Bitter Sweet Love

by R. C. Stephens

  He looks at me. “I hope I didn’t offend you back there, Alexis. It’s just that you seem so smart and beautiful. Most girls are either one or the other, not both. Why do you want to jump around from guy to guy? There must be a reason.”

  Not liking his psychoanalysis of me, I want to get up from the table and leave, but something tells me to wait, that maybe he’s worth listening to. A huge part of me is tired of hookup after hookup and what he proposes sounds enticing.

  “I actually would rather talk about you. What did you mean that you were beaten down?” I respond to his question with a question, hoping to deflect the spotlight from myself for a while.

  “It’s not something I like to talk about, but I guess I put my foot in my own mouth by bringing it up.”

  I say nothing, showing him that I expect an explanation.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know what to say, Alexis. I left France to get away from my family. My father is a controlling asshole. Everything has to be done his way. I never wanted to work in the family business. I wanted to travel and enjoy life, maybe buy a motorcycle and a leather jacket and hit the road. I’ve always dreamed of that kind of freedom. Yet I find myself in designer suits, running the company here in Canada. I got away from France, but I haven’t been able to escape the pressure of the family business. When I was young, my father used tough disciplinary measures to train my brothers and me to take over the company one day. He thought he was teaching us respect and discipline, but it was just other words for abuse.

  “He had wicked ways of getting us to agree to his terms, even if it was of no interest to us. He didn’t take no for an answer. He agreed to let me leave France, and I’m grateful to be in Canada. But I’m still running things his way from here. I wish I could drop everything and disappear to a tropical island or something.”

  His eyes have the same intensity now as when I first met him. He bows his head in resignation, like a defeated little boy. I know what defeat feels like. I bowed my head too many times to my mother. We lived life her way, sweeping everything under the rug so no one would find out the truth. Luc lifts his head and his eyes seem a little red. This man, who is usually full of strength and humor, is broken like me. My heart aches for him, but I can’t let my wall down. Two broken people can never be good for one another.

  I fidget with a pack of sugar. Then, without warning, it all pours out of me. “My mom was an abusive alcoholic. She only became sober when I was eighteen and getting ready to move out. She never apologized for her behavior and she likes to act like everything is normal. I’m guessing you saw the scars on my back the other night. Is that what tipped you off?”

  “I’ll be honest with you. I noticed them, but you probably also noticed the scar I have on my shoulder, as well?” I nod my head. I noticed one scar, but I didn’t think much of it.

  “My father was proving a point with a leather strap when I was seventeen years old. The buckle cut through my skin.” He searches my face, but I don’t know for what.

  We’re exchanging notes on what it was like to be abused and it’s a little odd, to say the least. We may understand each other, but it doesn’t mean anything.

  I need to respond to him, show some sympathy, in the only politically correct way I know how. “Sorry. That must have been tough. I know how it is.” I hate having this conversation and dredging up the past.

  “You do, don’t you?” Our eyes meet, understanding flies between us, and I wish the conversation would shift to something light and easy.

  “Look, you’re a nice guy, Luc. It sucks having an abusive parent, we clearly have that in common, but like I told you, I don’t do relationships. I don’t know how to. You said yourself that I’m broken. Please don’t think you can fix me. It’s not a challenge.” A smirk splays across his lips, and I don’t like it. I’m still a mountain for him to climb, and I want to wipe that little smile off of his face. “What you decide to do with your life is your own choice.” I pause. “You should know I was with someone last night.” He visibly winces, and I see him considering his next move, but I really don’t think there’s anything left to say.

  “Meet me for breakfast tomorrow morning?”

  I want to drop my mouth open. I was sure I got rid of him. He’s thrown me off guard now. “Why?” I ask and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Why not? Alexis, I want to get to know you better. Don’t read into it because there’s nothing there.”

  I consider his words and take them at face value. I don’t have classes on Friday so I reply, “Okay.”

  Thankfully the direction of our conversation shifts to something light and friendly. He asks about school. He never went to university and is curious about the whole thing. He spends a lot of time laughing about his cousin Callen and what it’s like to be in a frat house. I tell him how I’ve been to many frat parties and how they’re usually very wild, over-packed with too many drunk people, who end up having crazy, raucous nights. He says that he used to go out a lot in France and is quite a ladies man himself, which I can totally see. I’m sure all women drool over him.

  Luc asks for the bill and we walk out of the restaurant. The black Escalade waits for us outside, and the driver takes me home. Luc doesn’t offer to walk me to the door, but he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I nod and walk out to the apartment. When I unlock the door, I notice Anna has a shirt tied on her doorknob, which means she has someone spending the night, probably Callen.

  I put on a comfy pair of flannel pajamas and crawl into bed. I hate getting into bed at night. I always feel like my body temperature drops when I’m tired. My bed is freezing, and it takes me forever to warm up and drift off to sleep. Luc’s words ring in my mind. It seems like he wants to be friends, but it’s something else, almost like he wants to fix me. I can’t help but think of Dylan. I was broken when I was with him, and he accepted me for me. I miss him. I don’t know when the ache I feel over losing him will end. Luc doesn’t get it. Like he said, he’s still running the family business, playing the part his father wants him to regardless of how he feels. I’m the same, but I wish he would let it go.

  ***

  I sleep in, taking advantage of my day off, exhausted from my week of partying and going to classes. Luc texts me around nine. I hear the beep but ignore it. I get back to him around ten thirty, and we agree to meet at a breakfast place around the Eaton Centre. I take the bus because I don’t want him picking me up. When I get to the restaurant, he’s already there, sitting at a table off to the corner. My heart rate accelerates as I look at the beautiful man in front of me. He stands up, kisses my cheek, and holds my chair out for me. Although his behavior is groomed and proper, I can tell there’s a bad boy trying to escape. Maybe if he was a bad boy on a motorcycle like he described yesterday, I’d be more enticed to fall into bed with him again.

  In my tight, black, turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans, I’m dressed as if I’m meeting a friend. Predictably, Luc’s formal in a button down shirt, a fancy pair of jeans, and nice shoes. He passes me a menu and asks how I slept last night.

  “Why is it that Canadians like to eat a lot of meat for breakfast?” he asks.

  I throw my head back laughing because it’s so true. “I don’t know. I personally never eat meat for breakfast, but then again I’m not really a big meat eater.”

  Luc looks at me with lust in his eyes, like he enjoys watching me. I try not to pay attention and keep the conversation very casual. We both order vegetarian frittatas and as I eat, I can’t help but wonder why he’s so fixated on me. I just admitted to him that I had a meaningless hookup after I slept with him. It doesn’t make sense that he would still want me. Maybe I want to be wanted.

  “Hey, do you have any plans today? I was hoping to see the city. I‘ve been here for a couple of months already, and I haven’t seen any of the sights,” he says and takes a delicate bite of his food.

  I finish chewing and swallow. “What d
o you have in mind?”

  “How about the CN Tower?”

  My face pales. I have a fear of heights. I get the same reaction as I do to relationships. I find it hard to breathe. “Uh, I’m not sure. I’m not so big on heights.”

  “Okay, how about the zoo or something. You like animals?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I love animals, but I have a better idea. How about we go to Canada’s Wonderland? I think it’s still open on Fridays and weekends in September.”

  “What’s that?” he asks, taking another bite of his frittata.

  “It’s the Canadian version of Euro Disney,” I reply.

  “Alexis, I’ve never been to Euro Disney. It was never my father’s thing. I told you I didn’t have much of a childhood,” he says with his raspy accent, his voice subdued.

  “It’ll be fun. There are lots of rides and games,” I say.

  “I thought you said you don’t like heights.”

  “I don’t, but that’s different. It’s exciting, and it gets your adrenaline pumping.”

  He nods, but I don’t think he really understands what I mean. I’m not sure why I like roller coasters so much. My emotions burst out of me and I feel alive. I can’t fight the smile that escapes my lips. It’s real happiness and not some façade I have to make up.

  “Let’s go. My car’s in the underground parking lot.”

  We head down to the parking lot in the elevator. I follow his lead. I thought he used his driver all the time, but I guess he drives, too.

  “Right this way.” He pulls a key out of his pocket and hits the button to unlock the doors. I see a red Lamborghini in front of us light up, and I’m shocked. I’ve never been inside a sports car like this before. A girlish smile blooms on my face.

  “This is some car,” I say, all giddy about driving in a race car. He said he wanted a leather jacket and a motorcycle, but this beats those any day.

  “What can I say? You know boys and their toys.” He winks.

  “Right,” I say, turned on by the excitement. This guy really does have my emotions all messed up.

  I get in the car and buckle my seat belt. The car is a cherry red rocket ship. He pulls into traffic and swerves through cars.

  “You know, you’d better be careful. There are a lot of cops on the highways, and you don’t want a ticket,” I say, gripping the seat, a little nervous about his erratic driving.

  “No big deal, so I’ll pay the ticket. The smile on your face right now is worth it.” He grins.

  “So you can tell I’m enjoying the ride?”

  He shrugs, like it’s kind of obvious. I feel a little childish over my excitement. He drives swiftly along the highway, and I tell him I’ll keep my eyes open for police cars. We laugh and have fun and it’s light and easy.

  We arrive at Wonderland. Lucky I wore my Converse because the park is huge, and we’ll be walking a lot. But Luc is wearing a fancy pair of designer shoes.

  “Are you going to be okay walking a lot in those shoes?” I ask, giggling in a concerned kind of way.

  “You’d be surprised how far I can walk in these.” He chuckles back.

  “Which direction should we go?” he asks.

  “Just follow me. I know this place well. I used to come here in high school with friends.”

  I take him by the hand, leading him to the first ride, the Leviathan. It’s a new ride and the longest roller coaster in North America.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t go on that,” he says, pointing at the roller coaster and running his fingers through his short, dark hair.

  “Why not? It’ll be fun.”

  The ride is at the entrance to Wonderland. We haven’t walked very far and it’s probably the scariest ride here.

  “You’re scared of heights, yet you want to go on that thing?” he asks, shaking his head.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.” I pull him by the arm and we get in line.

  The closer we get to our turn, the faster my heart races. Luc looks at me like I’m insane. For the first time since I met him, he seems scared, the challenge of me long gone for now. We climb into our seat and pull the metal bar toward us for safety. Luc is quiet, but I grasp his hand in mine, giving him a little smile.

  “You okay?” I ask him, suddenly worried that something is wrong.

  “No, I’m having a post-traumatic stress disorder attack from being buckled down right now. I just don’t like this.”

  “Shit, Luc, why didn’t you say something before we got on the ride?”

  “It’s okay. Maybe it’s a good thing that I try to face my fears.” He grins, but I can tell that he’s nervous by the way he clenches his jaw.

  When the ride starts, he clutches my hand tighter, and I hold on to him too, hoping to reassure him. We rise slowly up a hill, and my heart thunders in my ears as I anticipate the first drop, which is practically ninety degrees. Then we fall, picking up speed; my smile is plastered across my face as the intense wind hits us. I’m free, happy. The ride is over too soon. I look over to Luc, who has become visibly pale and is barely able to move.

  “Shit, are you okay, Luc?”

  “Not really. My head is spinning. I think I’m going to be sick.” His handsome face is green, matching his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I feel bad now.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I should never have agreed. I’ve never been on one of those roller coasters before, and I didn’t know what to expect.” He waves his hand, like he’s fine, and I shouldn’t worry, but he stumbles a bit as he walks.

  “So I guess bungee jumping is out of the picture then?” I ask, laughing. His eyes practically bulge out of his head. I throw my hands up in surrender. “Relax, it was a joke. Let me take you back to my apartment, and we can hang out there.”

  We walk out to the car, and Luc hangs on to my arm, swaying a bit.

  “Will you be able to drive?” I ask, worried that the way back will be even crazier than the drive to Wonderland.

  He shakes his head. “No. I normally don’t let anyone drive my cars, but I don’t think we have a choice here. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “Holy fuck.” My mouth drops open in a large O. “You want me to drive the red rocket ship?”

  He looks a little confused, then looks over to the car, realizing what I’m talking about. He tosses the keys my way, and I get into the driver’s seat, my adrenaline rush lasting even longer now. “Just accelerate slowly. It’s a powerful car,” he says and tilts his seat back.

  I put my foot on the gas and the car flies forward. Holy shit, this is going to be a fun ride home! Luc keeps the window open the whole way back to the apartment, and I try my hardest not to crash the car, which must be worth a fortune.

  “So did a doctor diagnose you with the post-traumatic stuff?” I ask, glancing at him for a moment. I can’t take my eyes off the road while driving this thing, but I’m curious. I guess because I’m sure I also have emotional issues after the way I was raised, but I’ve never tried to get any help.

  “No, I’m self-diagnosed.”

  “Oh.” That surprises me. “So you read psychology books and realized what you had?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t feel like I’m prying too much.

  “You can say that. My father doesn’t believe in psychiatrists, and I’ve been dealing with symptoms for years. I had to understand why I am this way.” He looks at me with heavy eyes.

  Maybe he thinks I’ll judge him, but that’s not my intention. I just want to understand because there are so many things about my own behavior that I don’t comprehend.

  “That’s interesting. I’m not trying to judge you, you know?” I say with a low tone.

  “I know.” He smiles meaningfully, and I think he gets me on a different level.

  Thankfully, I manage to get us home, no damage done, and I help him lay down on the couch. He passes out for a couple of hours while I catch up on some school work.

  Our day got messed up. He asked me to take him sightseeing and I go and
get him sick. My mind drifts back to when we first wanted to get on the ride and how vulnerable he became. I’m vulnerable too, with my own demons, and I’m not dealing any better than he is. It’s interesting that he read about his symptoms, although it seems that he’s far from being cured. As much as I want to push him out of my life, fate had a different plan for today and now I find him back here in my apartment on my couch.

  I’m busy typing away on my laptop when he comes up from behind, nuzzling my neck.

  “Hey, are you feeling better?” I ask, guilt oozing from my tone.

  “Yeah, much. I just needed to sleep it off. I know not to go on a roller coaster again. Confinement is a bad trigger for me, and I probably never should have agreed.” He smiles.

  Shit, now I feel even guiltier. I can understand claustrophobia; I’d like to know what made him that way—he always seems so confident. I’m surprised he’s opened up to me. He seemed too macho to admit weakness when we first met and it makes me like him even more. That was not supposed to happen, I chide myself. It’s like everything I do to push him away just draws him closer to me.

  Luc continues to kiss the side of my neck, sending tingling sensations throughout my body. I stop typing and swing my chair around to face him. He pulls me up and brings my body close to his. His hands caress my sides. This time I don’t freak out. I let things happen because he seems a bit fragile right now, and it would be selfish of me to run.

  “Let’s take a shower,” I say, my voice thick with want.

  In the bathroom he undresses me slowly, running his fingers along my bare neck and down to my breasts. We stand together under the hot, pounding water. He takes some soap and circles it in his hands, forming a rich lather. He runs his hands up and down my chest, washing me. Over my stomach, my arms, my back, and then he massages my tense shoulders. It feels good and he makes me feel wanted. It’s been a long time since someone showed me that kind of attention.

  He washes himself quickly, and I stand under the water, enjoying my view of his taut, muscular body. He enters the water with me and rinses himself off. Then he grabs my lips with his teeth. His kiss is needy, and for some reason I feel like he’s plagued by something in this moment. I become determined to brush his memory away. Maybe because I, too, am often plagued by my difficult past. I run my hands along his strong back and he pulls me in so I am flush with his body. I feel his erection pressing into me, and with all the emotions I have felt today I’m wound up tight, needing a release.