by Annie Jocoby
I had let her in on every feeling I had for her. She knew just how I felt. And I started to feel hatred for her for doing this to me. It wasn’t enough that she pulled the rug out from under me. Devastated me beyond measure. No, that wasn’t enough. She had to come here and fuck with me some more. She wasn’t satisfied with simply stabbing me in the heart once. She had to do it again and again and again.
My blood pressure went through the roof. She was standing in the middle of a crowd, holding court like she always did, and I felt like going over there and ripping off her beautiful face. She never even looked my way, even once.
I finished my scotch, and ordered another. I tried to make my body language less open, because I suddenly felt very anti-social.
Shake it off, Roberts. Shake it off.
After two more drinks, I finally got my liquid courage. I was going to confront that two-timing, lying....woman. I shook my head. I still couldn’t bring myself to call her a name, no matter what she did to me. No matter what she continued to do to me. I was angry with her, beyond angry. I never once thought that she would be capable of such duplicity.
But I still loved her so much that my heart literally started to hurt. I felt a pain in my chest that radiated and grew as I approached her. So, no, I couldn’t call her a name, even in my head. I had far too much respect and love for her.
My feelings for her weren’t reciprocated, and probably never were, but no matter. How I felt for her was how I felt for her, and I couldn’t help it. I wanted so badly to be as cold and cruel as she was. I wanted to stoop to her level.
But I couldn’t.
I loved her so much I couldn’t stand it.
Finally, I got to her group. I stood right next to her. I breathed in her scent. It was vaguely floral, yet musky. She looked so beautiful...for just a split second, I forgot her betrayal. Her cruelty. I forgot how angry I was with her, and all that I wanted to do was to breathe her in. To drink in her essence and her soul, and capture it somehow, so that I could take something of her home with me.
Don’t back down, now, Luke. Don’t back down.
I put my hand on her shoulder, and she jumped a little. And, in her eyes, I saw the old Dalilah. I might have been imagining it, but I saw love, hope and passion in her eyes.
I shook my head. I was obviously seeing what I wanted to see.
We stood there, just looking at each other, and Nottingham was standing off to the side, giving her a look that was unmistakably a warning.
But she didn’t see him. She was too busy looking at me.
We stood there, just looking at each other. I didn’t notice what the little group was doing, but I would imagine that they were wondering just what was going on.
Dalilah didn’t look like the cold, cruel person who dumped me, and who came here to rub in her new marriage. She looked, in her eyes, like the woman who I fell in love with. Who fell in love with me. I felt like I was getting lost in her, just like I always did before.
I had no idea how long we stood there, just staring at each other wordlessly. What I do know is that, too soon, Nottingham was jerking Dalilah’s arm harshly, and her eyes broke away from mine. “Come, Dalilah, we need to go over and talk to Heinrich and his wife,” he said, gesturing to the German man whom I spoke with earlier. “They’re prominent investors in this gallery, so we need to make sure that we talk to them.”
She nodded her head at him, and, as he jerked her towards Heinrich, she was looking back at me. In her eyes, I think that I saw regret and sorrow. A few seconds later, Nottingham and Dalilah had disappeared into the crowd.
I watched her until she disappeared, and then I smiled at the Giorgio and the group. “Well, I hope you guys have a good time tonight. I’m going to go and get a drink at the bar. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Giorgio said. “We hope to see you around the party later on. Do not be a stranger,” he said, in his thick Italian accent.
I nodded, and said “I won’t. I’ll try to catch up to you guys later.”
At that, I tried to get to the bar, but, by then, it was too crowded. So, I ended up outside again. Because it was so cold outside, there wasn’t anybody else hanging around. I could, thankfully, be alone.
I tried not to think about the cold, as I stood there and thought about the night and seeing Dalilah. It was so weird. In her eyes, she was the Dalilah whom I loved. The Dalilah who loved me. She looked like she was full of regrets, passion and love. I could feel it from her. It emanated from her very aura.
Yet, she was married to Nottingham. And she was throwing that up in my face by being here. She didn’t even care enough to warn me that she would be there with him. Her actions belied her eyes – her actions told me that she didn’t give a crap about me. And she never did. How could she? She was married to somebody else, and she married him within a few weeks of breaking up with me.
She must have been seeing him all along. That was the only thing that would make any kind of sense. After all, you don’t just marry a man after having dated him for a matter of weeks. No, she must have been with Nottingham at the same time that she was with me.
My heart hurt so much. My brain was completely confused, too. I knew what I saw in her eyes a few seconds ago. So, I really didn’t know what to think.
I had no idea who to ask, either. I needed somebody’s opinion on the matter. But whose? Jake, god love him, was more clueless than anybody about the female gender. He would be of no help if I were to ask what he thought.
Then I thought that maybe, just maybe, I should go ahead and talk to her parents. I had nothing to lose by doing so. Dalilah and I were already completely kaput, and she was married to somebody else. But maybe they might know what happened.
All that I knew was that I needed answers. This entire situation was killing me. Prior to seeing her at the premiere, I was confused enough. I had no closure. All that I knew was that I was with Dalilah, and then, just like that, for no reason at all, I wasn’t with her anymore. We went from engaged to nothing at all so quickly, I really had no way of processing any of it.
I had tried to forget about it. As much as I was obsessed with what went wrong, I also tried very hard to forget that she and I were no longer together. And that she apparently never loved me.
But now, at long last, I needed answers.
There was no way that I could ever move on with my life unless I got them.
Chapter 18
Dalilah
After seeing Luke, I was pulled and jerked all over the gallery, as Nottingham made sure that I spoke with as many people as possible. I had to talk to one group after another, and all that I wanted to do was to find Luke and talk to him. Congratulate him on a massively successful launch. Tell him how much I was completely, head over heels, in love with him. Tell him that I wanted so badly to run away from Nottingham and just go and be with him forever.
It was so hard for me to actually engage in conversation with anybody, especially after I saw Luke. I had no idea that seeing him would be so heart-rending. I mean, I knew that it would be, but the magnitude of the heartbreak after seeing him was something that I really wasn’t prepared for.
I tuned everyone out. I ignored Nottingham, who clearly was giving me a warning throughout the night. I knew what he expected from me – that I was going to be the charming wife. I was going to make scintillating conversation with everyone, and they would all converse amongst themselves, after we left, about how witty and intelligent I was.
But, as with everything else, I didn’t cooperate. I barely answered the questions that were asked of me. My brain wasn’t engaged with these people. It was engaged with Luke, wherever he was.
So, the conversations with me and Nottingham’s friends went something like this....
“This Luke Roberts painted a portrait of my wife, and it was just delivered today by courier. It’s a beautiful, sensuous portrait that really captures my gorgeous wife’s essence. You really should come and see it sometime.” Notting
ham.
“What was it like to pose for this portrait?” somebody would ask.
But I wouldn’t answer. My eyes were searching the room, and I barely even knew that a person was addressing me. Nottingham would then jump in with something like “she really enjoyed herself. She’s very in demand for her modeling, of course, for obvious reasons,” he would say with a knowing chuckle. I was vaguely aware that he could turn on the charm for his fancy friends, and I felt more resentful than ever.
And so it went, throughout the evening.
I couldn’t think about engaging in conversation with Nottingham’s friends, because I was too busy thinking about how successful this launch seemed to be for Luke. There were two other artists featured, both of whom were major names, but it seemed that Luke was the talk of the party. Everywhere I went, I heard people talking about him. I heard snippets of conversation, and people were saying that Luke was “brilliant,” “a rare talent,” “a hidden gem,” and “an up and comer.” Another group was talking about Luke’s premiere was being a “sleeper.” A woman in this group was saying “I wasn’t expecting much from an unknown artist, but I was so surprised with how mature his work is. And he’s really young, too.”
And that was the general sentiment of the night. Luke was a hit. He was a major hit, and he was soon going to be on the A-list. There was no doubt about this.
In the back of my mind, I was thinking about how much Nottingham wasn’t even necessary to Luke anymore. As much as I was afraid to leave Nottingham after this premiere, I had a glimmer of hope. Maybe I could go ahead and leave Nottingham, and be with Luke. It seemed that he would be able to make a name for himself, Nottingham or no. After all, Nottingham might try to blackball him, but, judging by the comments of the patrons, he was going to be hot. And galleries always wanted to work with hot artists. There was only so much that Nottingham would be able to do to convince galleries not to work with him.
And the thought that maybe, just maybe, I could get out of my situation with Nottingham occupied my thoughts for much of the night. I was so distracted that I finally just had to excuse myself, on the pretense that I needed to use the restroom.
What I really needed was a breath of fresh air. So, I went outside.
And, to my surprise, there was Luke. All by himself. He wasn’t wearing a coat, yet he didn’t look like he was overly cold. He was staring off into the distance, looking at the brightly-lit New York City skyline. He wasn’t making a move.
I stealthily stood there, ruminating on what to do. I really wanted to go up and talk to him, but I didn’t know if I had the words to say. My mind wasn’t made up on what I wanted to do with Nottingham. As much as I wanted just to leave him, I was still afraid to. Because, as much I was thinking that Nottingham probably wouldn’t be able to touch Luke, now that he was such a hit, I wasn’t entirely sure. I certainly didn’t want Luke to see his momentum stopped, which is what would happen if Nottingham was at all successful in convincing gallery owners not to work with him. And this was exactly what would happen if I left Nottingham – he would badmouth Luke to everyone, and, considering the fact that Nottingham knew everyone who was anyone in the art world, that could be devastating to him.
I finally decided just to surreptitiously go back inside, before Luke could turn around and see me. Because I knew that if I was outside, and alone with him, I would have broken down. I would have broken down, and started crying or worse. I might have even kissed him passionately, simply because I felt a need to do so. I wanted so much for my skin to be in contact with his. My lips were longing to be on his. It was such an overwhelming feeling for me – that I had to be with him, close to him, touching him – I knew that I had to leave. If I stayed, and talked to him, I would have given away just how I felt. And that wouldn’t be good.
I had to decide if I wanted to take the risk of leaving Nottingham. And I hadn’t had the chance to really think that through, yet. It couldn’t be something that I did with haste and without thinking. I had to weigh the pros and cons, and maybe talk to some gallery owners about whether or not they wanted to feature Luke in the future. Nottingham had his thumbs in many pies, when it came to the art world, and his influence was diffuse. So, I had to do my research on what the consequences would be if I left him. Especially if I left him and reunited with Luke.
I quietly opened the door, and went back inside. The place suddenly seemed stuffy to me, insufferable. It was too warm, and there were too many people. I was feeling claustrophobic, like I really had to go home.
I tried to find Nottingham, but he was nowhere to be found. So, I called a cab.
The cab came and picked me up. “Where to?” he asked me.
I started to give my address, and then, out of nowhere, I did something else.
I gave Luke’s address.
There was something inside of me, some voice that was loudly telling me that I needed to go to him. It was as if there was something that was compelling me to go to his apartment. I still had a key to his place, too, so my plan was to go to his place and let myself in.
And wait for him to come home.
Chapter 19
Luke
The night wore on. I tried mightily to put on my game face for everyone. I was astounded on how sought-after I was at my premiere. I wasn’t, at all, prepared for this. I figured that I would be received politely, and that maybe one or two of my paintings would sell. I certainly wasn’t prepared for people to really want to talk to me, and that my paintings would be sold out by the end of the evening.
Which was actually what happened. It was crazy how well things were going for me. I had wealthy patrons trying to make appointments with me, because they wanted me to do commissioned works for them. Gallery owners were trying to line up future shows with me. I even heard critics talking about my show, and it sounded like they would give me a positive review. Including Henry Jacobs and Elaine Bush.
The entire thing felt surreal. And, if it weren’t for the fact that Dalilah had come and ruined me, emotionally, I would have had to say that the night would go down as one of the best of my life.
It wouldn’t be known as the best night of my life, though, not by a long shot. The day at the skating rink, where I asked Dalilah to marry me – that was, by far, the best day of my life. Any night that I spent with Dalilah would have been considered better than that premiere night, in fact.
But, for a non-Dalilah night, the premiere night would be, definitely, the best of my life.
I finally left the party at around midnight. It was still raging, but I was tired and just a little bit drunk. Not bad, though – I made sure that I wasn’t incoherent, because I still had to schmooze. But I had drunk a few scotches after seeing Dalilah, just because I had to get my mind off of her. Seeing her threw me so badly, that I had to do something to take the edge off. So I drank a few scotches, just enough that I was able to engage with the crowd without feeling depressed about seeing Dalilah.
I got a cab, and headed home.
I was finally able to think, and process, about the evening, as I sat in the back of a cab. It was definitely a night of highs and lows. The highs were all the people who apparently loved me. The low, of course, was seeing Dalilah.
How could she be married to somebody else? How could she do that to me? How could she rub it in like that? What would compel her to come to my premiere and try to sabotage it by bringing her new husband with her?
I just couldn’t believe that I was so wrong about her. I was normally so good about reading people, and I just was so wrong about her. I fell so in love with her. So completely, head over heels, in love with her.
And she didn’t even have enough respect for me to not flaunt her new husband to me at my own premiere. What kind of a person was she? An awful person. A truly terrible person.
Yet she was still a person who I was completely, head over heels, in love with.
I finally got home, and trudged on up. I was starting to come down from the high of the night. D
alilah not-withstanding, the night was something that was out of a dream. There was no doubt that I would be in demand after my premiere. No doubt at all. I had already lined up appointments with many wealthy people for commissions, and already gotten firm offers for showings.
I opened the door, and almost fell down in surprise.
Dalilah was sitting there on my couch.
Chapter 20
Dalilah
Luke was finally at his apartment. I was sitting there on his couch, waiting for him, and, when he came through the door, it looked like he could have been knocked over with a feather.
But now that he was there, I found that I didn’t have words for him. I had already started to question what it was that I was doing there. After all, earlier in the evening, I was determined not to make a move until I could do so safely. Only after I knew that Nottingham wouldn’t be able to poison the well against Luke did I want to go ahead and try to be with him again.
Yet, I couldn’t not come to his apartment. There was something, unseen and unknown, that was pulling me to his place. But, now that I was face to face with him, I didn’t really know what to say.
So, we just stood there, looking at one another, wordlessly.
Finally, Luke spoke. “Dalilah, I. What are you doing here?”
I took a deep breath. “I felt bad, Luke. I blindsided you like that. That wasn’t right of me.”
He nodded. “No, it wasn’t. An understatement.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. It was suddenly an awkward moment between the two of us. Neither of us, apparently, knew what it was that we were supposed to say to one another.
“Well, I needed to apologize to you,” I said. “I should have at least, uh, warned you that I was going to be there.”
