Lies In Rewind

by Tali Alexander

  Emily and Louis are coming into town this weekend and I can’t wait for us to go out and catch up. I’m excited to finally start dating one of my former clients, Danny, a super sweet guy with whom I’ve been texting back and forth for over a month. Today is the one-year anniversary of my eviction from Gavin’s place and thus a turning point in my life. I’m at a beautiful place right now and in a weird way, I have him to thank for kick starting me into a different lifestyle. I’ve finally stopped looking for someone to love me in order to validate my existence and I enjoy being on my own.

  I talk to Jeffery once a week to find out how JJ are doing. He is where he belongs, with the woman and family he loves, and I will be okay one day. I don’t resent Jacqueline anymore, I respect her and thank her for being nurturing to the many people we love in common. I think she’s grateful to me in a fucked-up way for walking away and letting her keep her husband and children, and for not making a bad situation infinitely worse. I also, for the first time in my life, love my job and enjoy the people I work with. Eddie and Michelle promised to come spend New Year’s Eve with me and I may go back to visit my folks for Thanksgiving if my work schedule allows it.

  I honestly can’t complain about a thing. Well, that’s a lie. I can complain about being possessed by a person I met for five minutes and know nothing about, but it wouldn’t do me any good. Time will heal everything, even my hopes to one day belong to Liam Knight. Emily brings him up all the time and I know they speak, which makes me extremely jealous, but this too shall pass. I know I shouldn’t care, but I’m proud of Liam for making amends with Louis. I wish him well; however, I try to ensure I never hear about who he’s with from Emily. I don’t need a reminder of what’s not mine. I told Em that I would prefer she not speak about him unless absolutely necessary because it hurts too much to pretend that I don’t care, and she understands. I did enough research about him and Isabella to know exactly which hotels his family owns in London and around the world, and I will do my darnedest to never step foot in any of them.

  I have this recurring dream that he and I bump into each other on the street and when our eyes meet, I always wake up. I wonder if I enter his thoughts as much as he invades mine? I wonder who gets to call him Liam and if he fixes her hair constantly? When I’m weak and lonely, I let myself enjoy his memory for a few moments of bliss before I talk myself back to reality. I still can’t decide if it would’ve been better or worse if we’d actually had sex almost a year ago.

  I’ve decided to treat myself to a special gift today. No one, not even Jeffery, has ever bought me a piece of jewelry, so I’ve elected to splurge and buy myself something ridiculously expensive and beautifully special to celebrate my emotional independence and for not telling a lie for a whole year. I’m proud of how far I’ve come and I’m okay with sharing these achievements with myself by myself. I decide to take the day off after lunch to find the perfect gift.

  My career has completely and utterly monopolized all my free time this past year, which I’m thankful for, and this sporadic treat of walking the posh area of New Bond Street to find the perfect trinket for myself is a rarity. I wind up window-shopping in the most beautiful high-end jewelry stores in the world, trying to conceptualize what object would be the perfect symbol of my self-love and emotional emancipation. I pass Chopard and spy stunning watches and then I move over to Van Cleef & Arpels, with their beautiful Alhambra iconic flower pieces beckoning me. I decide to cross the street to window drool at the one and only Harry Winston, which is hands down every girl’s fantasy shop. I’m sure most women dream of getting a diamond rock presented in a Harry Winston box, and although I can finally say out loud what I’ve held inside for years, acknowledging that I want a happily ever after and for someone to put a ring on it is still too painful. I’m aware that marriage may not be in the cards for me.

  I stand at the window and study the exquisite fine jewelry gracing the small-framed vitrines as a guard at the door smiles when our eyes meet. I catch a glimpse of a man and a woman seated at a table inside the store inspecting jewels. I imagine how excited and happy the couple must be, probably choosing the perfect engagement ring to declare their love and commitment. I’m about to leave when the man turns slightly to look at the girl by his side and my heart withers when I see him. My heart. My poor heart, my poor stupid heart, my poor stupid worthless heart will never know love.

  I’ve walked the streets of London for the last nine hours. I feel lost and numb. I don’t need food or water or rest or a bathroom; I just need to disappear. Why am I surprised? Did I think I meant something to him? Did I think I was destined for something other than pain and disappointment? I’ve been put on this earth as a spectator. I see others being loved and cherished, building families, and raising their kids while I just watch and admire from afar. I’ve been barefoot for the last few hours, heels in hand, and I can’t bring myself to go home because nothing feels like home.

  It’s almost midnight when my aching feet finally near my building. My phone has been vibrating in my attaché case for hours; it’s Emily, no doubt, wondering why I haven’t answered her texts, which have been coming in non-stop.

  I answer, “Hello,” and I know I sound exhausted.

  “Hello, hello, you stupid cow, where have you been?” It’s Emily, sounding wild and frantic, and well…like Emily.

  “Sorry, long day. I’m a bit blue today. I’ve been aimlessly walking around trying to clear my head. What time are you and Louis arriving tomorrow?”

  I hear her make some animal growling sound. “Fucking say it!” she barks.

  “No, I won’t. We swore we’d stop. I promise I’ll be pink tomorrow, and by then, you’ll be here and we can discuss this over drinks and sushi.”

  Emily is back to making possessed sounds on the other end of the line. “Sara, if you don’t give me a song right now I will kill you and you won’t see tomorrow, and that’s a promise.”

  I’m too weak to argue or fight with angry Barbie so I just say, “‘The Winner Takes It All’ by Abba.”

  “But you’re the winner, right? You won! You get to take it all, right?” She sounds frantic and it’s kinda sorta comical how she gets worked up over nothing.

  “No, Em, I’m pretty sure I lost.”

  “You don’t need Jeff. Listen to me, something a million times better than Jeffery is waiting for you. Please tell me you believe me,” she says with such passion and conviction that it makes me smile and love her even more than I thought possible.

  “Not Jeff, this isn’t about him. I accidently talked myself into loving someone just as unattainable as Jeffery, and I know that it sounds ridiculous because of how he left me and never looked back, but I thought what we had was different and perhaps special and that he felt it, too…and maybe, just maybe he’d wake up one morning and come find me. But that will never happen.” My voice cracks as a tear leaves my eyes and I start laughing at how stupid I’m being.

  “Are you crying?” she asks and I shake my head, because I’m really not crying. I’m laughing and crying simultaneously, which is something totally different. “Go home, please. I don’t understand why shit can’t just go smoothly. But just get yourself home safely,” Em mumbles and I’m thankful she’s not pushing me to talk more because I’m wrecked.

  “See you tomorrow. Have a safe flight and if you get a chance, grab me a couple cans of Bumble Bee tuna in spring water…I need to make myself a real tuna fish sandwich and I can’t deal with the tuna here. Love ya, kiss the kids for me,” I say and hang up just as I reach my building.

  Tomorrow will be a better day, today just needs to end.

  “Every Breath You Take” by The Police

  I’m at my usual table eating my usual chocolate croissant and sipping black tea with milk and two sugars. I wait almost every single morning at eight sharp at this tiny corner café across the street from her flat as I watch my beautiful ballerina head out to work. I’ve watched Sara transform before my eyes and become more beautif
ul than any woman I’ve ever known. Her hair is slowly becoming lighter and she always has a smile on her lips as she leaves for work. She doesn’t seem like the sad girl I left with my heart back in New York almost a year ago. My day ends when I see the lights go off in her flat; only then can I rest, knowing she’s in bed safe and sound and that I’ll see her first thing in the morning.

  She’s been on several dates with various wankers in the past year. I’ve considered very hard accidentally plowing the bastards over with my car, but fortunately for me—and them—none of her dates ended with more than a friendly peck on the cheek. I’ve been testing myself. The easiest thing for me would’ve been to run to her and ask her for another chance, but the correct thing is to earn another chance with her. What I did to her and the way I abandoned her is unforgivable. She trusted me above her best mate and I demonstrated my disloyalty almost instantly.

  She may not know it, but I’m courting her. We have been dating from the moment Emily informed me she was within reach. I know everything there is to know about her, from what and where she eats to what she drinks. I know which underground tube she rides to get to her firm and which co-workers she frequents the pub with after work. Her favorite store is Selfridge & Co. and I even know where she buys her knickers. She treats herself to flowers every Friday and walks into Hamley’s toy shop at least once a week. She goes out to dinner on her own frequently and stares at her phone screen entranced for hours. I long to sit next to her, just be by her side and fix that hair that always falls into her eyes, but I haven’t earned it yet. The bottom line is I’m in love with Sara Klein; she just doesn’t know it.

  I have been in contact with both Emily and Louis since watching and learning of the video footage of Isabella and Louis all those years ago. I forgave him and myself for failing to save my beautiful Isa. She had drug addiction issues that caused many of her heartaches and eventually took her life. I respect him for trying to help her and I’ve apologized to him on behalf of my sister for the turmoil she and I caused. About three months back, Louis paid me another visit that ended differently than our previous encounters. It actually ended with us visiting my sister’s grave. I’ve told Emily of my feelings toward her best mate, which she urges I make known.

  I’ve been studying and with Emily’s help, I now speak fluent ‘80s. I know almost every song—well, every important song from that era, and I can recite the lyrics, and in most cases, I can even sing it. I long to be Sara’s everything, not just her lover and partner. I must be her best mate and whatever language she speaks, I ought to speak as well. Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of our lives colliding at that restaurant within The Pierre hotel in New York City. I have a bloody plan that I can’t wait to finally reveal to her. Tomorrow will be brilliant.

  “Take On Me” by A-Ha

  You know you love someone when the thought of something bad happening to them paralyzes and hurts you more than the thought of anything bad happening to you. I had it all fucking figured out. Got dolled-up like a loon with my gift and speech and all systems were set to go, and yet I never once stopped to ponder that something could happen to her. That perhaps there were circumstances beyond my reach.

  I don’t bloody know where she is; it’s not like her to not come home this late. She left work at noon and nobody—I mean, not one goddamn human—knows where Sara is. Emily and Louis are running around London trying to find her and I’ve been here, pacing aimlessly by her door for the past seven hours, scared to hell with my mind racing a million miles away. I’ve already called the police, they’re on alert, but they can’t claim her officially missing until twenty-four hours from the last time someone saw her. In an hour, I plan to break down this door and go inside to see if the doorman perhaps didn’t notice Sara return. Maybe she’s inside her flat and just fell asleep, or maybe something happened. I know I shouldn’t go there, but this reminds me of how I waited for my sister and then gave up and didn’t go looking for her and possibly saving her like I was supposed to. I won’t do that again. I won’t give up.

  Why did I wait this long to tell her? Watching and following her for almost a year like a stupid spy—why didn’t I try to see her sooner? If I didn’t make believe that we were together, and instead actually tried to be with her like a man not like a child, then maybe she wouldn’t be somewhere, God knows where, on her own right now. I’m a joke. Everything I’ve planned seems silly and meaningless if something—God bloody forbid—were to happen to her.

  My feet throb from the back and forth pacing. My cell is completely lifeless, but Emily and Louis know I’m here and if they have any news, they’ll come find me. I slide down and sit by her door, no longer able to stand. I close my eyes and start to pray again. I pray to anybody who will listen to please help safeguard my Sara from any harm. What if she’s in trouble? What if she’s hurt?

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I hear her voice and almost faint with relief at hearing the best sound in the whole bloody world.

  I open my eyes and look up to see my broken ballerina standing close enough for me to finally touch her. I don’t know who heard my prayers, but I am indebted to them for life. I grab hold of her legs like a child and clasp her close to me, kissing her thighs, not caring one bit that I must look like a deranged freak. I will never let go of her; they’ll have to extricate me by force. Thank you, Lord! Thank you for making sure she’s alive and safe and yelling at me.

  “Liam! Are you crazy? What are you doing here? Let go of me!”

  I don’t bloody care what she says, I love her and she may not know it yet, but she loves me, too. “Say my name again. Fucking Lord, I missed hearing my name come out of your mouth. Say it again!” I demand, because my name sounds like a gift as it comes out of her mouth.

  “Why are you here? Please let go of me and tell me what’s going on,” she pleads.

  I loosen my hold to look at her, noticing she’s barefoot and looking like she’s been crying. “Where have you been? Are you all right? Did anybody hurt you? Why do you look as if you’ve been crying?”

  She shakes her head and tries to create distance between us, which I won’t allow after not touching her for a whole year. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but you should go. I’d like to go in and take a shower; my feet are filthy and I stink. Did you come in person to tell me your good news?” she questions, sounding as cheeky as ever.

  “Yes, I have lots of things to tell you,” I say, failing to contain my excitement at finally being close enough to tell Sara, my Sara, all that she means to me.

  “That’s very magnanimous of you, but I already know your wonderful news. Congratulations, I wish you both only happiness,” she says without looking at me, and it sounds a bit odd.

  “Thank you, I think. And by ‘both’ you mean you wish you and me happiness?” I ask because I’m confused. How can she congratulate us if I haven’t told her my plan or asked for her hand yet? Did Emily spoil my surprise?

  “Yes, I wish you happiness and I hope to one day find my happiness as well. Thank you again for coming to tell me in person. Goodnight. See you around,” she says, not at all as excited as I’ve let myself imagine she’d be. “Excuse me,” she adds as she moves past me, still on floor, to open her front door.

  She’s about to close the door on me as I jump up and hold it open. “Sara, are we not going to talk about this?” I’m very confused; I don’t understand what’s happening. Why do I feel like she’s about to slip through my hands again? “I’ve been waiting for you for…” I look at my watch. “…nine hours.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why you couldn’t just call or text me your announcement. I don’t know why you’d wait for nine hours at my door to tell me you’re engaged.”

  “Well, I had to ask you first! I thought you’d want to know, it’s a big deal. I’ve waited almost a year to be able to tell you how I feel.”

  She bloody laughs at me. “You waited almost a year to tell me that you’re getting married? Were you e
ngaged when we met in New York?” she asks me, looking as confused as I feel.

  “Of course not! It was only after I left New York that I realized who I want. I don’t reckon being without you anymore. I made so many mistakes, but I’m ready to make it up to you. I almost didn’t survive waiting here for you all day. If something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Where have you bloody been? It’s not like you to come home this late.” I speak to her in English, but it might as well be Cantonese. We’re having a failure in communication and I’m not sure who needs to explain what. However, I am sure that I won’t surrender or fucking relinquish her to anyone ever again!

  “Are you stupid? Or do you think I’m stupid? I saw you picking out a fucking ring for your girlfriend at Harry Winston this afternoon. And now you’re here at my door telling me you want me and that I came home too late! Is this some kind of joke?”

  I start to slowly piece together the scene she just described and I can’t help but laugh. I mean, I should probably start crying because this bloody proves that a higher power is absolutely trying to fuck me in the arse. I laugh hard enough to know that I may piss myself if she doesn’t let me in to use the loo.

  “Did I say something funny? Are you unbalanced? Should I be calling for help?” She continues with that sweet, awestruck look on her lovely perfect face, but everything she says makes me laugh even harder. She hasn’t once seen me follow her for almost a year and yet today, of all bloody days, she spies me.

  “Sara Klein, please stop and listen for once in your life. I am an idiot. You deserve far better than me. But I am not letting you go ever again because I am madly in love with you. I have been watching over you for almost a year. I couldn’t come see you until I knew for sure that I wouldn’t hurt you like I did in New York. I had to ensure that I was the kind of man you needed and not the coward who handed you over to someone else. I’ve been watching every morning and every night, and I have been falling in love with you every single minute.