She throws yet another pillow at him; he dodges, and playfully sticks his tongue out at her.
“You are such a five-year-old,” she points out.
“Hah hah, that's where you’re wrong baby, I’m more like four.”
“You could be right!” she concedes.
They both laugh.
“So, I was thinking maybe we should hit up that spot on the lower eastside for breakfast.”
“Where, Milo’s?”
“Yeah, I know how much you like that place,” he bites his lip,” Ok, I am in the shower. How about joining me?”
As tempting as his offer is she declines.
She watches him as he walks towards the bathroom, then for no reason apparent to her, she starts smiling. Sighing, she rolls back in bed feeling safe and at peace. With the serenity of being at Val’s place taking full occupancy of her thoughts, last night’s blow to her reality was nowhere in her mind.
Chapter 2
Earlier that morning as Valde slept, memories and thoughts kept her lying awake sobbing in his arms on this early and somber Tuesday morning. Looking out into the distance through his thinly veiled windows at the ChryslerBuilding she asked herself several times why couldn’t things have turned out differently. Feeling as if with dignity in one hand and disappointment in the other she has been left no choice but to leave what she mistook for happiness behind, she sighs deeply. She quietly and defiantly fights the thoughts shrieking about her mind, hoping for a moment of piece and if she is lucky some sleep.
Phillip Betruger, thirty-seven years old, is an attractive and charming investment banker she met back in March. To say the connection between the two was instant would be putting it mildly. On the other hand to describe their initial encounter as magical and ‘meant to be’ would be a bit dramatic instead it can simply and accurately be described as sexy. She was waiting for her friend, Jessica, at Cristobal’s, a wonderful Spanish restaurant with truly sumptuous meals down on Spring Street. Jessica had sent her a text message saying that she would be fifteen minutes late. That was some twenty odd minutes ago. The handsome stranger sitting at the table adjacent to hers didn’t appear to be focused on the business meeting he was supposedly having. Instead, he made a point of flirtatiously smiling and staring at her. Although she was no stranger to being hit on she found his attempt flattering. She then reciprocated in her coy and come hither manner, a technique of hers for which she needed no practice. She has had more than ample test subjects since first discovering its bewitching effect on her math teacher, Mr. Lehrer, at the overpriced girls-only private high school on the Upper West side that her parents chose for her. The bashful looking at him then away, demurely biting her lips and twiddling strands of her blonde locks. The dilated pupils, the crossing and uncrossing of her legs at calculated instances, and then the deal breaker, her smile. My god, that smile of hers could stop the most ferocious beast and make it simmer to the temperament of a harmless house cat. Here again that devilishly bewitching smile of hers is about to do just that.
She noticed the waiter eagerly make his way from this stranger’s table to hers. In his hand he carried with him what seemed to be a piece of paper.
“Ma’am the fine gentleman at the next table instructed me to hand you this note.”
“Thank you.” She replied then again turns towards the stranger.
“He instructed me to wait for your response,” informed the dutiful waiter.
She unfolded his note, within was an interactive message that made her smile. Its content read:
“Hi, my name is Phillip, do pardon my intrusion, yes I know this is a bit junior high if not wholly puerile but circle yes if you will go out with me or no if you will at least accept a drink.”
Smiling at him, she fumbled for her pocket book, going through its contents she silently despaired, there was no pen. Oh wait, there was her eyeliner, she then proceeded with her response.
Within a minute he politely excused himself from his party and got up to approach her table.
The distance between Brittany’s and Phillip’s tables was no more than thirty seconds and during this time Brittany found herself trying to control her breathing. As the seconds counted down and their proximity lessened, she found herself with knots in her stomach and what could possibly be palpitations. She began to think that this was no time to be feeling ill. She could not possibly be coming down with anything, for she was fine up to a minute ago. Her thoughts race, could it be hunger? No, it couldn't be that for she purposely had half of a bagel just before leaving her office in anticipation of Jessica's habitual tardiness. She refused to accredit the symptoms of her faux illness to its true source. Instead, she fought to maintain her usual composure. Her purported coolness was to be a weak attempt for seconds later it was quickly and effortlessly broken down by the sound of his voice.
“Hello again, Miss?”
“Brittany.” Nervously she repeats, “Brittany, its Brittany.”
“Hi, I am Phillip Betruger,” he introduced himself with the flare of a man's whose reputation preceded him.
“I am very pleased to meet you Brittany.”
That is how they began. Their romance blossomed quickly, and Brittany surrendered herself wholly to the fancy that she was indeed in love and so was he. Not since Valde did she allow herself this liberty. After having undergone scores of dates with self-absorbed men, who wore their resumes on their sleeves and thought their respective pedigrees license to be boring, Brittany decided that Philip could indeed be the one. Not only did he meet her criteria for a potential mate but more importantly he made her laugh as he came pre-packaged with a delectable sense of humor and a knack for surprises. One such surprise came a few weeks and several dinners later, “Darling, what are your plans this weekend?” he asked.
“I don't have any,” she responded, “So I guess I am spending it with you.”
“Don’t you find this weather a bit drab?” he asked her smiling, “Pack a bathing suit on Friday. Let’s get out of here this weekend.”
“Where will we go?”
“I hear the weather in the Caribbean is great at this time of the year”, he replied smiling as his right hand alighted from his jacket with two first class tickets. “Sweetheart you may actually leave the bikini as I promise you won’t need one.”
The weekend in Negril was wonderful. She had been to Jamaica several times before, more than once with Valde and Alex on a few of their weekend smoking expeditions, but she couldn’t remember having such a great time. On this trip everything she experienced was heightened, the scents of the island, the warmth of the tropics and the sensation of the island’s clear blue water on her skin. Each moment with Philip held an orgasmic quality. Not being under the influence of Valde and Phillips drug of choice must have helped, she thought, however Phillip was undoubtedly the variable that made a difference.
It was from that point on that their romance with whirlwind-like compulsion evolved into an actual relationship. Never was she treated nor made to feel like a kept woman. They were a real couple; they did real couple things such as dinner parties and weekend trips with other couples. It didn’t matter whether they were spending the night at his place or hers, for that line became a blur, each apartment was considered their apartment and were referred to by both as being their home. They would lie in bed late at night sharing what they hoped to accomplish both individually and as a couple. Together they even had a five year plan.
Along with encountering and overcoming the growing pains of being in a committed relationship, Brittany felt as if she too was growing. It could be said that their being together made her more mature, the twelve year age difference between the two took its effect. It was a change that she liked. It was a time in her life that she was deeply enjoying. She felt like a young woman who had truly grown from socks to stockings, readily leaving girlish things behind, she beamed thrilled with her development. It also could be said that her constant glow could have been from all the great sex s
he was having. In retrospect she might have been blind to the obvious signs which she should have seen. Then again how obvious were those supposed signs if she really couldn’t see them? Word around town was that he was a divorcee. Whenever he had to spend a weekend in Connecticut she had no reason to doubt that he was merely visiting his family, and by family she mistook that to mean his parents. She had always been anxious of meeting the parents and did not want to pressure him into making such an introduction so she avoided taking any of their numerous conversations there. His close friends, whom she met, spent time with, and grew close to, never hinted to her that she was only the flavor of the season, nor did they treat her in any manner other than warm and friendly. So in retrospect the proverbial signs were as big a farce as their relationship was for there weren’t any. It is as if he was a master illusionist and she his doting subject. The smokes and mirrors were well hidden for never did she detect any, with perception being reality, she had absolutely no reason to doubt what they had, even if it was too good to be true.
Chapter 3
With much zest Valde made his way to the bathroom. Still a little sore from his workout, he does one more stretch and holds it for the duration of three deep breaths. While testing the temperature of the water pouring from the pipe into his shower, he gently rubs what feels like a knot in his shoulder. Despite having called his assistant to inform her of his absence today and being a little remorseful for again blowing off an important client, the same gentleman twice within one week, he is very much looking forward to spending the greater part of his day with Brittany.
As a result of his tweaking the perfect balance of hot and cold water is achieved for his shower and the bathroom quickly becomes steamy. Valde, feeling a bit playful, draws a funny face on his mirror. He looks at his distorted reflection then his impromptu artwork which was now quickly streaking. “Oh well,” he thinks to himself, “there goes the promising art career!” He then reopens his shower door and jumps in.
Earlier that morning Valde woke up to find him and Brittany interlocked in a tight embrace. On her face was the sweetest smile, the way her lips curled caused her dimples to show. In that moment memories of when it was him and her came gushing in. Although not an emotional dwarf he quickly snapped out of it for he refuses to go down that path once more. However for a moment there his self restraint grew thin and he couldn’t help looking at her. Her now auburn hair, which was originally blonde, was ruffled with some falling gently on her camisole. He loosened himself from her, kissed her gently on her forehead. She purred then turned even more towards him. He took a whiff of her hair then whispers, “Good morning, baby.” He then quietly slid out of bed while trying his best not to awake her knowing that it was best that he left that bed when he did, for unlike her, the wiles of her power of seduction know no slumber.
If the nighttime can be considered Valde’s playtime, then the morning was a period of reflection and taking stock of what was going on mentally, emotionally and at times spiritually with him. Never having to be in his office before eleven and with the uncanny inability to sleep beyond sunrise, except for his occasional burnout, his daily ritual begins at 6:35 am.
With his longstanding issue of disliking the public nature of gyms in mind, within days of moving in he visited the nearest athletic goods store. There he purchased exercise equipment which was on par with that at any high-end sports club and more importantly, they blended nicely with the soothing theme that he was going for. This morning’s ritual comprised of a two and a half mile run and then whatever weight training routine prepared for him by Imran, his personal trainer. He refuses to actually work out with Imran, whose involvement in Valde's training was more in the capacity of advisor than sparring partner. Valde would have it no other way for he believed that a part of his training must consist of being able to truly push mentally as well as physically. To exercise full mental prowess he believes he ought to be able to dig deep within and continue even when his willpower is waning. In his solitary workouts he believed himself to be doing so. He prided himself on being diligent, by ignoring the desire to stop, and sticking to it you see results and he truly believes this. He enjoys the sense of achieving and surpassing set goals so early in the day and especially loves this time of solitude to think. This morning at the beginning of his run, he found himself trying to control his breathing. As soon as he managed this his thoughts literally ran away with him. “Am I happy?” he begins. “I am doing pretty well, I make far too much money, more than I could comfortably admit to, my portfolio is a robust one with very sexy gains despite the shitty state of the market right now, and to the best of my knowledge I am healthy. Although this frigging cough won’t go away, besides that I am sure I am doing well. Note to self go see Dr. Ross. Then again what the hell for? I am fine. So with all this, why am I not happy? I have a pretty good social life, a few fake friends. Everyone needs some of those, they keep things interesting. Most importantly I have some genuine people in my corner and a girlfriend, correction an ex-girlfriend who still loves me or so she believes. I should go to Australia. Happiness, is it as elusive for everyone else as it is for me? Stupid question, All I have to do is walk into any bookstore. Happiness is a multimillion if not billion dollar industry with a plethora of published self servicing quick fixes. Is it that I am unhappy or am I just plain unsatisfied? Where satisfaction is sans, the soul remains unsettled, and god knows I am unsettled. Eureka, could that be it? By jolly I think I am onto something here. Why is my soul unsettled? What’s missing? No, really what is missing?
I mean there are a few girls that I have satisfy my urges willingly but for some reason these days it just doesn’t seem like it’s enough. Is that what’s missing? No seriously, is that what I need? A meaningful relationship with someone I truly care about. Might be but that never works out for me. Eventually I drive her crazy and the last thing I need right now is another psycho in my life. I have enough on my conscience; don’t need another reason to go to confession. Did enough of that and I am not even Catholic. Besides if I need a connection that’s what Brittany is for. I won’t say that our situation is the healthiest but it works as well as it can for both of us. Why isn’t there more between me and her? She is a great girl, I care very much about her the person and her many talents. She is as talented as she is beautiful. Whoops, pay attention and control your running Valde. Damn, I almost went flying off the treadmill. See what she does to me. It takes a great deal of control for me to sleep in the same bed with her and not go recklessly reopening the flood gates of the past.
Why do I like flirting with temptation? I can’t help it when temptation is so intelligent and looks so great in and out of a skirt. Right now is not the best time to rekindle that flame, not that it was ever extinguished by either of us. She is going through this thing and despite my propensity for being an asshole it just wouldn’t sit well with me if I took any kind of advantage of her. Still, it’s as my grandmother always said ‘Ole fire stick ketch quick’. Old Jamaicans have the coolest sayings. There is wisdom there though; I have to handle Brittany delicately. We have been here before. Besides, I feel there is something she isn’t telling me. I am quite sure there is more to the story of her and Phillip. Brittany has been in love before and Brittany has had terrible breakups before, but this is the worse I have seen her react to some dude. It’s not like her to let herself get got like that. There is something else there, I can feel it in my gut and I am gonna get it out of her.”
“I should go see my Mom. I’ll go by the house on Sunday and have dinner with her. I am the worse son; luckily she will disagree. Yep, there goes one more honest connection that I have recently done little to foster. I really should go down under. I could use the vacation. Who am I fooling, it’s to see Joanna. What’s the plan there though, just show up in Sydney and ring her doorbell. It’s been over a year since she broke up with me and I haven’t heard from her for quite some time, what makes me think that she even wants to see me right now? She hasn’t returned
any of my recent calls. She could be away. No phones, no email, maybe she is just too busy. Yes, that could be it, she was always too busy. When we were together she found it hard to stand still. There is so much left unspoken between us. Do I need closure? No, I don’t think so. It’s more like we both need clarification. I know she still loves me. Whenever we do speak months later she still breaks down crying, I can’t blame her for not wanting to speak with me. Then again, I could be fooling myself. Maybe she found someone. Don’t need her past interfering with her future. Especially when her past was as torrid as it was with me. When it was good it was really good but when it was bad I was downright ugly. I regret ever being so cold and difficult at times to her, was real stupid of me to have done so, even more stupid to have thought that she wouldn’t have somehow put a stop to it. Can’t blame her for leaving, but did she have to go all the way to Australia?
They say that acceptance is the first step in the healing process. I don’t know who they are but I suppose they are right. So I hereby accept to myself that I am not over her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. Whoa! I am detecting a pattern here. I was never over Brittany or Kimberly or Joanna. Is there something wrong with me? Why am I so adamant about not letting go? With Joanna I guess my reason for holding on is borne from a combination of regret and the truest fact that I really do love her. Now Brittany that’s another story, we were friends before and we are still enjoying our friendship after. When it’s real, sometimes you just have to let love be, it always works itself out. Still I am left to wonder, was Joanna my last hope at salvation. When I was with her, she brought out what I would like to believe was the best in me. There was also the sub-product of cold hearted bastard of course, and I won’t make any excuses for my behavior where that’s concerned, however she did see me for whom I was and hoped for nothing but that I be happy. That was golden. Stupid prick, I had to go fuck it all up. Stupid bastard! So here I am twenty-nine years old, financially secure, emotionally disconnected, and romantically unstable. Or is it emotionally unstable and romantically disconnected? Whatever it is, these issues are there. I accept them. Now it’s a matter of what do I do about them?”
Something More Page 2
