He looks down. Not at me. He looks down at the floor.
He could leave them. Or I could leave him.
Leaving Alexei is a terrifying thought. But, right now, it’s much more terrifying to think that one day, very soon, I will wake up, and I will be forty. And then, in the blink of an eye, I’m going to befifty. And by then it will be too late for me—too late for me if I stay with a man who doesn’t want a family. Would we start to hate each other? I’d hate him because I’d given up everything I’ve always wanted to be with him. He’d hate me because, no matter what else he might give me, I’d never be satisfied. I’d always want the thing I didn’t have.
The thing he doesn’t want to have.
The fact that I might have to make that choice literally feels heartbreaking. But he’s unwilling to budge on this. He’s unwilling to see how much this means to me. I’m not doing this to make some kind of statement. I’m doing this because I literally feel like my back is against the wall.
I’m doing this because I don’t see any other way out.
His eyes lower, settle back onto mine.
I see the hardness there. I see the unwillingness to even consider. It only makes me feel as though I need to push this harder. It makes me want to fight for me, for him, for us. But I feel like I’m fighting alone. And alone, it’s not a fight I think I can win.
I say it. I say the thing I should have been saying everyday, every hour, every minute until he might believe it. I say the thing I want to whisper into a prayer. The thing I know he needs to believe about himself, the thing he doesn’t think is possible. The thing that is, and always has been, at the center of our contention.
“Alexei. You could leave them.”
People change. People change their jobs, and people change their lives. They do it all of the time. Why does Alexei feel this way, like he can’t change, like he is always going to have to be the thing he has always been? Why doesn’t he see the man I see when I look at him, a man who is literally capable of doing anything he sets his mind to? Why does he only see bars, why does he only see the past, his past, and not our present, and not our future? It’s like a blind spot he can’t make himself see past, even if wants to.
His jaw tightens. I know those words are earthquakes for Alexei. Those words are fire and they are brimstone, they are words that burn the bridge between himself and his past. But without those words, without that possibility, does he even realize that he is burning the bridge to our future? I can see it in his eyes. Either he doesn’t believe he can do it, or he can’t make himself do it to them. I have an idea of how much Alexei does for them, I do. And it’s not like I don’t believe his absence won’t cause a vacuum. But he’s given so much. He’s given...
“You’ve given them enough, Alexei. You’ve given them everything. And now you’re willing to give away our whole future.” Rising from where I’m seated, I look down at him. I can’t stop the tears that are glittering in my eyes but I won’t let them fall. “You’re willing to give me away.” My voice lowers. I want to take his face between my hands. I want to look up into his eyes. I move nearer. I want to reach for him. “Don’t give them us, Alexei.”
“I don’t,” he says. He doesn’t what? There is the rumble of something sure in his voice, in his words. “I don’t want to lose you, Radiah.”
“You don’t want to lose me,” I repeat. “But you won’t even consider this. You won’t consider this even though I’m telling you how important it is to me. You won’t consider it even though I’m telling you, Alexei—you will lose me. You are losing me. Right now. You’re losing me. And I’m losing you.”
Again, his eyes shadow. His eyes lower into half closing. He is silent. His chest rises, like he is struggling inside of himself, like he is trying to find enough air. Then, his eyes open. His eyes are hard. “I can’t, Radiah.” His shoulders square. His eyes go dark, they are touched with something that seems almost like pleading. I’ve never seen him look this way.“How can I turn my back on them?”
I’ve never seen him look this way, but it’s not enough. “Fine.” I turn; I storm through the living room and into the bedroom. Yanking at the closet door, I pull out one of my small suitcases. Blindly, I throw a few clothes in, things I will need for work. I grab my makeup bag from the restroom and toss it too. I can hardly get the zipper to work, my hands are shaking so much. I can come back later and get the rest. Right now, I just need to go. I need to go before I say something, before I do something I will regret. I don’t want this to escalate. I don’t want this to end badly.
I still can’t even believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m ending this.
I don’t think Alexei can believe it either. I can feel his shock. I can hear it in his voice. Only a few minutes ago, we were in bed together. But he also knows this is something I’ve been trying to ignore for a long time. This isn’t the first time I’ve brought it up to him.
But it might be the last time.
Behind me, Alexei says, “Don’t. Radiah. Don’t just leave. We can work this out.”
Whirling, I shout at him, “Don’t? Can we? How can we work something out when you refuse to even consider what I’m saying? You say how can you turn your back on them when what you should be asking yourself is how can you turn your back on me? How can you turn your back on us? You’re asking me to choose between you and the life I’ve always wanted. You want to me to give up everything while you just keep on doing what you want to do. I want a family, Alexei. I wanted a family with you. I wanted your babies. But you won’t even try. Worse than that, you won’t even consider trying. I don’t—” I need to pause, to breathe deeply. I need to find a way to steady myself.
I take three long, deep breaths.
When I talk again, my voice is a little more even. “I don’t know what to do when it’s not even something you’re willing to talk about.” Closing my eyes, I draw another deep breath. The pain of it all is making me say things I don’t even believe are entirely true, but right now, it’s too hard to believe they aren’t true too. In one sense, I know he loves me. In another, he’s not willing to show it in the one way it matters most. He’s not willing to put us first. He’s not willing to take the next step. He wants things to stay the same, to stay the way they are now. And things staying the way they are now isn’t something I can do.
I can’t. I know that now. All of the times I’ve held my tongue, all of the times I’ve made myself subjugate my needs to his, are all coming out of me now. Bleeding out of me now. It’s something I can’t staunch, can’t control, and can’t stop.
“It’s my fault, I guess. Maybe I should have realized sooner that I wasn’t important enough. Maybe I should have realized that we weren’t important enough to you.”
Opening my eyes again, I grab down at the bag. I don’t like that I’ve said that. I don’t like feeling this irrational. I don’t like this feeling this pain... I don’t look at him as I march past him, I can’t look at him; looking at him breaks my heart. Right now, going is the only thing that will make this stop.
“Radiah.” He talks as I move past him. His words are quiet. Troubled. “You’re asking me to choose between you and the only family I’ve ever had.”
I feel him reaching for me and I jerk forward. “And you’re asking me to choose between you and the family I’ve always wanted. I guess we’re both choosing everything else but each other. So. Please. Don’t touch me. Don’t call me. Just stay away from me, Alexei. If you don’t want me. If you don’t want us…If you can’t give me yourself, then the least you can do is let me learn how to let you go. The least you could do is to let me walk away. And find someone who wants...”
My voice breaks. It’s a horrifying thing. I know I’m really on the verge of tears now.
I can’t handle it. I can’t handle this.
Pulling the door wide, I leave. I know the bodyguards are watching me and I know that even they don’t have the courage to ask me if I need help carrying my bag. There is no
thing in me that says anything but the anger and the frustration I’m feeling. In another frame of mind, I might have found it funny, the fact that I’m intimidating two huge men but, right now, nothing is funny. If I look either one of them in the eyes, I’m pretty sure I will burst into tears.
I’m pretty sure that if Alexei opens the door and calls for me, I’m going to burst into tears.
I’m pretty sure that, even if nothing happens, I’m going to burst into tears.
Thankfully, the elevator is still on my floor and when I push the button to go down, the doors open immediately.
I wait for the doors to close before I turn around.
I don’t burst into tears. It’s a close call though. A close call that I’m still fighting against as the elevator starts to drop down. I make sure to keep my eyes off of the mirror. I don’t want to see my own eyes, not right now.
I did it. I’ve done it. I’ve done the thing I’ve known for a long time I might have to end up doing. This is my life, the only one for sure I know I will have. There are things I’m not willing to give up, not even for the man I love with all of my heart.
And I can’t let myself look back. I can’t let myself look back because I can’t decide whether I want to run as fast as I can to get away from him, or whether I want to turn around to run.
Radiah
I give Eric the briefest, and fakest, of smiles on my way out. I know he’s surprised to see me now, and is even more surprised, I’m sure, to see the bag slung over my shoulder, but I’m not in the mood to stop and explain. My face goes red as I walk out past him; I know he’s watching me, wondering. Once I’m out front on the sidewalk I’m not sure where to go. I’m not sure where I want to go. I could get a hotel room for the night, and it’s probably what I’ll end up doing. Tonight, I don’t even feel like talking to Carla. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I don’t even feel like looking at anyone. All I want is dark, and quiet.
But, for the moment, standing on the sidewalk with the cars honking and the people walking by, I feel unsure of everything. There are too many lights and there is too much noise and it feels overwhelming. I just want to sit, to take a minute. Get my bearings. Breathe.
I start walking. I feel aimless in more ways than one. I feel like my pain is written all over my face and I wonder if the glitter of unshed tears in my eyes are as obvious as I feel like they are. I hope they aren’t. It makes me feel a little vulnerable. It’s not a feeling I’m used to. I think I’ve held in so many feelings for so long they all want to come out of me all at once. I don’t want to be walking down the street when they do come out.
Maybe I don’t want them to all come out at all though, and at least in public, I know I will keep fighting them back. If I’m alone, I think I’m afraid all of the walls will come down all at once. That’s more than a little terrifying.
Maybe that’s why I end up walking into the bar down the street. I haven’t been here before, but I’ve passed it by many times. It’s a small place, warm with low lighting and soft talking. I just want to sit. I want a drink. I’m not a drinker, but this is different. Tonight is different. I can use this place to keep some of my public face even though, really, I’m alone. Alone in the crowd.
I left him. I left him. I keep repeating it to myself to somehow make it more real. In my heart I’d thought Alexei and I would be together forever. In my heart, I’d thought he’d get down on one knee one day, would ask me to marry him.
I would have said yes. If only.
You’re asking me to give up the only family I’ve ever had, he’d said.
Five years. Five years I’ve given to a man who doesn’t want me enough to even consider a future together. My entire twenties are behind me. I’m almost halfway through my thirties. I know people are starting families older and older. But it’s not like Alexei had said “Let’s wait awhile.” He hadn’t said “Let’s give it some time, Radiah.”
What he’d said was “No.”
If he would at least entertain the idea. Just meet me halfway and really talk about it instead of just saying no. If it could just be something we anguished over together, a pain and a tribulation we faced together. If only he could take my hands and tell me “I want those things with you too, Radiah. I want them so much and I just don’t know how to make those things happen. If we could face that together, could work through it, could find a way to make our different worlds somehow move closer together...”
But his answer had been so clear. No. I can hear him say it, with that brusque, utter unwillingness to even consider...
The bartender passes by on the other side of the counter. He’s a tall man, balding at his temples and bearing the friendly kind of smile I think must be a requisite for all bartenders. There’s probably a class in bartender school (is there such a thing as bartender school?), a class titled...how to smile in the friendliest of ways and make your patrons smile back at you like you’re a long lost friend even when they really feel like sobbing.
“Another drink, miss?”
I nod yes to him. He flashes the patented ‘it’s going to be alright’ smile then moves off behind the counter to fill my order. All of the soft murmurs of a multitude of conversations make me feel like I’m in another world. A world I’m not a part of anymore. I’m alone. The man at the other end of the bar is making it clear I don’t have to be that way...but his attention isn’t the kind of attention I want. I’m not looking for another man. If there’s anything I can’t stand it’s being stared at after I’ve made it clear I’m not looking back. What I want…
The bartender slides my drink across the counter. I barely look up to nod my thanks. Even the way he’s smiling at me isn’t making me feel any better anymore. I’m thirty-four. I’m alone. My life is a mess. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of having seems so far out of reach I feel like I’m a complete and utter failure. I have my career, and I feel blessed for it, but a career isn’t the kind of thing that makes someone feel alive. A career isn’t where the heart is.
My heart feels empty. Lonely. My stomach feels hollow. I wish I had somewhere I could go. Somewhere I could go to feel warm, to not feel so alone. Right now, not even Carla feels like a warm, safe place. I rarely even drink at all, but tonight I want to drink enough to make myself stop feeling.
I just want to stop feeling.
I just want to stop thinking about what I want.
What I want...
The scent of something deep and musky makes me look up. A shadow falls as a man steps up to the bar beside me. I’m not used to really looking at other men. I’ve only had eyes for Alexei for so long. But something about this man makes me really look at him.
Maybe I look because, to put it very simply, this man is absolutely gorgeous. Stunning, even. Big, not as big as Alexei, but big built, and dark haired, and dark eyed. He’s dressed in a suit jacket and slacks, and his jaw is clean shaven. When he turns to look down at me, his deep brown eyes are sparkling. There’s a hint of a smirk, a hint of a smile.
“Good evening,” he says. And then he adds, “Ciao.”
He has a thick accent. Italian, I think. Ciao is Italian, right? Maybe bonjour is Italian. To be honest, I can’t remember. And I’m surprised to feel a small stir of interest flutter through my stomach, and even more surprised to feel myself beginning to smile. Just a moment ago, the idea of smiling anytime soon, let alone right now, seemed like a foreign thing. I hadn’t expected to smile for a long time and, here I was, already smiling.
“Hi. That’s...ciao?” I tried to remember the little Italian I’d heard before, but even then, I couldn’t be sure. “That’s hello in Italian, right?”
He nods his affirmation and then glances down at the stool beside mine. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Shrugging, surprised but not displeased by the idea, I allow my small smile to widen a little more. Why not? Even though talking is the last thing on my mind, something about his eyes, something about his smile, is making me smile too, when smiling is th
e last thing I’d thought I’d be doing tonight. “No.” I nod to the stool. “Please.” I didn’t think I was in mood for company and I’m not sure I’m going to be good company for anyone at all tonight but, I consider, at least in this moment, this man is taking my mind off of things. Sitting and sulking has never been something I’ve been good at. Maybe a distraction is what I need. And really, he’s such a handsome distraction. I mean, damn, he looks like he’s just stepped out of Maxim, or GQ, or off of some Paris runway.
“Thank you.” He slides onto the stool and then he holds his hand out to me. “A pleasure to meet you. Emilio,” he says. “Emilio Peroni.”
Holding my hand back to him, I smile again as he lightly takes my fingers into his. It’s the kind of thing I’ve only seen done on movies. It’s so European. “Pleased to meet you too,” I echo. “I’m Radiah.” I give my name in return. “Radiah Carlton.”
Emilio nods. His fingers drop lightly from mine, lingering a little longer at the fingertips. Something seems to trouble him, and he says, “If you don’t mind me saying so, you look a little sad, Radiah Carlton.”
Her Designer Baby: (Loving Over 40 Book 1) Page 17
