Blue

by Ford, Brynn

  “Fine,” the biting frustration in his tone only made me feel worse.

  He pulled his arm free and shifted away from me on the couch, honoring my needs like the gentleman he was, however reluctant. I reached for the remote, intending to turn on some mindless rerun to drown out the uncomfortable silence. Vaughn’s words halted me before I could even press the power button.

  “What is it, Desi? What the hell is going on here? Did I do something?”

  I could hear the worry in his tone and wanted to reassure him, though I didn’t know whether I could.

  “You didn’t do anything, Vaughn. I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

  “So, what? I can’t touch you when you’re tired? I’m not expecting anything, Des, I just want to spend some time with you.”

  I was exasperated, “You are, Vaughn, we’re both here. Can’t we be together without touching?”

  “Of course we can,” he sighed with narrowed eyes, “Never mind.”

  My curiosity forced me to ask but I regretted continuing this conversation the moment the words left my mouth, “What, Vaughn? Just say what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m pissed off, Desi. You’re shutting me out and it fucking kills me. I’m worried you want to end this. Terrified, actually, that you want to end this.”

  “Vaughn,” I spoke softly, but he wouldn’t let me interrupt.

  “I know you’re struggling, babe. I am, too. But how can I help you? How can we help each other if you won’t even talk about her?”

  I could already feel tears prickling behind my eyes at the mere mention of my baby, “I can’t, Vaughn. You know I can’t.”

  “I know, Des, but why? Why can’t you?”

  I couldn't help but feel affronted that he was pushing this. It wasn’t fair of him to ask me why I couldn’t talk about her. That was my decision to make. I turned my body to face him.

  “Because I fucking can’t. Stop pushing me. You have no idea, Vaughn. No idea how hard this is for me.”

  Squaring off with me, he shouted, “Then tell me. For Christ’s sake, Desi, I want to help you but you won’t let me!”

  I was taken aback by the mixture of anger and sadness and hurt in his tone. There was a selfish, irrational part of me that was furious that he thought he had the right to feel what I was feeling, to think that he had the audacity to share in my grief and misery. Those were my emotions to succumb to. They belonged to me in this tragedy and I was entitled to suffer in silence.

  The logical part of me that could’ve let him in was blocked off. It was a broken piece that had been sequestered, quarantined deep within my soul and completely inaccessible. That piece could’ve pulled me from my depression, saved me from myself, but the journey to find it and heal it was too daunting for me. I didn’t want to do it alone and I didn’t want to do it with Vaughn. He didn’t deserve to have go through that with me.

  We stared in our shared frustration. I watched as Vaughn’s eyes softened slowly into a loving gaze.

  “I love you, babe. I just want to help you,” he leaned forward ever so slightly that I nearly missed it, the wanting in his eyes, the desperation to connect.

  His attention focused on my lips. He was going to kiss me and I just couldn’t let him. I felt sick that I couldn’t give him that, I couldn’t love him, care for him, be the wife he married and loved unconditionally. I just couldn’t.

  I stood suddenly, “I need to go for a run.”

  He looked up at me, shocked, surprised, hurt, lost.

  I nearly ran to the bedroom to get away, quickly pulling on a cropped sweater with long sleeves to cover my black sports bra and didn’t bother to change out of my black yoga pants. I slipped on my sneakers just as he appeared in the doorway.

  He was still fighting for me.

  Always fighting.

  Vaughn was far too good of a man for me and I didn’t deserve him.

  “You’re really scaring me, Des. I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me.”

  “I can’t, Vaughn, I can’t,” it wasn’t a proud moment for me and it made me feel like scum, but my reflex was to throw it back at him, “You’re the one who wants to talk. You’re pushing it. Maybe I’d be more inclined if you’d shut up about it and let me process.”

  He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest, “Really? You’re putting this shit on me now?”

  “Yes,” I snapped, double knotting the ties on my sneakers.

  I stood, pushing past him to grab my keys from the entry table next to the door.

  My hand was on the front door knob, anxious to get out of there as fast as I could, when Vaughn’s hand slapped flat against the door holding it shut. He was at my side, chest rising and falling, his eyes settling on mine with such intensity it made me want to crumble for him, to fall to my knees in front of him and beg for him to keep loving me despite how horrible I was.

  I almost wanted him to drag me back inside the apartment.

  I almost wanted him to hurt me, to fight with me, to make me feel something, anything at all.

  I almost wanted him to make love to me.

  But then he spoke words I just couldn’t stand to hear and I had to run.

  “We both lost a child, Desi. We both lost Lucy. You don’t get to pretend you’re the only person who’s grieving. You’re hurting me more than you know by shutting me out.”

  I stared at his hand on the door, “Move your hand, Vaughn.”

  “Do you really need to run away from me that badly?”

  “Vaughn, please. Please don’t do this now."

  Anxious energy was building from my gut, exploding through my fingertips. I tapped my hands nervously at my sides, itching to run to calm my misfiring nerves. I tried to convince him as much as myself that everything was okay, though I didn’t look at him.

  I couldn’t.

  “Vaughn, I love you. We’re fine. Everything is fine. I just really need to go for now. Please. Please, Vaughn.”

  His hand dropped abruptly from the door with a grunt of agitation. I felt the air leave him in dejected sadness as the guilt washed over me again. I pulled the door open and bolted for the staircase at the end of the hall, running from my issues and heartaches as fast as I could, though I knew they would find me again soon.

  They always did.

  * * * * *

  The crisp fall air chilled me but filled my lungs with cold replenishment. I relished the biting sensation of the icy breeze against my skin, the sting of it reminding me that I was still alive, still living and breathing though I felt like the best parts of me had died along with Lucy.

  In my desperation to get away from Vaughn, I’d took off on a run down the city streets. Running was what I did to clear my head, but a clear head wasn’t what I needed right now. I needed distraction, sensation, something that would fill the empty spaces of my brain before my grief seeped in and took over.

  The sidewalks were buzzing with the excitement of the holiday. Though it was the middle of the week, it didn’t stop the party people of the city from putting on their costumes and heading out to any one of the dozens of Halloween parties going on at the local bars and night clubs. I’d had a Halloween costume planned before, when I thought I would still have a round belly. I had planned to paint my bare stomach orange and black to look like a basketball and Vaughn was going to be a player. But now that my belly and baby were gone, it made me sick to think of dressing up at all.

  Vaughn had asked me to go out with him tonight. He wanted to dress up in silly costumes and go to a party his brother-in-law slash boss, Milo, had invited him to downtown. I had declined, wanting to curl up in a ball and stay at home. Thinking about it made me feel that much worse about leaving the house to run away from him.

  The distraction of people milling about the sidewalks, forcing me to weave in and out and around as I ran, overwhelmed my senses. That kind of sensory overload excited me, fueled me with passion for adventure and discovery. It sparked adrenaline, encouraging me to run harder,
faster.

  I ran and ran until my lungs burned and my muscles screamed at me to stop. The pain of it slowly took hold of me, pushing my problems and worries and sadness from my mind to make room for the physical signals that told me to rest.

  I ran a couple more blocks before the crowds were too thick for me to easily skirt by, coming upon the more populated nightlife area. I took a turn around a corner where the streets weren’t so crowded and ran another block in an unfamiliar direction. Sense told me to get back to the crowds, not to run down empty, previously unexplored sidewalks alone, but I wasn’t capable of caring what my sensibilities told me in my depression and my aching need to keep moving.

  The look on Vaughn’s face when I ran from him popped into memory, painful and unwanted. Without thinking, I squeezed my eyes shut tight in response, just for a moment, but it was a moment too long. I stopped abruptly, not by choice, but because I ran directly into some guy who’d stepped out in front of me on the sidewalk while staring down at his phone screen. He reached out at the moment of impact, grabbing me firmly just above both elbows and twisted me to keep me upright before I would’ve stumbled and fallen over his black, polished dress shoes. His cell phone crashed to the sidewalk beside us as I lifted my head to glare at the man who caught me.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” the man holding me said, “Are you okay?”

  I looked up into crystal blue eyes.

  “I’m fine. You need to watch where you’re going,” I said hypocritically, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of me.

  “Yeah, sorry, that was all me,” he agreed, bending to retrieve his cell phone from the sidewalk, “I was texting and walking. Dangerous combo, apparently. You sure you’re okay?”

  I wasn’t happy but I gave a small smile out of politeness anyway, “Yeah. No worries, it’s fine,” I turned to walk away, wanting to catch my breath before taking off again.

  “Hey,” he called after me, “Let me buy you a drink to make up for my complete lack of spatial awareness.”

  I don’t know why I didn’t just ignore him and keep moving. For some reason I turned back around, though I continued to move, taking small backward steps.

  I held up my left hand, pointing at the wedding band around my ring finger, “Thanks, but I’m married.”

  He chuckled, flashing me a dazzling smile. The sharp black suit he wore really made his baby blue eyes pop.

  He put up his hands in surrender, “Totally innocent, I promise. It’s a peace offering in apology for tackling you unintentionally.”

  “That’s really nice of you, but I’m good,” I turned back around to walk away and nearly slammed into an oddly placed lamppost.

  “Fuck!” I halted just in time and let out a breath.

  The man snickered from somewhere behind me, “Okay, that definitely wasn’t my fault. I’ll still buy you that drink, though.”

  I turned, flashing a dirty look, ready to tell this guy off. But he was standing there looking at me as if he knew me, as if he were an old friend that wanted to sit with me and listen to my stories and woes.

  I should keep walking.

  “I’m married. I’m not some chick you’re gonna pick up and take home tonight.”

  His brow furrowed in consideration, “I’m not interested in picking up some chick. You just seem like you could use a drink and I’m heading in to get one for myself anyway, so…” he trailed off, turning sideways and gesturing toward two large, wooden doors just behind him.

  There was a sign above the double doors. It was black with gold raised lettering in an artistic script, stretched all the way across the large doorframe that was set back in a dimly lit recess. A couple of industrial light fixtures hung above the sign, the only illumination in the brick walled alcove.

  “Black Ties? Is this a bar?” there were no windows to see inside.

  “There’s a bar in it,” he said cryptically, then softened, sensing my hesitation, “It’s a private club, but there are lots of people inside. I swear I’m not some creep trying to lure you down a dark alley,” he slipped his hands inside his pockets and smiled genuinely from his eyes, putting me at ease.

  I gave him the side eye with a smirk, “That’s exactly what a creep would say to try and convince a girl to follow him down a dark alley.”

  “Fair point,” his smile grew as he watched my face discerningly.

  The conversation seemed to be giving me the distraction I was seeking without running myself to the point of complete exhaustion. I reasoned with myself, whether accurate or not, that this was a good thing.

  “I guess could use a drink.”

  “Great,” he didn’t wait for me to change my mind, just stepped toward the heavy doors and pulled, holding one open for me, “Let’s drink.”

  I walked inside and immediately felt eyes on me. I skirted around groups of people and made my way to perch on a swivel stool at the far end of the bar. I could see everyone that way. Unfortunately, that meant they could all see me, too. I felt fantastically underdressed in my workout clothes. Everyone else looked spectacular, dressed to impress, just like the stranger who was about to buy me a drink. I didn’t really feel self-conscious about it, I just felt like I was crashing a wedding or something.

  The bar was dimly lit and had a strange but pleasant energy that I couldn’t quite place. It was an oxymoron of decor, mixing an industrial, rustic sort of appeal with a sleek modern design. It was a balance of wood and metal, old and new, blacks and greys with splashes of purple that hinted at an establishment of royalty.

  The man in the black suit was held up momentarily as someone stopped him in greeting. He seemed polite enough as I watched their brief interaction before he made his way over to where I sat. People were milling about, having conversations with each other that seemed rather intense. There was a constantly shifting dynamic in the room as people entered and exited through a set of tall doors in the back that I hadn’t immediately noticed. It seemed odd that there was a bouncer stationed there.

  Black Suit appeared at my side and motioned toward the bar stool next to mine, “Do you mind if I sit?”

  “You should definitely sit, you’re paying for my drink.”

  He sat next to me and flashed me a grin, “You’re refreshing.”

  I didn’t know what to make of that.

  Lifting a hand to the bartender, he waved him over. Oddly, the bartender dropped what he was doing and rushed over mid-order to serve him.

  “What can I get you, Sir?” the bartender asked.

  Black Suit ordered some fancy glass of red wine for himself, then motioned for me to order.

  “I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

  “Really?” Black Suit asked with a smile.

  I nodded, “Nothing fancy for me.”

  “I take it you’re a very easy-going person, albeit clumsy.”

  “I’m not clumsy, I’m highly coordinated. Usually. I’m a yoga instructor, actually.”

  “You don’t say,” he nodded toward my attire with a smirk.

  “I wasn’t exactly prepared for a black tie event tonight.”

  In a long overdue show of social niceties, Black Suit offered his hand, “I’m Law, by the way.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him, “Nice to meet you, Law,” I didn’t offer my name because I wasn’t sure I wanted to, particularly if he wasn’t going to tell me his real name.

  What the hell kind of name is Law, anyway?

  The bartender brought our drinks and the man who mysteriously called himself Law took a sip of his wine.

  “So what’s a married woman doing out alone this time of night on Halloween? Where’s your husband? Don’t you know there’s all kinds of creeps and weirdos out tonight?” he smiled at me over the rim of his glass.

  “Ha ha. He’s at home. I needed some space,” I was surprised the words came out so easily.

  He nodded, “Sure. Everyone needs their space sometimes. Commitment isn’t always easy.”

  I turned to look at him,
suddenly wary about his intentions, “Are you? Married, I mean.”

  “No,” he shook his head, “My lifestyle isn’t well suited for a lifetime commitment.”

  “Hmm,” I was curious, but wasn’t going to press a stranger for details about their love life.

  His bright smile was a spotlight in the dim bar, “That’s very polite of you not to pry when your curiosity is screaming so loud.”

  I was at a loss for words.

  “I’m sensing you were out wandering in search of a distraction.”

  I replied, giving him intentional eye contact with a closed for business stare, “You sense correctly. But I’m not looking for the kind of distraction you have to offer.”

  “Oh?” he said with a smirk, turning his body on the bar stool to face me directly, “What kind of distraction do you think I’m offering?”

  “Come on, you bought me a drink and you’re flirting with me shamelessly. I know a hook-up invite when I see one. I’ve had plenty.”

  “I bet you have,” he took a drink, then conceded, “Fair enough. All signs point to me trying to get in your pants.”

  I smiled kindly and sipped my free drink.

  “Don’t get me wrong. If you weren’t married and you were willing to agree to my terms, I’d be thrilled take you downstairs with me. But I don’t think you’re the kind of girl to cheat and I’m not the kind of guy to disrespect a married man by fucking his wife.”

  Whoa.

  I should have left right then, but instead I continued the conversation, steering it away from the topic of cheating as it felt wrong to even talk about it.

  “What’s downstairs?”

  “Members only.”

  “And what do ‘members only’ do downstairs?”

  He smiled knowingly, “Members. Only.”

  I drank my beer from the bottle, returning the smile, “Secrets and lies. I’m onto you, buddy. That’ll only get you into trouble.”

  He laughed, leaning toward me, “I never get into trouble. I’m the Law.”

  It was my turn to laugh then. He watched me finish my drink, studying my face with discernment. I could feel him trying to figure me out and it actually didn’t bother me all that much.