by Ally Sky
“What can I possibly want, Talia?” she asks earnestly. “For you to be happy? For you to be all right? You ran off to London. You and Danny are pretending everything is wonderful—”
Danny cuts her off mid-sentence. “Pretending?” He’s stunned.
John loosens his grip on my hand and gets up from the table. He won’t stay to witness a Blum family explosion. He goes out to the patio. Danny still looks shocked.
“You know what I mean.” My mother looks at him, trying to entice him to join the dark side. “We both know it’s just a matter of time before—”
“A matter of time before what?” He sounds livid.
“You know, until Talia starts acting like herself again. Have you thought of what you’ll do then? She’s not taking her pills, do you know what could happen?” She stares at Danny.
What is she doing? Trying to convince Danny to send me home?
“Come on, Mom, you’re really overreacting,” he rebukes her.
“I’m not overreacting. You can carry on thinking everything is wonderful, but we both know that can change tomorrow.”
She turns to me with a piercing look.
“Really, Talia, I thought you’d come to London for a holiday, make some decisions, and then to come home and do something with your life.”
“What are you talking about?” I raise my voice. Blood is coursing and bubbling through my veins. My body is shaking with frustration and anger.
“You’re not a little girl anymore! Do you know that Rosenstein’s daughter is already finishing her M.A.? And Klein’s daughter is getting married in two weeks? And you’re running around in London, acting like an irresponsible teenager. Haven’t you had enough? Maybe you should start doing something useful with yourself.” She looks upset and disappointed.
“Something useful? I’m doing something very useful! I’m staying as far away from you as possible! And I’m happy!” I shout.
“Happy?” She’s exasperated. “Do me a favor, we’re familiar with your ‘happy,’ it’s usually a reason to start worrying.”
“You’re unreal! Nothing I do is good enough for you!” I yell.
My mother turns to look at Danny. “Do you see what I mean? Talia’s reverting to her old behavior.”
“Don’t talk about me! Do you hear me? You have no right!” I point my finger at her, my heart pounding.
She looks at me with burning eyes.
“I am your mother! And I will tell you whatever I want.And if I think that you’re wasting your life, and that you’re wasting your and Danny’s precious time until the next time you break down, then that’s what I’ll tell you!”
“That’s it!” I get up from the table in a fury. I shove the chair back so wildly that it crashes back noisily. “I’ve had it up to here with you!” I raise my hand above my head. “It’s a shame you came because nobody wants to hear what you have to say. As far as I’m concerned, you can go to hell!” I holler. Then I spin around in anger, breathing quickly, and go down to the basement without anyone stopping me.
I crash down onto the open sofa and lift my knees to my chest. My entire body shakes, until the tears start falling.
I can’t stop them. They pour down in waves, drawing terrible noises out of me. The old scars open up. I’m a failure. It doesn’t matter what I do, it’s never good enough. And more than anything, I miss my father. It never mattered to him what I did; I always knew he loved me. But he’s gone and has left me to deal with that witch, who came all the way to London to hurt me.
I lie cocooned in the blanket for hours, sobbing tears of longing and rejection. All I want is a hug. For someone to embrace me and to tell me I’m not as bad as my mother thinks, not as bad as I think. All I want is the embrace of the only man who can take this pain away.
I try, unsuccessfully, to stem the flood of tears on the way to the white, familiar door. When I left, Danny’s house was dark, although I really don’t care if someone saw me leave. I don’t even know if Ben is at home.
It’s Saturday, ten p.m. I don’t even know if he’s in London.
God, please let him be at home and please let him invite me in. All I want is a hug and to surround myself with his scent.
As I stand before the door, I make one last attempt to stop the tears. But the scorching words keep coming back to me again and again.
You’re not doing anything with yourself…wasting your time…pretending…it’s only a matter of time…
I reach out and knock twice softly.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come. It’s not what he wants from me. The last thing he needs is my problems.
I see the door handle going down and the door opens. The welcoming smile on my man’s face disappears as soon as he sees me.
“Oh, shit! What happened?”
Without hesitation, he pulls me inside, his strong arms embracing me comfortingly as he closes the door behind him. Being close to him just brings on more tears.
“Talia, what happened?” He’s distressed by the weeping creature in his arms. “You look like you’ve been crying for hours.”
“My mother…” I manage to get out exactly two words between my sobs.
“Oh, Talia…” He speaks softly, holding me close to him as he rocks me gently. “Shhh…”
“I didn’t know where to go,” I sob. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can always come here,” he answers soothingly, and his words are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard. I can always come to him.
His embrace is warm and tender. “Shhh…”
The body-wracking sobs calm down eventually to a soft crying.
“Let’s make you a cup of coffee and calm you down.” He strokes my hair and I succumb to his touch.
“I need a cigarette,” I whisper apologetically.
“Do you want to go out to the patio?”
“Yes,” I answer and look up for the first time to see a comforting smile and beloved green eyes.
“I’ll bring you your coffee outside. And stop crying!” His smile grows wider and I finally manage a weak smile in return. I’m in his house. I am safe here, and protected from the world.
I slowly free myself from his embrace and stumble outside, feeling weak. I allow myself to sink into the small sofa, light up a cigarette, and take a deep breath.
He let me in. I can always come to him.
“Your coffee, you crybaby.” He smiles at me and I smile back. I really am a crybaby, and he knows it. I take the coffee from him and he sits on the sofa, turning toward me. His hand goes back to stroking my wild curls.
“My hair is a mess…” I disheveled and puffy.
“Your hair is wonderful.” He doesn’t take his eyes off my brown curls. “Now can you explain to me what happened?”
“My mother,” I utter the word. “She finally said everything she had to say to me. It was painful.”
“Painful?” he repeats.
“Yes, no matter what I do, I’ll always be a failure. My work, my job, nothing is good enough.”
“Your job?” he questions.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Do you want me to exchange a few words with her and tell her what a wonderful job you’re doing?” he offers.
“Never. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Talia, why do you allow her to affect you like this? Don’t you like your life?”
“I love my life,” I say quietly, taking another sip of coffee.
What’s there not to love? I write, I paint, I have a perfect job, and I have him.
“Well then, what difference does it make what she thinks?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know why I care.”
“You have to stop trying to please everyone. If your mum doesn’t want to see what an amazing daughter she has, it’s her problem.” His hand plays with my hair. He told me I’m amazing—again.
“I know,” I reply. That’s exactly what I do. I try to please everyone. “She can
be so cruel. I’m really sorry for showing up like this.” I look down at the cup of coffee I’m holding. “I just wanted…”
I stop myself. I just wanted a hug. And I just wanted to see him. And there’s no way I’m going to tell him that. I extinguish my cigarette in the ashtray and look at him, at a loss.
What happens now? He calmed me down and I must look like a scraggly, stray cat. If he tells me to go home, I’ll completely understand.
Ben looks at me grinning. “Are you staying?”
No doubt he’s definitely the most amazing man in the world.
“Do you want me to stay?” I ask, still not believing he isn’t sending me away.
“I want to take you to the shower to wash the smell of cigarette off you, and then finally find out what obscene things you were talking about…” His grin is huge and I melt.
“Okay then, I think I’ll stay.” I’m happy, knowing without a doubt that my awful mood will soon be forgotten under the flow of the warm water and the closeness of his body.
A week has passed since my mother left, leaving behind her terrible words. Danny didn’t know whether to be cross with me for not coming to say goodbye to her, or to accept the fact that had I come, we probably would’ve fought again. John didn’t blame me for my unrestrained outburst at that horrible lunch. He must’ve also realized that there’s a limit to what I can take without having to retaliate. Ben hugged me that entire morning and let me make us coffee. He played with my disheveled hair on the sofa on the patio until we said goodbye with a passionate kiss, both of us aware we didn’t know when we’d see each other again.
The following week began just like all the previous ones, and I spent it at exhibitions and galleries, trying to forget the shattering weekend with my mother. I’ve kept John company during most of our suppers, as he comes home alone from work, leaving Danny at the office, with my man.
I’ve stopped criticizing Ben about the hours he spends at the office. I’m not his girlfriend. All I can do is tease him about being a terrible workaholic and go to sleep alone, disappointed.
Waiting for the weekend to arrive, I’m hoping it will bring with it a few hours of reprieve, giving my enamored heart a break.
I’m lying in the big, soft bed, covered by a blanket, my man asleep next to me.
I don’t care what he says. When I’m here in his bed, he’s my man. He fell asleep right away, after pulling me into his strong embrace, sinking his head into my neck, and whispering to me how crazy I make him.
I turn to him and study every feature of his face. I don’t understand why he doesn’t want more. I’ve been walking around for over a month with that troubling question in my mind, afraid to ask him, for fear he won’t want me anymore.
It’s a Sunday, mid-July. I’m wondering if he’ll let me make him breakfast. Danny is unsuspecting, so besides feeling guilty about the lie we’re living, nothing else is stopping us from spending the day together.
I turn my back to him and his hands draw me to him, clinging to me instinctively. I want to stay like this for hours, hearing him breathe into my neck, but fatigue overcomes me and I fall asleep.
I open my eyes and see green ones smiling at me. I have no idea what time it is.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he says cheerfully.
“Good morning,” I yawn tiredly. “Have you been up for long?”
“Yes.” He’s lying naked on the blanket. “It took all my self-control not to wake you.”
“What time is it?” I ask, grinning at him.
“Nine.”
What? It’s nine o’clock already? Wait a minute, it’s nine o’clock and he hasn’t told me to leave yet. What’s going on?
“Why did you let me sleep so late?” I feel relaxed, and my heart wants to hear only one answer.
“You were finally lying quietly for a few minutes. I didn’t want to wake the energy bomb too early.”
Okay, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting, but I certainly like it.
“Can I make you breakfast?” I ask him, afraid of the answer and the collapse that will follow.
“No.” He’s still smiling.
“Oh,” I answer, feeling disappointed.
“I thought we’d eat out,” he says unexpectedly.
He’s taking me out for breakfast?
“Really?” I can’t believe it.
“Yes, it’s Sunday and we’re in no hurry to go anywhere, plus it’s been awhile since we’ve done something together.”
“Oh.”
That’s all I manage to say. We’re in no hurry. I’m trying to absorb that information.
“I have a plan, so let’s take a shower. I don’t want us to be late.” He gives me a hand and I curl my fingers through his, sitting up, still finding it hard to believe. He has plans?
Ben parks his car at the Camden Lock area. He gets out, comes to my side, and opens the door. Those gestures again. I don’t really need them.
I climb out of the car gracefully, dressed in last-night’s clothes: a pair of skinny jeans, a button-down blouse, and a pair of black high heels. It’s lucky I didn’t show up at his door in my ratty sweatpants. I didn’t think I’d be spending the day with him, so I didn’t think of bringing anything else to wear. Ben presses the key fob, locking the car behind us, then he gives me his hand and leads me to the sidewalk.
“Where are we going?” I ask curiously, wondering if another day of wandering around the market with him is in store.
“Patience.” He gives a disarming smile, pleased with himself. “We’re almost there.”
I love Camden Lock. It’s almost eleven o’clock, and the area is just starting to fill with activity. It’s a haven of coffee shops, trees, and water channels in the middle of the crazy city.
We pass the pedestrian bridge crossing over the channel and go down the steps, to the water line. There are boats floating, and I notice a small sign next to one of them.
“Storm Buildings’ Cruise.”
We have a cruise today? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Good thing I’m sleeping with the boss.
We reach the small ramp at the harbor and go to the elderly man standing next to the sign.
“Good morning,” he greets us, nodding.
“Good morning,” Ben replies, his triumphant smile intact.
He’s up to something. But if we are here for a company cruise, why is he holding my hand? Danny could arrive any moment.
“It seems like only the two of you have arrived.” The elderly man consults with Ben, unsure about what is happening.
“Yes, it looks that way.” Ben nods. “But I don’t think we’re waiting for anyone else.”
What? What does he mean we’re not waiting? The sign says ‘Storm Buildings Cruise’ and I’m pretty sure I read it correctly.
“Oh.” The friendly man is surprised, and so am I. “You’re welcome to go on board. Are you sure it’s just the two of you?”
Just the two of us? My heart is racing again.
“Pretty sure,” Ben replies, giving me his hand to help me onto the lower level of the boat.
I can’t believe it. In fact, I’m quite confused. He’s doing it again, saying one thing and doing the opposite. I can’t figure out what it all means.
The lower deck of the boat is long and narrow and filled with benches. There are low, oblong tables between each pair of benches. Along the boat there are long, glass windows that allow one to enjoy the view.
Ben leads me to the last bench. He indicates I should sit down and slides onto the seat opposite me. The pleasant, elderly man brings us a picnic basket.
“I think this is what you requested.” He nods politely at Ben and puts the basket on the table.
“Thank you very much. We can leave now,” Ben answers with a smile.
“You said something about breakfast?” He smiles at me.
“Mr. Storm! You are full of surprises. I could get used to this.” I giggle, still in shock.
“I very much hope so.” He sm
iles and opens the basket. I hear the engine start to roar and the boat moves out into the channel.
“Tell me, are there any secrets about London you don’t know?” I ask as Ben takes out a red-and-white checkered tablecloth and spreads it on the table.
“If there are, I definitely plan on discovering them.” He takes out a platter of cheese, a basket of bread, and a white bowl with fruit salad. He puts two knives and forks next to them. Then he takes out two cups of coffee from the basket and looks at the lids. The Pret a Manger logo is displayed on the cups.
“This is yours,” he smiles. “Weak latte, no foam.”
“How did you…” I begin, and he smiles his smug smile.
“I love paying attention to details. Bon appétit.”
Confusion overwhelms me again.
Looking out the window, it seems as though we’re serenely floating through London’s channels.
Ben is enjoying the fresh bread with the cheese, as I dig into the fruit-salad bowl with a fork. I lift up my knees and prop them up against the table. “When did you have time to plan all of this?” I take a sip of my coffee and look at him.
“Sometime during the week.” He shrugs and bites into his fresh bread.
“Oh,” I answer, still puzzled.
“You’re doing it again.” He frowns at me.
“Doing what?”
“Looking for a meaning in everything,”
How can I not? He ordered this cruise for just the two of us. He’s the one who arranged to spend the day with me, and I’m not supposed to wonder why?
“I’m not looking for a meaning in everything. I’m just wondering why you went to all the trouble,” I answer.
“Because I wanted to spend time with you, and it’s not as if we can go out and sit in the neighborhood pub together. Talia, it’s no big secret I like being with you.” He sighs, and I wonder if I’m driving him crazy and ruining what he’s planned.
“You like being with me? Not just…” I don’t finish the sentence.
“Of course I like being with you, beautiful. Just because I don’t want to be your boyfriend, doesn’t mean I only want to sleep with you.” He gives me a cheeky look. “Even though, I must say, I like doing that as well. A lot.”
