by Jaycee Ford
“Ellie, baby, please …”
“You danced with me at the fest. That was pretty public.”
“The public was drunk, El.”
“Oh … okay … okay … I see. I’m only good enough to show off to the drunks.”
“Ellie, that’s not—”
“Get out.” Her words punched my gut.
“Ellie, no … no, I won’t leave.” I stepped toward her and she stepped back, pushing away from me. I died inside. The one thing keeping my heart alive was pulling away from me, and I could not stop it.
“It’s over, Paul. I mean it. I will not be treated this way. You started this whole thing by only texting and never calling, and then when we finally do start to talk on the phone, you toss me aside after one day of not hearing from me. The next I see you, you have Angela draped all over you. Then, you finally want me, but only to yourself! I can’t even tell the one friend I have so it doesn’t get back to her boyfriend! That is not fair! I will not be treated like some ugly whore that you only fuck and toss aside!”
“Ellie, please—”
“Out!”
The cold that had once vanished came back with a vengeance. Ice froze my veins; my heart stopped pumping. Tears glazed over my eyes as hers ran down her face in sheets. I couldn’t put my arms around her. I had no claim over her. She wasn’t mine. I had lost her.
I lost her.
To save any last shred of dignity, I fled down the stairs and shut the door behind me. I didn’t slam it as she slammed me out of her life. I just clicked it closed, like an echo into her heart; my faint, whispered attempt of saying that I would leave, but my quiet departure wasn’t for good. I would find a way back inside. I would break the door down with the surrounding wall and get back into her heart. This wasn’t over. My love for Ellie would never die.
MY WHOLE REASON for being here was gone. My life was consumed by emptiness in my vacant apartment. Bags lined the stairwell, awaiting my departure. I could not stay here. I could not be in the same place as the man who tossed me aside. I was only good for one thing, and if all I wanted was that one thing, I would have never left New York.
The seamstress I had hired not too long ago would now be the manager in charge at Ellie’s Boutique. I needed time away from this town, away from the memories that brought agony. At least I now knew the answer to “what if,” which I had asked myself all of those months ago while standing in the middle of Times Square, celebrating a new year of new opportunities. It was a ridiculous plan. I should have stayed in New York and dated Gianni. At least he wanted to take me out.
A car horn blared from the back of the store. I grabbed my bags and headed downstairs, unsure of when I would return. A knock rapped on the door as I came to the landing. When I reached the door, a chauffeur tipped his hat in the early morning light.
“Car service to Charlotte Douglas International Airport.”
I answered with a nod and a polite smile. It was the first smile since before I saw Paul last, and with the mere thought of him, the smile vanished. The chauffeur handled the bigger suitcases while I hauled a few bags. I nestled in the backseat for the drive. I was thankful for the first time that I didn’t own a car. I didn’t feel like driving. I stared out of the window and watched everything I had worked for the past year drift away. I didn’t say a word to the driver. The sound of the partition gliding between us whirred as the tears started to fall again.
• • •
My feet touched Yankee ground for the first time in three months, and the massive amount of people brought me back to the reality that was New York. I pushed my cart forward through the dozens of chauffeurs holding up signs for their passengers. I continued through to stand in the taxi line, but a sign caught my eye. It wasn’t the normal black and white of the other drivers. A bright yellow sign with pink letters spelled out, Belle. My eyes lifted to the man holding the sign. A smile eased up my cheeks as tears rolled down my face. In three quick steps, Gianni scooped me up in a hug, and for the first time in weeks, peace eased into the last remaining bits of my soul.
“Shh … don’t cry. It’s going to be okay,” he whispered in my ear, but I didn’t listen to him. I buried my head in his suit, and sobbed in silence. He pulled me away from his chest and wiped my tears. He adjusted my sunglasses from the top of my head to my nose. “No raccoon eyes today. Not when the city has missed you.”
He pushed the cart as I clung to his arm. We arrived at a hired car, and as the chauffeur placed all of my bags in the trunk, Gianni and I sat in the backseat. Within two seconds, he had pulled me to his side, wrapping his arms around me.
“I’m so sorry, belle.”
I shook my head as I pulled away from his shoulder and stared at him through the dark frames. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t lose my business. I’ll go back soon, even if it’s just to sell it.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry about Paul.”
I turned away and stared at the clock, not acknowledging the time. “To be honest, he was never really mine. I wasn’t good enough for him.”
He turned my jaw with force toward him and pushed my sunglasses up.
“You … are too good for him. Don’t you ever, ever think less of yourself. If he isn’t proud enough to call you his, then fuck him. No man is deserving enough for you, but every man would be honored to call you his. Including myself.” He pulled my head toward him and brushed his lips against my forehead. As I leaned my head against his shoulder, he continued, “Now, how about the comfort of Lombardi’s pizza.”
My heart broke into a thousand pieces. “Anywhere but there.”
• • •
Rich red walls surrounded me as I sat at a large, dark mahogany table, unknowingly inviting myself to a dinner party of my stepfather’s colleagues. Two weeks had gone by since I fled to the city, and by the looks of the attorneys around the table, my mother had figured it was best I moved on. Not quite the etiquette standard I was taught, but my mother and I sat at the heads of the table. My stepfather, George, sat to my mother’s right as Aiden, Dean, and Sawyer filled the rest of the chairs. I only found Sawyer intriguing due to his name, but they all looked the same. All had brown hair with different shades of brown eyes. Sawyer’s were hidden behind glasses. University names of Cornell, Harvard, and Stanford were thrown around as if those were schools that everyday people attended. I stared at the millions of dollars sitting around me, and they still didn’t equal the worth of one cowboy, who lived in a tiny mill house on the outskirts of a small town.
Dinner resumed. I remained quiet and kept to myself. I didn’t much care for this bizarre form of The Bachelorette. I shook hands with all of the men as they departed and received a business card from Sawyer with the classic line, “Call me if you ever need anything.”
I smiled, feigning appreciation. I would say maybe in another lifetime, but my soul nagged at me. It would only ever belong to Paul. My shoulders deflated as the door closed. One day I would get over him. Ten years didn’t seem long enough, but maybe, in another ten, it wouldn’t sting so badly. One could hope, at least.
“Ellie, darling,” my mother began.
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t prepared to hand out the proverbial rose to any of them, and I didn’t intend on doing so ever. “Yes, Mother.”
“What did you think of those men?” she asked.
I groaned until comforting hands rested on my shoulders.
“Glenda, I told you this was too soon. Don’t push her.” George squeezed my shoulders and whispered to me, “The heart will know when it’s ready.”
My chest clenched with pain. It was my heart’s way of reminding me that it wasn’t ready. I always listened to it; except that one time I yelled at the man I loved and told him to leave. My heart was too numb at that point to speak quickly enough and my head took over. I hated the stubbornness of my brain.
“I think all of the wine got to me. I believe I’ll turn in,” I said before letting more tears fall.
My stepfathe
r kissed the side of my head, and then my mother kissed both of my cheeks as I left them in their living room. I departed for my wing of their penthouse, which I lived in before I went to high school in North Carolina and for a few years while in design school. I had a sitting room with a mini-kitchen area, including a small fridge, sink, and microwave, a large bed, and a divine tub in my bathroom.
I sat on the sofa in front of the television and stared at the black screen as if something important was on, but nothing was important. I couldn’t find the strength to care. I did the one thing I could think of that could help me. I reached for my phone on the end table, and after swiping the screen, I scrolled through my contacts, finding the one that could help.
I need you.
• • •
A knock echoed through my room. I smoothed down the satin camisole and wrapped the matching short robe around me. I pressed my hand to my stomach, calming the butterflies that erupted, and walked to the door. As soon as I twisted the knob, Gianni barged in.
“Are you okay, belle?” He pulled me to his chest, and as I wrapped my arms around him, I took notice of the muscles beneath my fingertips.
“Much better now that you’re here,” I mumbled into his chest.
He pressed his lips to my forehead as he always did. I took advantage of the moment and tilted my head up, locking eyes with him. His eyes broke from my stare to linger on my lips. I eased up on my toes and kissed him. He did not respond with the first peck or the second. However, when I kissed him a third time and pulled his lip to my mouth, he gave in. My brain had taken over, knowing that I needed this, while my heart was chained up and gagged, unable to make a sound.
Gianni wrapped my legs around his waist and carried us to the sofa. I straddled him and writhed on top of him as his fingers threaded through my hair. His lips pressed to my neck, and my heart began to be heard. I didn’t weaken when he kissed the spot that Paul did. His hands caressed my chest, and then down my sides, grabbing my hips.
“Ellie, stop.”
My hands grazed down his chest, ignoring his command. “No.”
“Ellie, you love Paul. Stop,” he ordered, yet I ignored him, grabbed his belt, and started to unbuckle it.
“I need this. Please. It’s just fucking. Just fuck me, please.”
He grabbed my hands and pulled them away, holding them between us and jerking me out of my stupor.
“No, belle. I can’t. It would be more than that to me, and I can’t do it.”
I broke down and cried into his chest as he held me.
“I’m so sorry, Gianni.”
He cooed into my ear, whispering calm and peaceful words as I cried, and to make matters worse, my phone rang—as it did every night at this time. Voicemails were left on occasion, stating that my voice needed to be heard, but I never returned the call.
Gianni picked up my phone and asked, “How often does he call?”
“Every day.” I sniffled, wiping the tears away.
He made no qualms about answering the phone.
“Please tell me why you constantly call the girl you didn’t care enough for to keep.”
I blinked as I sat up in shock.
“No, you listen to me. Any man would be proud to call Ellie his girlfriend. I tried for months, only to be turned down so she could be with you. And when she finally needs me, you have to call and bring her to tears.” He wiped my face and shrugged his shoulders. I knew what he was doing and I loved my friend for it.
“I don’t know if she’s coming back. She shouldn’t. I’ll do my damnedest to make her happy here. Lord knows I would treat her better.” He glanced at me again and I knew it was true. He would do everything he could to put a smile on my face, but he also knew that he could never compete with Paul.
“Stop calling.” He tapped the screen and ended the call.
I sobbed and he pulled me to him.
“You know what man you need?” he asked. I shook my head. He couldn’t wipe away the tears fast enough. “You need your father.”
THE BEAT ECHOED around me, lights flashing in every direction. A strobe pulsed to the rhythm of sex and to the phrase “makin’ it rain.” Women of all types gyrated up and down slick poles with only a string separating their bodies from the world. I stared at a pair of long legs wrapped around the pole in a death grip as a blonde slid upside down, pinching her nipples for a hopeful Benjamin. When she met the ground, she crawled on her hands and knees in my direction. A glint in her eye beckoned me forward—a plea to get off my perch and go to her, to allow her to give me my wildest fantasies. The glitter shimmered across her bare breasts. Any man would be on his knees, begging for mercy. I stared with no yearning need. I tried though. I tried to find any other woman half as desirable as my girl, but I couldn’t. The fact that I still considered her mine was the biggest problem. I wouldn’t allow my heart to accept that she was gone, because I knew that she would come back.
I spun around on the stool and faced the bar, giving up on the view of the golden, naked temptress, and pulled out my phone. I followed the routine that I had come to know since she banished me from her life. I scrolled through the few photos of her that I had taken during the little bit of time we had shared together: the dawning light caressing her face as the morning awakened us in a field of grass, a couple so happy in a budding relationship dancing under the stars, her laughing smile, her dreaming. I shook my head as I closed the app and dialed her number again—as I had every night. Only once had this phone been answered and that stupid suit thought he could scare me off, but he didn’t understand cowboys. Cowboys didn’t run away; they grabbed on tighter.
“Hi! It’s Ellie! Leave a message!”
The recording soothed my heart for almost the millionth time since we were apart; although, it seemed as if my constant phone calls were almost a game now. She would not answer, and I would keep calling. Sometimes I would leave a message. Sometimes I would not. I shot back the whiskey in front of me, and decided to leave a message after the beep.
“Ellie … baby ...” I heaved out a sigh. “I’m not giving up on us. Do you hear me? I know it’s loud in here, but you need to know. You need to listen to me. I’m not giving up on us. Come back and I will prove it to you.”
Beep.
I wasn’t done. I dialed again.
“Hi! It’s Ellie! Leave a message!”
“Come back home, Ellie. I will announce it in the town paper and in the church bulletin. I will walk down the street and scream into a megaphone that you’re my girl. I’ve wanted you my whole damn life, El. I’ve wanted us fo—”
Beep.
“Goddammit!”
“Hi! It’s Ellie! Leave a message!”
“I will tell Lance, El. I will tell him. It will break his heart and ruin our friendship, but I will tell him because I want to be with you. You’re the only one I have ever wanted to be with.” I paused to comprehend all that I was saying. “Just come home …”
Beep.
• • •
Deep blue eyes studied me as he held the phone to his ear. I looked out across the Atlantic Ocean, contemplating my next move. Would it be wise to go back to my shop with the memories of the man I loved, or perhaps, would it be better here with my dad in Myrtle Beach?
He moved the phone away from his ear, tapped the screen, and proceeded to the next message. The phone rang three times moments after midnight last night. After a few minutes went by without another call, I listened to the messages—all three of them. My heart broke with every desperate drawl that came out of his mouth.
I’m not giving up on us.
I’ve wanted you my whole damn life, El.
You’re the only one I have ever wanted to be with.
A tear threatened to sneak out from behind my sunglasses. I wiped it with the end of my long-sleeved T-shirt as the ocean breeze chilled the early October air. Waves of dark blue slid up the beach, coming close to my wooden lounging chair and then pulling back. I watched it roar as it came and
went again. Just like Paul. He would come and go from my life. He would beg and plead, but just as the water surrounded my feet, the sand would give way. As soon as my feet sank in the quick sand of the seawater, the water would retreat, leaving me to pull myself out again. I was in too deep, but he was always able to pull me with him into the sea. I would willingly swim with him into uncharted waters if it meant that he would always be by my side. Could I risk my heart one more time? The little of it that was left?
Dad placed the phone on the armrest of my chair. He reached over and grabbed my hand, and as he gave it a gentle squeeze, he released a sighing breath. “What are you gonna do, El?”
I shook my head as I answered the most honest answer I had ever had in my life. “I don’t know.”
“He seems to love you.” His statement caused my head to turn to the man, and stare at him as if he had grown three heads. He chuckled, his laughter rolling in the breeze. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t still be this determined. It has been weeks.” I nodded. Not accepting them, just acknowledging them. “It’s time for you go to back, Ellie.”
I heaved a sigh, looking away from him. The ocean rolled in front of me. If anything, I needed closure and maybe a shred of hope.
“It’s time for me to go back.”
• • •
The last of my bags lay just up the stairs. After I carried all of the accumulated mail back up, I walked across my living area toward the kitchen. I wouldn’t bother looking for food. I tossed everything before I left. I breathed out as I laid the mail on my counter. I had been gone for almost a month, and now, as the Sunday morning October sun shone through my window, I stared across the empty apartment. The emptiness seeped into my chest. I didn’t have the guts to see him. I didn’t have the guts to respond to his voice, but I had heard his voice every day since I left. I played his messages repeatedly, not deleting one of them. I needed the reminder that he somehow still needed me. I cringed every time the thoughts of our breakup came into mind. I didn’t know why I was so toxic to Paul, but I knew him enough to believe that he didn’t think of me as an ugly whore—as I had so eloquently put it.
