by Ani San
His first text came around 4 p.m. I was painting when I saw his name pop up on my phone display. I had to sit down after I read it, not sure how to feel about the message. It read Miss U! When can I C U again? He missed me. Really? And he wanted to meet me again? I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, but it didn’t do me any good on long terms. I couldn’t handle the rollercoaster of him coming and going and seeing him with his perfect wife. But he did want to see me again. My stomach fluttered at that. But what does that mean. Was I a booty call? I couldn’t handle that, could I? It wasn’t something I could decide just like that. So I put my phone down, ignoring the message for now. I tried to get back to the painting, but my mind wasn’t into it anymore. So I gave up and started to clean my brushes while I pondered what to answer. I couldn’t go through with this. I couldn’t go around waiting for him to come over and have sex whenever he felt the need. Well, I could handle the sex, I had no problem helping him with that. But he is married, for gods’ sake. And a celebrity. Did I want to end up on the cover of some sleazy magazine? Could I handle the sneaking around, lying to my friends, not to mention his wife. I knew who those blue eyes in my nightmare represented. I exited the studio and went in to the kitchen, made myself a fruit salad and ate it slowly, still pondering my answer. Finally, I put my phone away, deciding not to text him anything. If I nourished this anymore than I already have, I would fall helplessly in love with him. And that would probably kill me. And it’s pretty hard to enjoy life if you’re dead.
His second message came just after eight. R U OK? I could probably answer that one, but I was afraid that would encourage him to write more. I wasn’t sure how strong I would be in my decision if he kept texting me. Finally, I caved, and texted him a ‘Yes’ in return.
His third text came two seconds after mine was sent. Do U have any plans this weekend? I couldn’t answer that one. My mind kept drifting to the possibility that he came and stayed another weekend, but I refused to be taken in. If I let him in Friday, then he would leave me again Sunday. I couldn’t deal with that.
An hour later, he called. I didn’t pick up. Then a new text: Please call me. I didn’t of course. I left my phone on the living room table and went to bed. Half an hour later, I went back and got it, placing it on my nightstand. I lay in bed for an hour watching it, waiting for him to call again or send me a new text. I didn’t want him to, but I was hoping he would anyway. The phone stayed silent. I almost called him back. But I forced myself to lie still. It took a while, but I finally drifted of to sleep.
Next day, he called three times before I turned it off. I had woken up determent to go on with my life without the complication. After everything I went through with Erik, I should know better. I didn’t need to feel the pain every time I saw him with his wife, or to think about him being with her. I didn’t want to feel jealous. And I didn’t want to get hurt. I didn’t deserve to be his booty call, I could do better. But I missed him. I had stupidly, irreversible, massively fallen in love with him. I was in so much trouble.
I was painting my nightmare-piece when I heard the buzzer. I ignored it. I wasn’t in a mood to have company. Five minutes later the doorbell rang. That was weird. I knew Jeffrey was downstairs, and I couldn’t picture him letting someone up without an answer on the intercom. At least Frank never did. How did he even know I was home? Well, of course he knew, I always went out the main entrance, since I didn’t have a car in the garage. But that didn’t mean that he could let someone up without asking. Unless it’s Alice. She has been here so many times, that Jeffrey probably just let her up. Frank never did, though. I had my painting clothes on, a used-to-be white top and some green harem pants. Both were covered in stains. On the way to the door, I saw my face had paint stains as well. Alice wouldn’t care, I thought as I opened the door.
I inhaled sharply as I stood face to face with Christopher. He was outside my apartment, without a mask. Just him, dressed casually in a grey suit and white shirt. His demeanour was serious, almost angry, like I had done something wrong.
‘Chris, what are you doing here?’ I knew my question was abrupt and rude, but I was so surprised. He stepped in, forcing me to backtrack into my own hallway. He closed the door behind him.
‘You don’t answer your phone,’ he growled.
‘I have been busy,’ I said, holding up my fingers covered in blue and white paint. ‘How did you get up here?’
‘The doorman is a fan. That’s not the point. You should have called back.’ He was backing me up against the wall now. ‘Are you angry with me? Have I done something wrong?’ He wasn’t angry anymore, but he was still serious as he came closer.
I wanted to answer him yes, he did something wrong. He allowed me to fall in love with him and then left me to be with his wife. I wasn’t that stupid, though. I didn’t tell him that.
‘Aren’t you a little to paranoid to come all the way here to ask me that?’ I said instead.
‘I had to, you didn’t answer your god damn phone. Besides, I’m not alone. Anna is waiting by the elevator. I only have a minute.’
The small part of me that hoped that this was a booty call just died. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.
‘I’m sorry. I thought maybe we were through,’ I whispered. I was definitely disappointed this wasn’t a booty call.
‘Through? Like finished? You invite me home and spend two amazing days with me, and then just toss me aside?’ He was in my face now, and I was staring into his eyes. It took me a second to realise that he had stolen my lines. Those were supposed to be my words. He was the one who left, he was the one who is married. I didn’t know what to say.
‘I thought we had a connection, that we had something. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it too?’ His voice was softer now, hypnotizing me. I had trouble finding my own voice.
‘I did.’ My voice was husky and my emotions in turmoil. I couldn’t let him do this to me. ‘I also felt left behind when you walked out my door.’
‘You were the one throwing me out because your friend was coming. And I tried to talk to you before that, but you kind of jumped me.’
I blushed at his word, guilty as charge. I didn’t want to hear his goodbye speech.
‘You side-tracked me, and I never got to tell you what I am feeling.’ He smiled his crocked smile now. I loved that smile. But I couldn’t let him drag me into this. It wasn’t fair on me, or his wife. Besides, we were from two completely different worlds. It could never work.
‘It doesn’t matter how you felt, you have responsibility elsewhere.’
‘Feel. Not felt, feel! You are a drug to me, Sara. I can’t take my mind off of you.’
‘It still doesn’t matter, Chris.’ I closed my eyes and tried to hold back my tears. I didn’t want to take in his words. He would only end up hurting me if I started to believe that he cared. I could feel his fingers trail my cheeks and mouth, then his soft lips pressing against my forehead.
‘Look, I don’t have time to explain everything now, but I will. We are going to make this work, you just have to trust me. Can I see you this weekend?’
‘I don’t know, Chris. I want to, but I’m not sure that’s such a good ide.’ My words became muffled as his lips stroked passed mine in a soft touch. I inhaled the scent of him, and parted my lips. I wanted him to kiss me with the passion we shared the last time. I wanted him to push me against the wall and have his way with me. I had no self-control, no self-pride. And I was utterly disappointed in the light kiss he placed on my lips before he took a step away from me.
‘I have to go. If I stay any longer, I might not be capable of keeping my hands of you. Anna is bound to come get me soon, I’m late for a meeting already. I just needed to see you.’ He was by the door now. ‘Please call me.’
I was still standing with my back to the wall as he closed the door. My mind was numb. My heart was racing. I kept backtracking his words, analysing every sentence, trying to find some way to convince myself that this really was hap
pening. He wanted to be with me. I wasn’t sure how that would work. And I didn’t know if that was something I could handle. I loved being with him, but could I handle him leaving me time after time? Could I handle seeing him with his wife? Could I be with a married man? And could I really do that to her, was I the sort of person who didn’t care about other peoples feelings? I really didn’t believe that before. Now, I wasn’t so sure anymore. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted him more than anything. And that scared me.
I didn’t call him Tuesday evening. Nor did I call the next day. I was about to, several times, but changed my mind every time. It was easier to think rational when he wasn’t in the same room. That didn’t mean I stopped thinking about him. He was constantly on my mind. I found myself googling him on my computer, or going through the channels on my TV in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Then I saw his wife in a movie, and quickly turned the TV off.
He didn’t call me either, and didn’t send me any text. I missed him. I was starting to worry that I had lost my chance, and that he’d given up and moved on. It was probably for the best. But my soul didn’t agree. I wanted to see him, to hear his voice, to feel his touch. I wanted to see him this weekend, even if he broke my heart when he left. I started thinking that it would be worth it. I could suffer for eternity if I could just spend another day with him. I realised I was already in too deep, and I didn’t care.
Thursday morning I caved. My stomach was fluttering with butterflies as I picked up the phone to dial his number. I was so excited to finally hear his voice again, that I hadn’t considered that it might not be him answering. I did after all call his personal cell. So when a female voice was in the rear end, I almost hang up.
‘Mr Petrelli’s phone, Anna speaking.’
‘Hey Anna, this is Sara Nord. Could I please speak with Christopher?’ I was stammering.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Nord, but he is in a meeting. I could interrupt if it’s important.’
Her voice were professional, and far from the warm voice I was expecting when I dialled. I pictured her going into a meeting and interrupt, telling them that Christopher’s mistress insisted on speaking with him. That would be something.
‘No, it’s not important,’ I answered her. ‘But could you please let him know that I called?’
‘Of course, miss Nord.’
‘Thank you! Have a nice day.’
I was about to hang up, when she stopped me.
‘Hold on a minute, Miss Nord. I’m just going to find my book. I was about to call you to arrange a meeting concerning the painting Mr Petrelli wanted. The one for his study.’ I could hear her flickering through pages. I didn’t know the painting was still on. I thought that was just an excuse to see me again.
‘It would be nice if we could schedule something in the near future, both Mr and Mrs Petrelli is leaving in a couple of weeks. They would like the piece to be finished before July 18. How long do you think it would take to paint it?’
‘I don’t know. That would depend on what Christopher wants.’
If she got the double meaning, she didn’t make a number out of it. Her voice was as formal as usual. ‘I think that is what they want to discuss with you. It is best if we could do this as soon as possible. Either tomorrow or next Wednesday. What is best for you?’
‘Tomorrow is fine.’ I didn’t mind the short notice, it gave me less time to worry.
‘Good. Shall we say after lunch? I will have Charles pick you up.’
I remembered Charles. ‘It’s no problem, I can take the bus if you give me an address.’ I had read somewhere that they had a mansion outside the city, on the eastside, but I had no idea where.
I almost dropped the phone when I heard her laugh. I didn’t know she was capable of making that sound.
‘I don’t think Christopher will accept that. Charles will be outside your apartment at half past two’, she said.
‘Ok. Thank you.’
‘Then I shall see you tomorrow. I will tell Mr Petrelli that you called. Have a nice day.’
Christopher called half an hour later. I was back in my studio sketching, trying not to think about the next day. I saw his name on the caller id, but didn’t say anything as I pressed answer, and sat down in my wicker chair by the window.
‘Sara?’ his soft whispering sent a thrilling sensation through my body.
‘Yes,’ I whispered back.
‘I’m glad you called. How are you?’
Lonely, I wanted to answer. But that would make me seem needy. ‘I’m fine. How are you?’
‘I’m still in a meeting, I stepped out as soon as I got your message. Anna told me you agreed to do the commission piece.’
‘Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. I didn’t know that was still on.’
‘Of course it is. I told you I need a large painting, and I can’t imagine letting someone else do it. But we can discuss that tomorrow. What are you doing now?’
I smiled at him through the phone. ‘I’m sketching. What meeting are you in?’
‘I’m about to sign a contract on a new movie. They start shooting at the end of the year, mainly in New Zealand.’
‘Wow, that sounds exciting. Have you ever been there before?’
‘No, never New Zealand. I’ve been to Sydney a couple of times, but only short trips. How about you?’
‘No, I haven’t. But Alice and me were talking about it the other night. We are planning a trip this summer, and Australia was an option until we remembered it’s wintertime there now. So I think we will be touring Europe instead.’
‘You’re going away this summer?’
‘Yes, I think so. We haven’t exactly decided yet.’
He didn’t answer at first, and I glanced at the phone to see if the connection was broken.
‘Christopher?’
‘Yes. Sorry. Listen, my agent is calling me back to the meeting. But I will see you tomorrow, right?’
‘Sure. Goodbye.’
When I came downstairs half passed two the next day, there was a black Mercedes with darkened windows waiting for me by the entrance. I was feeling quite posh as Frank opened the entrance door and Charles stepped out to open the car door for me. I was dressed in a black cocktail dress with off-the-shoulder neckline. It was probably the fifth dress I had tried on this morning. I had tried several different hairstyles, landing on a sleek bun in the back. I felt I looked professional. Not street corner professional, but I can do a good job-professional. I didn’t know why I was nervous.
I smiled to Charles, still a little intimidated by his enormous figure. Then I blushed as I sat down on the leather seats, thinking that when I met him the last time, it was because Christopher needed some things after staying the night. He smiled back genuinely, which made his demeanour seem less frightening. It didn’t do anything for my nervousness, though. He shut the door and got back behind the wheels. I couldn’t see him as he got into the car, since I was in the back seat, and there was a black glass partition dividing the front and back. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t big on small talk.
The car was crawling through the London traffic, and I was staring out on the parks and old buildings and endless crowds of tourists. There was probably a mile long line outside Tower of London. After two years in London, I still hadn’t been there. I’ve been to most of the bigger museums, but avoided the obvious tourist traps. But art museums had been mandatory. Charles didn’t cross the Tower Bridge, the car continued east parallel to the river. The car ride seemed to go on forever. I had no idea how long the ride would get, and I was getting restless. I was excited to see Christopher again, and curious about his home. My mind flickered back to the conversation I had with Christopher, and the one with Anna before that. It was something off about something she said. But I couldn’t remember what it was. I remembered saying that the time it took me to paint a picture depended on what Christopher wanted. I couldn’t believe I had said that to her. We both knew why he was spending time with me. Then it hit
me, the response she gave to my comment. I think that is what they want to discuss with you. The keyword being they. As in Mr and Mrs? Did she mean that Julia would be present? He wouldn’t do that to me. It’s one thing to screw around with a married man, I felt guilty enough as it was. But meeting his wife. I couldn’t. The thought of it got my heart racing. I could feel my breathing getting harder. Not now, I thought. Not in here. I closed my eyes and pushed away the fear and panic. I concentrated on taking deep breaths. In…Out… In… Out… Finally, the pulse slowed down and I could breath normally again. My palms were sweaty, and I tried drying them on my cotton dress. She would be angry, if she knew. She must have wondered were he was all weekend. Did she know it was with me? Pictures of Julia in a flaming rage made me panic all over again. But it was easier to rein it the second time. After I gained control, I forbid myself to think anything about it. I forced myself to picture colours and shapes, and let my mind drift to the paintings in my studio. A calming peace came over me, like the one I got when I was holding a paintbrush. It lasted until I pictured my current piece. The one from my nightmare, with the cold blue eyes. I needed a distraction. I couldn’t sit alone with my own thoughts anymore. I located the button to lower the privacy partition. Charles’ eyes met mine as they glanced in the rear mirror, and I got worried that this wasn’t a custom thing to do. But it couldn’t be helped, sitting alone and staring out the window wasn’t doing me any good.
