crack in the door, her hand coming to rest midway up the wall.
You make sense of madness when my sanity hangs by a thread…
She gradually closed her eyes, his voice filling her, as she rocked back and forth on her bearings, leaning gently against the wall.
I loose my way but still you seem to understand…
Now and forever… I will be your man.
His tone was hallow and gravely, caught and pin-pricked on the end of certain words as he let emotion slip.
Sometimes I just hold you… too caught up in me to see.
She was now squeezing her eyes shut, the sound of his voice causing a dramatic pain in her chest. He was drawing her into him although there was such a great part of her that wanted to stay clear of him. She wanted to erase that part of her entire being, to get away from him forever for all the pain he had continuously caused her…
I’m holding a fortune that heaven has given to me…
… But love was pain. That she knew. And as long as she loved him she would never cease aching.
I’ll try to show you each and every way I can…
But somehow it was worth it.
Now and forever… I will be your man.
She crept closer into the light, decisively extending her arm and gripping the doorknob.
Now I can rest my worries and always be sure… that I won’t be alone anymore…
The yellow sliver played itself like a fan and the almost orange lighting of his bedroom illuminated her face.
If I’d only known you were there all the time…
All this time…
He continued to play. She slipped into the room with her back on the wall, her eyes never breaking sight with his face. He continued to strum the guitar, his back to her on the farthest end of the bed. His shoulders were hunched into himself, his head nodding slightly and acting as his metronome.
Until the day the ocean doesn’t touch the sand…
Angela melted backwards, her head cocking back and resting along the wall. At that moment, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the other girls, nor the fact that he had called her a whore, nor his resistance despite how much she had proclaimed to him. She didn’t care about the fact that she had given so much to him—even though he had broken her heart.
Now and forever… I will be—
He suddenly stopped playing, his back straightening like a cat becoming aware of someone else’s presence.
Her heart continued to beat abnormally, her breath filling the room with its spattering sound.
Scott turned his head to see her, his eyes melting downward with sadness.
“I thought you left.” He stated gently, his tone cracking.
She breathlessly shook her head as if he were pinning her against the wall.
He turned away, placing the guitar in its case on the floor, hidden on the other side of the bed. Slow and methodical, he still did not look at her as he got to his feet and approached. Standing before her, he stepped closer and her heart nearly exploded. Tentatively, he raised his arm as if he were to touch her, but stopped short.
She threw her arms around his neck and crushed her lips on his, feeling ignited with the familiarity of her long-lost lover. His hands knew every piece of her as they firmly snaked their way down her spine, cupping her backside that felt loose and so near through the silken fabric of her skirt. Her arms encircled his neck and shoulders as she clung to him, mutually maneuvering towards the bed.
They needed this. They both knew at that moment what the only thing that could save them was.
His hands were so incredibly languid as they roved across the skin just under the hem of her blouse. He swung her down and mounted her, slipping over her with a certain warmth that caused her chest to feel hallow and anxious. Her clothing peeled from her like satiny wrapping paper, finding their home in little color-coded piles in the floor. She tore his shirt over his head, breaking her lips from his at that one moment only then to find them again and slip her hands down to fumble with his belt.
“I need you… I need you…” he gasped, as if saying it twice were going to make her believe it any more.
She tugged at the waistband of her slinky panties and drew her knees up to slip them past her ankles then encircle him with her thighs. Shaking his slacks from his ankles, Scott hastily pressed himself against her, begging for a way inside and gradually finding it.
She gasped, clutching her hands on his skin and digging her teeth against his shoulder. His name was whispered into the silent inferno that sucked the walls away from peripheral vision and into the color red. Red was all she saw: red all along the edges of her vision. She sighed and exhaled in a diluted cry and he raised his face to hers, his cheek pressing her forehead in a haphazard, blundering neediness. All logic and reality was torn into a fantasy land that landed the second star from the north.
Fire upon fire yet the oxygen was all used up. She sucked him inside her until he could not plunge any deeper. She ensnared him with her legs, his hips crunching upon hers like a mortar. There was too much too fast but all was turned upside down. All the wrongs became right as he made love to her with all he had.
And when it was finally over, he rolled off of her and lay panting. He was still hard, laying loosely against his lower abdomen, pointing slightly left from his navel. She suddenly saw the light—the light was suddenly shed upon the two of them, laying there beside each other and finally silent. All was finally silent, save the sound of the two breathing. All was quiet and all was calm like the deep side of the ocean after a tumultuous storm. The swelling waves rolled over her chest as she tried to catch her breath. All she had to do was catch her breath.
She finally turned to him, curving to him from her shoulders down to her knees and slipping her hand along his stomach.
He finally looked to her, eyes finally blue. “I need you again.” He whispered.
She pressed herself closer against him, sliding her leg over and across his thighs, preparing to give her body to him again and again.
* * *