by Ally Sky
What an arrogant piece of shit. I type a short response.
Talia Blum: Go fuck yourself.
I send it and press “remove friend”.
July 30th 2012
Not Interested
Keep whatever you have to say to yourself. I don’t want to hear it. Nothing you say can make up for your deceitful behavior. You’re not my boyfriend. That’s what you’ve been saying for two months already, so now I’m not interested in what you think. Suddenly you’re worried about me? For the past two months you’ve been getting what you wanted from me, emptying yourself inside me and filling me up, and now you’re concerned?
You can pretend until there’s no tomorrow that you didn’t know how I felt. We both know that’s be a big lie, a big lie from a small person. That’s what you are—a small, shitty person and I don’t want to hear from you again.
Go to hell.
On Tuesday morning, Danny wakes me up at eight o’clock before he leaves for the office. No matter how obstinate I am, he can be more so. After I didn’t answer his phone calls yesterday, he’s not taking any chances.
“You are going to work!” He raises his voice as I turn my back to him.
“Give it up already. It’s not going to happen.”
“Talia, I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do…” He’s beside himself.
“You don’t get to decide for me! I had a father and he died, and you won’t tell me what to do!” I pull out the card he detests. Danny hates it when I remind him. He misses him much more than I do. This is exactly the kind of day when he would be glad to have him around. But he’s not here, and Danny is left with an endless feeling of responsibility to take care of me, and he takes the job very seriously.
He stalks out of the room furiously and slams the door behind him. I lie in bed, allowing the endless tears to pour down again.
It’s noon. I can’t handle these thoughts anymore. I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking of Ben. I go into the kitchen. My legs are shaking. I haven’t eaten anything in two days, which has caused even more quarrels with Danny. I take out a bottle of red from the wine rack. Maybe it will numb the pain. Only one glass. It will most definitely take effect quickly on my empty stomach. I pour a big, round glass and go out to the patio with the phone and light up a cigarette. I have to do something about my job. In any case, I’m not going back there. I should update Sarah about the situation. She should look for someone to replace me.
I open my phone and dial. I can hear it ringing.
“Talia, how are you, dear?” She sounds particularly warm. Who told her to be nice to me?
“Fine,” I answer curtly. Let’s get it over with.
“Danny said you weren’t feeling well. Are you better?”
Ah, that’s why she’s being so nice. I’m not sick. I’m angry and hurt and enraged and no, I’m not better.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I say dryly.
“Do you want to come into the office?” She sounds like she’s smiling on the other end of the line.
Absolutely not! I’m not coming anywhere near that office. God knows whom I might bump into and what I’ll do if that happens.
“No, over the phone will be fine.”
“So, what did you want to tell me, dear?” She continues with her sweet voice. She’s not going to like what I’m about to tell her. And neither will Danny, or Ben. To hell with him. He can go fuck himself.
“I’m not coming back to work,” I blurt out, and am met with silence at the other end. Did she hear what I said?
After a few seconds she pulls herself together.
“What do you mean? I thought you liked your job. And you do it so well.” She’s baffled.
“Yes, the job was really nice, but it doesn’t suit me anymore,” I say without going into any details.
“I don’t understand…” She’s at a loss for words.
What don’t you understand? That your son of a bitch boss took my heart and crushed it?
“I can’t explain. I’m just not coming back,” I say firmly.
“So you’re quitting?” she asks clearly.
“Yes.”
“Well, I am really surprised and sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better.” She sounds confused, surprised, and I think I detect some annoyance. I didn’t give her any notice. I just dropped the bombshell.
“Thanks,” I end the call and hang up. I can’t even imagine what dinner is going to be like.
“What are you doing?” The voice at the other end is livid. That was fast. I thought it would be evening before I dealt with an irate Danny.
“Don’t start with me!”
“You don’t start with me! So you broke up with a guy! Damn it, Talia! You cannot throw your life away every time it doesn’t work out with someone!”
“You don’t understand anything,” I grumble angrily. Good thing I’d poured myself some wine. I take a sip from the large glass and light up a cigarette.
“So is this how it’s going to be from now on? You’re going to sit at home, feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I’ll do whatever I want, and if you don’t like it, I can leave!” I shout in anger.
“You’re so difficult,” he mutters angrily and hangs up. I take another sip of wine. Maybe I should have a refill. It finished too soon.
At nine p.m. I go upstairs. I’ve been on the sofa since five thirty, a moment before Danny and John came back from work. Neither of them called me up for supper. Without realizing it, I’ve finished the whole bottle of wine by myself. Well, the bottle wasn’t completely full. Maybe it was, almost. I can’t really remember. And I don’t really care.
Danny stands in the kitchen, glaring at me.
“Don’t start,” I snap through the alcoholic haze, and continue walking to my room. I fall down onto the bed. At least when I’m drunk, the choking tears don’t come.
Another message beeps on my Facebook.
What do you all want from me? I open it, clicking on the icon with a sinking sensation.
Ben. Doesn’t that piece of shit get it? I don’t want to hear from him—ever. Ugh, he can still send me messages even though I removed him as a friend. Why doesn’t he disappear already?
Ben Storm: I heard what you did. It was really stupid. You’re only punishing yourself. I don’t understand you. I thought that things were clear between us. I just hope I’m not wrong. Talia, stop being angry at the entire world. You are not a victim here. If you want to talk, I’m listening.
What makes him think I want to talk to him? He’s shit like all men, and I’ve got nothing to say to him. So he can just stop sending me aggravating messages. I close my phone angrily and let my foggy thoughts take over.
I’m sitting in silence on the loveseat on the patio, smoking another cigarette. It’s Thursday evening. I take another sip of wine, allowing it to fog up my thoughts. This is the only way I manage to stop crying. I’m still angry, now mainly with myself for being so naïve, for hoping. The pain I tried so hard to avoid has arrived. I hoped it wouldn’t surface because of all my rage, but it did. And it’s so bad. A terrible longing envelops me all the time and memories wash over me.
I don’t want to think about him. He’s with someone else. That thought twists the knife constantly imbedded in my heart, until it becomes an endless torture. I lied to myself and pretended it could happen, that he would want me as much as I wanted him. Now I’ve fallen into an abyss and don’t know how to get out. I can’t stop crying. I try to paint, but I find myself back on the small sofa, curled up in a familiar, fetal position, crying myself to sleep.
Since Tuesday evening there’s been no more shouting. Danny is hanging around me, insanely worried and helpless, seeing my eyes swollen. I try my best not to bump into him and to avoid his gaze. John is walking on eggshells, trying not to get caught in the line of fire. I’ve spent the past two days drawing an imaginary triangle from the sofa on the patio, to the basement and, from there, to my bedroom. I’ve
tried to find a way to stop crying, but nothing helps. Only the alcohol deadens the never-ending pain.
I take another sip of wine as John joins me on the patio. He sits on the big sofa and lights a cigarette. I look at him miserably. He inhales and releases a stream of white smoke.
“It’s time we talked, kiddo,” he says gently and looks at me with concern.
“I don’t know what to say,” I answer softly. If I start talking, I’ll cry again, even with all the wine.
“I want to understand what happened.”
“I was an idiot, that’s what happened.” I try to suppress the insistent tears.
“Talia, you are not an idiot. Something happened. We’re all worried, and I don’t worry easily. Talk to me.” He looks troubled and is examining my reaction.
“I thought he’d want more, but he didn’t.” A damn tear falls down my cheek.
“We spoke about this a few weeks ago.” He shakes his head, disappointed. He had tried to warn me.
“I know, but he confused me.”
“How?” He’s trying to understand. How much can I tell him without revealing too much? I got away with that article in the newspaper without anyone finding out. I can’t make any mistakes now.
“I know what he said, but his actions…” I sniffle, the tears falling continuously. “I told him everything about me, and he never panicked or ran off. He listened to me for hours. He took me to the park where we sat on a blanket all afternoon, and he told me I was lovely, and smart, and pretty. What was I supposed to understand from all of that?” I weep loudly, burying my head between my knees.
“I can understand why you thought he wanted more,” he agrees. “Do you love him?”
I let out a terrible moan of pain. I want to hate him. I want to stop thinking about him all the time and not miss him.
“Yes,” I reply faintly through the tears. “I love him.”
I’m awakened on Friday by the beeping of a new message on my mobile. I finally fell asleep at four in the morning after sobbing into my pillow. I glance at the clock on my phone. It’s eleven thirty. I slept, but was haunted by bad dreams. I open the message with burning eyes and I fall apart.
11:28
I can no longer avoid Danny’s invitations. I’m coming over this evening.
With Jenny. If it’s too much for you, I’ll understand you not being there.
Ben.
The knife is pushed in deeper and twisted some more. A terrible heartache. It can’t be. He’s bringing her… here?
I walk around the house like a crazy woman. He’s coming this evening. And he’s bringing her with him. I haven’t seen him since Saturday, since he threw away everything we had between us and went back to her. Since he slept with her.
I’m not staying here, I’m not going to sit with her and see how happy they are together. It’s too much. Just the thought of the two of them kills me. But I want to see him so badly, I miss his green eyes so much.
I open another bottle of wine and sneak out to the patio. I take huge gulps and smoke cigarette after cigarette. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything, definitely not since yesterday. The wine goes straight to my head and dulls my thoughts. I lie back and close my eyes. What do I do?
The patio door opens. Danny’s troubled, almond eyes look at me. He sees the empty wine glass on the table and isn’t happy.
“I hope you left something for this evening,” he says quietly. “We’re having guests.”
My stomach churns. I know we’re having guests. That’s why I drank all the wine.
“What’s the time?” I ask in a shaky voice.
“Five thirty. Did you sleep here?”
“I must have. I’m going to shower.”
I slowly get up from the sofa. I have no more strength to move. Crying for the past few days has left me exhausted, and the fact that I’ve hardly eaten doesn’t help. I go inside and pass Danny in the kitchen.
“What are you going to eat?” I ask almost inaudibly.
“We ordered Chinese. I didn’t think you were in a state to cook,” he answers, avoiding my eyes. I’m definitely not in a state to cook. If I had to cook for Ben and that girlfriend of his, who knows what poison I’d put in their food?
I go into the shower and let the hot water flow over me.
He’s coming this evening. He’ll bring that awful woman with him, the one who has already run away from him once. And he still prefers her to me. The tears refuse to stop, and I sob under the flow of water.
Why am I doing this to myself? Why not just leave and sit in a pub the entire evening? I don’t think it’s such a good idea in my present situation. No, I’m going to stop crying and have a glass of wine. Then I’ll sit on the patio and watch Ben hugging another woman, and the tears will flow again.
I sit on my bed and slide my legs into a pair of tight jeans. My hip bones protrude more than usual. I put on a cream-colored shirt and go into the bathroom in an attempt to put on some makeup, hoping to hide my swollen eyes. I look at myself in the mirror and give myself a firm talking-to.
Now listen carefully, Talia, he’s an asshole. He’s an asshole like all men and he doesn’t need to know what you’re feeling. Remember that. He’s a shit of a person and you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you suffer. So be angry and spiteful or whatever, but enough with your misery! Now go out there and pretend you don’t give a damn about anything!
I try to muster my anger toward his actions, his nice words, which he probably never even meant, the blanket in the park, the boating on the canals, and the luxury suite.
I leave the bathroom made-up and barefoot. As I enter the kitchen, I bump into a pair of startled, green eyes staring at me. In spite of my anger, an emotional storm rages inside of me. Ben is here and he’s surprised to see me.
He’s wearing his purple shirt and black pants, and his hair has grown even longer this week. It looks shaggy now and I can detect some highlights. In spite of all my anger, he still looks amazing. So amazing, it hurts.
The woman standing next to him is tall and thin. She’s wearing a dark purple dress, which fits her perfectly. Her straight black hair falls to her shoulders. She’s looking at me with big, blue eyes and a small smile.
Snow White. The perfect and gentle Snow White, whose hand is holding onto the arm of the man who, until one week ago, was my man and who, now, is looking at me with fearful, green eyes.
You’re here, and so am I. I didn’t run off anywhere. I’ve been suffering for an entire week. You can suffer for one evening.
“Talia,” he says, his voice quiet and cold.
“Ben.” I look away from him, walk behind the island, and open a bottle of wine.
I take a large glass out of the cupboard and fill it to the rim, pouring only for myself. Then I go out to the patio to smoke, taking my glass of wine. I don’t even give him the chance to introduce us. Tonight I’m making no effort to be nice to anyone, not for Danny’s sake, not for Ben’s and certainly not for Snow White.
I light a cigarette, lean back, and stare up at the sky.
She’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Is it any wonder? I’m such a fuck up and she’s perfect, tall and gentle, with her blue eyes and long, black hair. Of course he slept with her. He didn’t wait a moment. He took her to bed and then waited until I arrived in the evening to dump me.
I make a huge effort not to cry. Not tonight, not now. Not with Snow White in the kitchen. I take another sip of wine and pray it will stop the tears.
I don’t know how much time passes before I hear the doorbell ring and assume the food has arrived. I don’t get off the sofa, Danny will invite me in when everything is ready. I light up another cigarette and blow out white smoke.
I just want to be angry, vindictive, and venomous. He brought that Jenny here. What am I supposed to do? Smile and pretend how wonderful she is, all the time knowing what she’s done, knowing what I was prepared to do for him? Am I supposed to pretend that I don’t car
e, that I don’t miss him all the time, that I don’t love him so much?
As I expected, Danny looks out onto the patio, smiling worriedly.
“We’re sitting down to eat,” he says gently, expecting my usual refusal.
“I’m coming,” I answer, catching a look of disbelief in his eyes. He didn’t expect me to accept.
He looks at me, speechless.
“What? I’m coming,” I grumble. Not that I plan on eating anything. I’ve decided to just sit there, deliberately, so that Ben will suffer, with each passing moment, just as I’m suffering. He made his bed, now he’ll lie in it.
I stub out my cigarette and go into the kitchen with my empty glass of wine. When I was outside I didn’t feel so drunk, but now I wobble and my legs feel like jelly.
Ben and Jenny are sitting with their backs to the patio. I walk behind them and a quick glance reveals they’re holding hands beneath the table.
What am I doing here? Why am I doing this to myself?
John is sitting opposite them, and Danny takes a plate out of the cupboard for me. He didn’t think I would have supper with them, he hadn’t even set a place for me. At least now I can choose where to sit. I walk past John, leaving an empty chair for Danny, and sit down opposite them. I steal another glance at Ben who still looks apprehensive. He’s not pleased with the whole set-up and I know he would prefer me to disappear, but this is my house now, and I’m not going anywhere.
Danny puts the plate down in front of me and everyone starts passing the food around. I take the bottle of wine and pour myself another full glass.
“Maybe you should slow down with that,” Danny suggests. “You know it’s not good for you.”
“Why not? It’s not like I’m pregnant or anything,” I answer maliciously, and Ben looks at me unhappily. I’m not pregnant. Jenny was pregnant. I don’t even get my period. And Ben knows that better than anybody else around this table.
