Interlude [Book 2]

by Auden Dar

  My bedroom feels smaller. I feel like I’m caged inside a coffin. I’m not ready to die. And I refuse to live this way again.

  The bedroom door opens, and I quickly place the ring box back in my bag. Standing by the doorway, looking defeated, Andrew walks toward me. He hesitates for a second before sitting next to me on our bed. Taking my hand, he holds it tightly. “When you left for New York, I never thought it would be for good. I assumed it would be for a few weeks like you were going away for work. And now that you’re back, I know that whatever we had is gone. I’m still in love with you.” He pauses for a heartbeat and I can hear the heartache in his voice. “But I have to let you go. I’m … I’m letting you go. I don’t want you to hate me years from now. And I don’t want to hate you for not loving me anymore. If I could turn back the time … I … I would have done things differently. I would have married you the minute you said yes. I would have cast my pride aside and would have adopted a child with you. I should have loved you the way you needed to be loved. I was selfish. And I’m sorry that I pushed you away.”

  I hold Andrew’s warm chestnut eyes and all I see is the boy I have loved since I was fourteen. His eyes begin to water and my heart breaks for him.

  I bite my lower lip, unable to respond with words.

  “Lina, I’ve fooled myself. I thought that if you were to come home, that if we were to go back to being the way we were years ago, you would love me again.”

  “Andrew, I still−”

  Before I can finish, he interrupts me, “I’ve ignored your needs. I’ve ignored you. More importantly, I ignored the happiness I saw on your face on your birthday.”

  I slightly tilt my head, unsure of what he just revealed. “I don’t understand. What do you mean my birthday?”

  Holding my hand tightly, Andrew releases a sigh before making his confession. “I left for New York three days before your birthday. The day before, I stood in front of your building for hours before deciding to sit on a bench across the street. I even had flowers for you. I saw you and Julian together. I didn’t think anything of it. The two of you were simply walking. Just when I was readying myself to cross the street, I watched him kiss you. And I saw you kiss him back.”

  Suddenly, the image of someone wearing a brown raincoat, sitting on a bench across the street with a bouquet in hand, and staring up at my window as rain fell the day before my birthday appears. Learning Andrew flew across the country for me on my most dreaded day of the year tugs at my heart.

  A moment of silence weighs upon us before I say, “Andrew, I still love you.”

  “I know you love me as I’ll always love you. This is hard for me to admit, but you’re in love with someone else. And I, I want you to be happy.” Andrew’s voice, the detectable hurt in his tone, pierces my heart.

  I rest my head on Andrew’s shoulder as we both weep. We continue to hold hands, clinging for as long as we can. He interrupts the silence when he admits, “Julian said he would always come back for you. I never thought much of it because he was just a young boy when he said it.”

  I allow Andrew’s admission to sink in. My heart is about to explode at the realization that the young boy who left me years ago always intended to come back for me. But this moment is bittersweet because when our hands disentangle, a part of me breaks inside.

  Unlike the first time we broke up, I’m finally letting him go.

  Letting us go.

  This is our finale− the end of our love song.

  Rising from the bed, he stares down, and all I see is regret. Wiping a running tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb, he solemnly says, “I’m going to my office. I don’t have the strength to watch you walk away because I know,” he shuts his eyes, “I know you’re leaving for good and it’s over. If, if you ever need me, if you ever … I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always love you, Lina.”

  I stand and allow him to wrap his arms around me once more. When his own tears touch my forehead, I murmur, “I’ll always love you too, Andrew. Always.” When I tilt my head up, he kisses the tears that have fallen on my cheeks before walking away and closing the door behind him.

  Forty-Two

  I take a mental inventory of items that need to be shipped. Twenty minutes pass by while I stay seated on my bed. It’s an indescribable feeling knowing my life is never going to be the same. Reaching for my phone, I scroll through my apps before selecting Lyft. I iron my black dress with my hand before rising. Glancing at my phone, I have less than ten minutes to move forward with my life.

  Even though I’m leaving to be with Julian, my tears continue to flow as I gather a few of my belongings. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, and I finally … breathe. It’s the first time in twenty-four hours that I am actually breathing life into me. Taking one last look, I close my black luggage, slip on my peep-toe shoes, and grab my bag. A little over an hour ago, I was lost, unaware of where to go and what to do.

  Although I know Andrew is heartbroken, I know we did the right thing. I love Andrew. I’ll always have a special place for him in my heart, but he deserves more than a woman in love with another man. And I deserve more than what I had with him. I want to marry the man I’m in love with. I don’t want to live through memories.

  The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” is near completion before I turn off the docking station. I feel a little lighter as I listen to the last musical notes of my lover’s favorite song. Tap. Tap. Tap. Andrew typing away in his office is the only sound I now hear. Tap. Tap. Tap. I take the photo of me with my dad from the nightstand and survey the bedroom one last time. I retrieve my phone out of the docking station along with the headphones. I scroll to another song that Julian had hummed to me daily. It’s the first time in a long time that my feet are no longer heavy. Before listening to Adele’s “Lovesong,” I walk along the hallways with purpose, mentally saying goodbye.

  I no longer hear the tapping sound of Andrew’s typewriter. Silence halts my steps. My heart stops when I hear the man I have loved for so long, crying behind closed doors. I don’t know how to say goodbye. The dull pain in my chest grows heavier, reminding me that although I’m in love with another man, I still love him. Reliving my own heartbreak was difficult, but witnessing Andrew’s heart breaking is devastating. He was my first kiss, my first dance, and will always be my first love.

  Standing in front of his office door, it takes everything in me not to open the door and comfort him. We have to let each other go. Instead, I place my palm against it allowing our goodbye to rest. My steady heartbeat begins to slow down. Resting my head against the door frame, I can barely contain myself when I whisper, “I’m so sorry, Andrew. I’m so sorry.”

  With my bags in tow, I close the door behind me, tugging it to make sure that it’s locked. I walk down the front steps as my heart leaves the man I have loved since I was fourteen years old. A trickle of rain falls. I close my eyes and raise my head; feeling different emotions as each drop hits my face.

  Sorrow.

  Forgiveness.

  Loss.

  Heartbreak.

  Love.

  “Darling.”

  My eyes open wide, and I tilt my head slightly. With my feet firmly planted, I stand in the same place in shock.

  My heart swells up. My breath catches in my throat.

  The man I’ve fallen in love with is only a few feet away from me with Mugpie at his side. We stare at one another, and as I am about to fall, he rushes to my side, catching me. My tears fall along with the raindrops, and I allow them to freely slide down my cheeks. I cry for so many reasons. I cry for hurting someone I love. I cry for letting Andrew go. I cry for letting our past go. And I cry because I’m also filled with so much love for the man before me that it hurts. He came back for me. Again. The man who will always fight for me whispers, “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall. Ever.”

  Julian continues to hold me tightly, rocking us back and forth as the rain continues to fall. Pushing the damp hair away from my f
ace, I see him. He lovingly wipes my tears before murmuring, “It’s going to hurt for a while. I’m here if you need to weep. I’m here to listen. I’m here to love you, Evangelina Darling James. Only you.”

  And my heart knows that here, with Julian and Mugpie, is where I’m supposed to be.

  Julian

  Forty-Three

  The day before …

  My heart has never been broken … until now.

  The acute pain in my chest constricts, and I feel like I’m slowly dying. Each beat of my heart falters. This emptiness envelops me, and the deafening silence in my home is a painful reminder of what I’m desperate to hear.

  Her music. Her laughter. Her moans.

  Her.

  I wait and wait for the familiar footsteps but they can’t be heard.

  Her presence is everywhere.

  Yet I can’t hold her.

  I can’t kiss her.

  I can’t whisper my love.

  Desperation hits me again, and it takes everything in me not to fall apart. I’ve waited on the sideline for years, watching the woman I love, love someone else. I can’t do that again. I can’t live that way again.

  The phone beside me buzzes, and my heart races with anticipation that it may be Lina on the other line. I deny the call when the ID reveals it’s not her.

  Perfection is an illusion. Everything was perfect until she left. I wholeheartedly believed she was mine.

  She is mine.

  My thoughts drift to the way we were last night. When I walked through the doors after my meeting, she ran to me and uttered, “I’ll always be yours.” Making love for hours, I knew that in a matter of weeks, she would become my wife. But fate can be cruel. Early this morning, she packed her bags, left in tears, and my nightmare came true.

  She didn’t have faith in me, in us.

  And she left me for him.

  I curl myself tightly into a ball, on her side of the bed, just to feel her close. That sweet scent of hers still lingers in my pillowcase. And although it comforts me, it also tortures me.

  How could she not have known that our time together was never meant to be less than forever?

  I wasn’t a fool and knew she still loved Andrew. I respected her shared history with him. Her ex-fiancé was a temporary obstacle. Now, I’m not too sure.

  I curse myself for replaying our time together. I recall the sound of her breathing when she’s wrapped in my arms at night. It was a melody that lulled me to sleep. I picture the curve of her lips when she’s ready to smile. I hear her voice when she says my name. I can actually feel her, although she’s no longer by my side.

  In the loneliness of my bedroom, I imagine her with him. And I break down, allowing myself to finally cry. How could loving someone inflict so much unbearable pain?

  One hour, sixteen minutes, and twenty seconds have passed since Lina left our home. Every few minutes, my unbearable thoughts have been interrupted by Miss Pendleton’s presence. Standing over my bed, trying to assess the damage love has done to me, she says with concern, “Just making sure you haven’t jumped off the terrace, dear.” She’s been a voyeur all these years having watched me fall in love for the first and only time in my life. And now, she’s a witness to me falling apart.

  With my head on the pillow, although I will my eyes to close, I’m unable to stop staring at the ceiling. Miss Pendleton touches my cheek with the pad of her thumb, waiting for me to say something. What can I offer? My world just ended an hour and a half ago. She places a cup of Earl Grey tea on the nightstand, only a few inches from where a framed photo of Lina with Mugpie stands. Picking up the framed photo, she sighs. Before she leaves me for the fifth time this morning, she whispers, “Julian, have faith, my boy. That girl loves you. She will return.”

  I utter, “I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t,” before reaching for my phone that sits on my bed. I instantly hit Cecelia’s number. With the second ring, my assistant greets me in her usual happy tone. How does she manage to be happy all the time? “I need help with Lina’s flight.”

  Because she knows me too well, she senses I don’t share her good mood. “What’s wrong, Julian?”

  I immediately instruct her, “She’s flying back to LA in the next hour or so, and most likely taking Virgin. Please upgrade her ticket.”

  “Is there anything else I need to know?” Cecelia inquires.

  “Yes. She left me for her ex-fiancé,” I spit out.

  Cecelia Armstrong, my assistant of five years, never hesitates to voice her opinion. “Then why the fuck are you still at home? Why aren’t you on the same flight as her, begging her to stay with you?”

  I rub my temple. “Because I’ve already begged.” I got down on my knees and cried like a baby. “I’ve pleaded, and she doesn’t believe I’m ready to commit.” I was a fool for not being completely honest with her. “My past indiscretions have come back to haunt me. And although I’ve broken it off with all these women, she still doesn’t believe me.” Why would she? “One in particular has actually harassed her by sending a photo.”

  “What photo? You haven’t approved any photos.”

  “It’s a photo of Shira and me.” I feel sick just saying her name.

  “Damn that crazy bitch. I told you she was cray-cray.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I warned you. I told you that Shira is Fatal Attraction crazy. Did I not?” Cecelia’s Southern accent is now thick, laced with concern.

  “I don’t need a lecture. She’s still sending me texts although I haven’t responded to her in any way for several months. I’ll have to file a restraining order. And Cecelia, I haven’t given up. I’ll wait a few more days for her to come around. I need her to realize we’re meant to be.” I finally slip out of my bed, the same bed where Lina and I consummated our love. An image of her sprawled out, waiting for me to devour her, hits me. The knowledge that I’m the only person who has ever tasted her should make me feel victorious. But defeat consumes me.

  All I ever wanted to win was Lina James’ heart.

  Struggling, I make my way to the wraparound terrace. The image of her enjoying her favorite cupcake flashes before my eyes. And the sound of her Betty Rubble-like laughter saddens me. I can still feel her warmth as we danced the night away to “Wonderful Tonight.” This is where she belongs, here with me.

  Cecelia interrupts my thoughts when she reminds me that I’m scheduled to fly to London tomorrow. “Roman James’ lawyer has left another message.”

  A few minutes go by as I pull myself together. Up until a few hours ago, I had been living in a state of complete bliss. Picking up my phone, I call the only man who has been a father to me.

  “Julian, good morning.” Father’s voice is still weak from his cardiac arrest. Fortunately, he evaded having a stroke.

  “How are you feeling?” Due to a pain in my heart, my own voice is weak.

  “I’m well. My affairs are in order and I can leave tomorrow. Julian, what’s troubling you?” he asks.

  It takes a few seconds to admit, “Lina left me. She left a few hours ago for LA.”

  Father is silent when I confess, “She doesn’t believe I’m able to commit to her. She thinks that because I left her a few months ago …”

  “We should have told her, Julian,” he says with regret.

  “It would break her heart.” I deadpan.

  A few long seconds go by. “Julian,” Father says solemnly, “she has the right to know.”

  I close my eyes, and if it means losing the only woman I have ever loved, then I’ll keep the secret close to my heart. “She can never know.”

  “Julian,” he says sternly. “She needs to know the reason you left her.”

  “She knows about Mum’s death. She knows it all,” I offer.

  “No,” he interjects. “She needs to know why you left her after her birthday.”

  “Father, she can never know. Please, please understand that would break her heart. She’ll never recover from it. I would r
ather lose her than have her know.”

  “How can you move forward?”

  “I can’t. I need to find a way to get her back, but she can never know,” I say matter-of-factly.

  “Roman has the right to a proper burial with his daughter present.”

  “He had asked that she never know as well,” I remind him and think about what had transpired a few months ago.

  A barrister from London had insisted on speaking with me. When I returned his call, he proclaimed that his client, who should remain anonymous, had a sizable amount of money in a trust to purchase an iconic piece by Munsch. The client instructed that I be the one to purchase on his behalf. And once purchased, the pastel would be gifted to a Miss Evangelina Darling James. Without having to reveal his client’s name, I knew without a doubt it could only be Roman James. But the Roman James I knew had died in a car accident.

  After some prodding, I learned that a Roman Asperovich was a client of his. A client who could not be reached, and no other information had been provided.

  Money can provide anonymity. Anyone with means can disappear. And Lina’s father had done exactly that for seventeen years.

  The morning after Lina’s thirtieth birthday, I received an urgent call from Roman’s attorney. His client agreed to see me immediately and requested that I go alone.

  The man I had admired as a child laid in bed, welcoming death like a long lost friend. Quickly succumbing to pancreatic cancer, Roman knew his time was limited.

  Anger, sadness, confusion−emotions surfaced as I watched my father’s best mate confess. He didn’t have the courage to see his best friend. He loved his daughter too much to admit the truth; he left her when she needed him the most.

  Within the four walls of his hospital room, Roman only revealed, “Leaving Lina was the only way to protect her.” The message was clear, and I didn’t need to press him.