Three Stages of Love: Attraction

by T. Anthony

  Copyright © 2013. T.C. Anthony

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1482013363

  ISBN-13: 9781482013368

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-63001-195-6

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013901179

  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

  North Charleston, South Carolina

  CONTENTS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINTEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For the LOVE of my LIFE

  Hai conquistato il mio cuore tredici anni fa.

  Se qualcuno dovesse scrivere una storia della mia vita, l’apice sarebbe il momento che ho incontrato te!

  D. C.

  You conquered my heart thirteen years ago.

  If someone were to write a story of my life, the climax would be the moment I met you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Don’t let go of me, Alexander. Please, this is all I want. This is all I need.”

  I panted pleadingly for Alexander to continue his precise maneuvers as he plunged his cock into me, leading me toward an undeniable and celestial orgasm.

  “Alexander, look at me,” I begged.

  But shadows filled the space where I searched to find his face.

  “Alexander, I need to see you. I need to stare into your eyes as you release your orgasm.” But there was no response. Alexander was silent, basically unwilling to fulfill my request. He concentrated on his firm penetration tightening the muscles in his upper thighs, and flexing his ass to thrust harder. The moment was perplexing; I had till now always held Alexander’s stare as we climaxed. Though I felt slighted, I refused to waste this moment of enjoyment because of the silliness that existed in my thoughts.

  “Alexander, I’m almost there; please make me cum for you.”

  Lifting my head and arms to reach for him…

  The orgasm halted!

  There was nothing in front of me but darkness and air—an air that filled my lungs with poison and suffocated my heart.

  “Alexander!” I awoke in a panic, swinging my arms in front of me, feeling the sheets around me for his arms, his torso or his legs—anything that felt like the warm skin that encapsulated his body.

  But again, there was nothing.

  I felt broken; painful stinging tears streamed my face, and an agonizing ache thumped through my chest. I had dreamt of Alexander yet again. The same exhausting and unsatisfactory dream I’ve had nightly since the day I sent Alexander away—away from my reach, away from my body, and away from my life. It was that dreadful day that now tormented my existence.

  I fell back onto my bed, soiling my pillow with the salty remnants of lust and love. I tightened my hold, almost bursting the pillow’s feathery guts as I searched helplessly for solace; but there was no peace to be found.

  Three months had passed since I last saw Alexander, and the memories he had left behind were fading with the summer sun. His scent no longer lingered in my bedroom, his face was no longer clear in my memories, and I no longer felt his touch upon my skin and inside the carcass that lay in those sheets. I was hollow—drained of any emotion and desire to search for a light at the end of the tunnel.

  I had a plan before him, a life with him, and nothing without him.

  I tried but was unsuccessful at filling my time with work and tasks that once fed my ego. I had before me a career, a title as vice president, and a hefty raise that could cushion my every whim; but it held no value. I buried my mind with work, purposely tasking myself with impossible projects so that I could avoid the inevitable moments where I was left alone with my misery. I had turned into a blubbering idiot and merely because I fell in love—an emotion that has no rules and no playbook to go by.

  So much had changed in so little time. My checklist of goals and plans and ‘to dos’ were trash at this point. I could not manage to remember what my goals were. What had I spent the last thirty-two years of life trying to achieve? Where was I going to find satisfaction and contentment now? Would I ever get a second chance at feeling love, lust or, happiness the way I had felt those emotions with Alexander?

  All of my friends and family tiptoed around me during the sporadic and brief moments I saw them. The only constant left in my life was Samantha; but her free time had become scarce since having found bliss in Marcus’s arms. The only difference between her and me was that Samantha knew not to let go of her bliss.

  Samantha, my personal assistant and best friend, tried to stand strong for me. She eagerly came to console me when she saw the expression of regret creep upon my now emaciated face. She sensed my strengths but knew my weaknesses that much more. Over the years Samantha and I had shared some of the greatest moments; but the moments that now resonated within us were those we had survived. I had shunned Samantha during the demise of my relationship with Alexander, which happened to end at the same time that I lost my dearest friend and sister to a battle with cancer. Those were two of the most gut-wrenching and terrifying moments I had ever endured, and Samantha was always there for me—whether I acknowledged her or not.

  I could barely tolerate being around her as much as I used to, and it pained me deeply. She was voraciously in love, and she couldn’t help being illuminated by the emotions that surged through them both. They had no hand in forcing my distance; the more they tried to be there for me, the further I drifted. I wasn’t angry or jealous of their love, but the constant reminder of what I could have had heightened the resentment for my own actions and regrets. Samantha and Marcus tried to be careful not to overdo their personal interactions while in the office, but the passion was glaringly obvious when I was in their presence.

  Marcus had done well in his ascension to CEO by being kind, professional, and eager to pull the company to higher levels of success. I would have once taken pleasure in conquering the mergers and acquisitions firms for top slot, but now I couldn’t find gratification in any of my achievements. Marcus had become a friend and close colleague, but his debonair looks and gallant demeanor were constant reminders of Alexander; his presence and mannerisms were so similar it made my skin prickle. Marcus and Alexander still kept in touch; they had been friends and associates for a long time. But I knew never to approach the subject.

  A few weeks after Alexander left for LA, Samantha begged me to go shopping with her for a gift for Marcus’s birthday. I finally gave in and agreed to go. The truth was: Samantha was torturing me with loud, obnoxious, pleading rants, so had I not agreed, my ears would have begun to bleed.

  We drove to the local mall. On my good days, I would have led Samantha into the city to shop, as shopping in the city is a joy like no other. But today I did very little shopping or browsing, for that matter; for I found no enjoyment in anything in what seemed like ages.

  “Samantha, what exactly are you looking to buy Marcus for his birthday? You guys haven’t been together for that long. Are
you looking for something extravagant? Give me an idea so I can help move this along.” I could tell that Samantha was becoming annoyed with me, but I couldn’t help wanting to go back in to my safe haven of depression.

  “It doesn’t have to be extravagant, but I want it to be personal and special. Look, just be here with me. I know you don’t want to, but I think it will be good to force you to be among the living for a day.” Samantha kept walking around the glass cases that held men’s jewelry and watches.

  If she had asked me, I would have personally told her that those types of gifts were given past the mark of a one-year relationship. But she didn’t ask, and I tried so hard to keep my opinion to myself.

  “Special? Samantha, you’ve been with him for a minute. Don’t you think you are moving too fast?” But, my opinions were rarely held for too long, and so my diarrhea of the mouth commenced, irrespective of the fact that in my hypocritical summation of her relationship I had failed to take notice that I had had a two-week romance shake up my entire world.

  Samantha stopped looking through the glass at the watches and turned to me. She wasn’t angry, but perturbed. “Eva, I know you don’t get this. I know that you think I’m crazy for having fallen for him so quickly, but this is not something either of us are forcing or controlling. It just is.” Samantha locked her arm under mine and put her head of golden strands on my shoulder, “I know it’s been hard for you. I am here for you and have always been. But I need you to be here for me too. Marcus and I are in love. I don’t know how it happened so fast or why, and I am too elated by it all to stop and ask myself those questions, because, truthfully, I don’t care how or why.”

  If there was any takeaway from Samantha’s speech it was that she was the proof that I had fucked everything up with Alexander. I had done the exact opposite of what she was doing, and in the end, she was happy in love and I was…alone and miserable.

  I nodded my head and said very little, but Samantha saw an opening. “Tell me something, Eva. Of all the plans you’ve made and all the successes you’ve achieved, were they all that you had envisioned for yourself and your life?”

  I remained silent.

  She said, “A tiger lunging for its prey is amazing to watch, but sometimes people just want to cuddle with a cat. You’ve played the tiger for far too long. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you just want to breathe and be happy? Life changes…and you need to learn to change with it. Make a new plan—one that involves Alexander.” And with that she turned her back, walked forward, and resumed her shopping.

  After four hours and very little buying, Samantha finally found a gift she liked. The two thousand-dollar watch made by Breil lay on a velvet cloth on the glass counter. It was simple but elegant, with a single diamond above the twelve o’clock mark and a black leather band. Samantha waited for the watch to be engraved, and out of all the things she had said to me throughout the day, the few words she chose for the engraving were what struck me the most. The engraving was to read: Simply in LOVE.

  They were three very simple words with not-so-simple a meaning. Was it possible that I was the only woman who found love scary and trying? Love is nowhere near simple, I thought. And as I pondered the phrase, I stared in awe at Samantha as she stood consumed with devotion. And I envied her!

  Later that evening, we celebrated Marcus’s birthday at Piccolo’s Italian restaurant on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Samantha invited a few of Marcus’s colleagues for dinner and drinks. But there was one obvious empty place at the table—Alexander’s!

  He came up in conversation of course, as my luck would have it. Marcus tried mentioning an update on Alexander and how great he was doing in LA; his eyes glancing back and forth between me and Samantha as he spoke. And every word yanked at my heartstrings.

  “He’s doing really well out West,” I heard Marcus say quietly.

  And inadvertently my body leapt out of the chair. I internally rejected any mention of him and his successes without me. My dash out of the restaurant as I shed tears of grief was Marcus’s and Samantha’s cue to never again mention Alexander in my presence.

  The following morning, as I passed Marcus in the office, I tried to apologize for my behavior. And in his consoling and usually friendly way, Marcus replied, “You don’t have to apologize. I see the hurt through your eyes. Alexander hasn’t loved much in his life, and the few people he has loved he lost in the cruelest of ways. Call him, Eva. It will do you both some good.”

  But he was right about one thing. My eyes carried dark circles around them and were streaked red from the excessive crying, and my every word was marked with contempt. My appearance had changed from glowing and sexy to pale and rail thin. I hadn’t been to the gym in months, but I had lost fifteen pounds off of my already fragile body. My appetite was uncharacteristically diminished—almost nonexistent, in fact. I don’t know how many times I pondered my current state, but the realization was always the same: in an effort to maintain the independent woman I had always been, I had instead lost not only who I was but any understanding of who I could be in the future.

  The disturbing hours of darkness came and went, and as the sun came up and crept through my curtains, I awoke back to my grieving days and was determined to try to have a better day. Having spent the last few hours recalling the joy that Samantha carried, I wanted nothing more than to be around that happiness again.

  Picking up my cell phone, I dialed Samantha.

  “Hi there,” she answered after only one ring.

  “Hey, are you busy? Is it a bad time?” I asked. I imagined she was with Marcus, as she had been every weekend for the last few months. All of her days and nights and plans involved Marcus. Samantha had always been on call for me, until she found a life of her own, and I had yet to learn how to handle my life without her.

  “Never too busy for you. What’s up? Are you OK?” Her concern and constant questioning of “are you OK” annoyed me, but I couldn’t fault her. I had created the concern; my presentation and dismissal of life as a whole spoke that I was, in fact, not OK.

  After three months of mourning my self-instigated loss, I knew that I could not survive a moment longer in this hollow existence. I needed to find a way to move on, regardless of whether or not I wanted to.

  “I was just hoping that if you didn’t have plans tonight that we could go for drinks and some dancing. You know, like the good old days?” I felt like a child begging for a cookie, helpless and naive and desperately wanting.

  The line carried a stale silence before Samantha spoke. “I can’t—” she began to respond.

  And with fear of rejection, I retracted my invitation and cut off her response. “It’s OK, Samantha. Maybe some other time,” I blurted through the phone.

  But Samantha chimed back in a hurry, “No, Eva, wait. You know, some day you will actually let me speak an entire sentence before interrupting me.” Samantha chided as she continued. “I was about to say I can’t believe you called. I would love to go out with you tonight. You have no idea how much I miss partying with you.”

  I released a heavy breath and cleared the building pressure in my chest. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take you away from Marcus, or…you are welcome to invite him to come with…” I said politely, asking her to bring Marcus. I liked him and all, but I really just needed to let loose with Samantha.

  “Oh, Marcus…um, he has his own plans.” Samantha paused. A pause that made her seem uncertain of what to say. “Maybe he can meet us later on, but for now I’m all yours.”

  The last time that Samantha and I had gone out drinking was our final night out with Chrissy; and the sudden thought tightened in my throat as I hesitated with my confirmation.

  “I know,” Samantha added, breaking the silence. “Our last girl’s night was our outing with Chris. She’ll be there, Eva; she’s always there…in spirit.”

  I was covered with goose bumps as the thought of Chrissy’s absence crept through me.

  “OK, swing by my house around
nine. We can decide where we are going before we get into midtown.”

  I needed time to mentally prepare myself for the evening, and deciding where to go was a conversation that wouldn’t end quickly. I hadn’t been in any real social surroundings, other than work, in months. Though my outgoing nature had always been a part of me, I wasn’t sure what parts of me were left intact; I still felt uneasy.

  “Sounds like a plan. I can’t wait!” Samantha released a loud smooching kiss into the phone and then hung up.

  I was hesitant of how I would react to getting back into the scene, but I had to try to remember what life was like BA—Before Alexander.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I have to say, you are a bit thinner than I like you, but you look as beautiful as I remember,” Samantha said, taking notice of the long black locks of hair that flowed over my overly thin shoulders.

  Samantha was warm both in her embrace and with her words. She had been trying so hard to be a friend, and I had done nothing but make it impossible for her to do so.

  “I’m going to take the compliment but not the remark about my weight. I’m not intentionally trying to lose weight; it just keeps coming off.” I gave her a slightly bothered look, reminding her not to push my limits, as I adjusted my dress, which hugged my hip bones that now protruded through the material.

  “I know it’s been difficult, but you have to try to regain your life and accept the help that the people who love you are offering. Look, you made a mistake. You made a huge mistake. But you can still fix it. You are alive. That means that there can be a resolution to the sadness that has taken you over.” Samantha’s genuine concern filled my heart, and as my eyes swelled with tears, Samantha was, as always, right there to hold me. Reassuringly, Samantha wiped a tear off my cheek as it made its way down from my eyes. “You are not going to ruin your makeup. Tonight is about you, about a good time, and nothing else.”

  As much as I wanted to believe her words, Alexander’s ghost haunted my thoughts continuously.

  Making our way through midtown Manhattan, we walked arm in arm talking about anything—nothing; things with no significance and no need for contemplation. We decided to go to Bar 360, and though Samantha had failed to recall that that was where I first fell, literally, into Alexander’s arms, it was all I could think of. What kept me quiet was the idea that I really did like going to this locale. If I couldn’t handle going to a lounge we had shared in common, the healing process would be a lot harder than I had imagined.