by Hart, Romi
All I can do for him is be there…being the “light” of his dark world, just like he describes in his new book entitled The Roaring Cyclone. Yeah, corny title, but I think it’s just a Work in Progress at the moment.
I also can see myself, and Zander, and Sarah in all of these books, these fictional worlds that are mirror reflections of his own world. I’m Gena, naturally. But I even see Sarah, especially in his latest book. It’s his subconscious mind finally allowing him to process her death. He writes about her death in a veiled way, describing an accident with a “dragon” that kills the princess.
I know now that everything Zander said was true. Except one lie…when he said that Simeon never loved her. I know he loved her. He can’t admit it to himself. He can’t even discuss her death rationally. He builds walls all around himself, just like his kingdom of “Tavonla” builds walls around their castle to protect the mad king. I perfectly understand the metaphors. Somehow, reading the story is not as thrilling as it once was, when I didn’t know the grief that’s still locked inside Simeon’s heart.
I’ve moved into Simeon’s mansion—more like a castle, considering the lonely vibe it has. He was actually thrilled to welcome me in, like a boy finally getting the female roommate he always wanted. Sometimes I wonder, like Zander said, if Simeon is capable of loving me or anyone.
Maybe he does just love on his own terms, and doesn’t quite feel love the way other people do. I have no idea. But the thrilling feeling of moving in with a man I love and a man I can’t QUIT feels amazing.
Chrissy is definitely jealous and didn’t take the news of our new common law fuckathon – er I mean common law marriage – very well. She still thinks Simeon is a brat who always gets his way.
Maybe I finally realize the truth though. He never actually gets his way. He thinks he wants something, chases it, and then wanders off into his own head and neglects the “prize” he just won. But he loves me, or at least he demonstrates his love all the time. He dotes attention on me all the time, making me dinner, making “tantric love” to me for hours, and then sweetly caresses me as we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Things are great…except tonight I know something is wrong. He’s not in bed and it’s already two AM. I sigh, waiting for him, as I usually do dressed in my nightgown, missing the feeling of his skin pressed to mine.
What is he doing? No…what is he running from, this time? I decide to walk two flights of stairs just to see whatever became of him, since he claimed he was coming back to bed “soon”.
I almost wish, I almost pray, he’s just whacking it to porn or something, like an ordinary guy. But no, he’s there, typing at his computer and writing the next episode of his tragic book series. Tragic…I’m the only one that sees the tragedy, of course. All everyone else reads is the adventure, the betrayals and royal intrigue, and masterful plot twists. But only I read between the lines and understand his cries for help.
He looks manic, almost mad, as he keeps typing away, barely even acknowledging me.
I walk up to him and start reading his words on the current page. The character obviously based on Sarah is speaking. A ghost, a voice from beyond the grave.
I’m prepared to lie and tell him it’s great. It’s brilliant. It’s intriguing and not at all sad and…slightly creepy.
You did this to me! She says.
You did this to me! She says.
You did this to me! She says.
You did this to me! She says.
You did this to me! She says.
You did this to me! She says.
You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says. You did this to me! She says.
I look at my dear Simeon and I caress his face. “It’s time to go to bed.”
“No,” he says in manic rage. “It’s not. I just…can’t hear the character talking to me. I can’t hear HER.”
“Who?”
“Marianne! The princess. This isn’t about Sarah!” he says, looking into my eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not about her.”
“You’re typing like Jack Torrance!” I say, hoping a little humor will crack his bubbling rage. But he’s only getting worse, now shifting back and forth in his seat. “It’s time to take a break.”
“Noo, fuck that. I don’t need sleep. I don’t have to sleep. I can fucking afford not to sleep.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I told you everything!” he snaps.
“NO, you didn’t. Zander told me. You didn’t tell me.”
“Well there was nothing to talk about,” he says flippantly.
“Your girlfriend died and there was nothing more to say about it?”
“I don’t know, she may or may not be dead.”
“She’s dead, Simeon. I know she’s dead. And it was not your fault.”
“I’m talking about writing!” he screams. “Not HER!” He rages and jumps out of his chair, literally pulling his hair in frustration. “It’s my fucking book and my readers are wanting perfection! Do you know how fucking painful it is to try and create a PERFECT book for such an obsessed readership that wants everything perfect? Life isn’t perfect, Gena! Life isn’t perfect and my books are shit! That’s the truth of it.”
I slouch and turn my head, trying to show patience…but that only sets him off.
“Fuck that, you wouldn’t understand!” he says with a pouting frown. “You don’t know at all what it’s like to have a job that pays millions of dollars by the week! You work in a fucking office with all those other peons. BAH! You wouldn’t understand and I don’t understand you. I don’t understand your little world of bickering and retarded little office drama. BAH! Stupid, stupid, fucking, fucking…”
I stare at him…until I burst into laughter. “Are you finished now, weirdo?”
“Yeah I guess,” he replies, calming down. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey buddy, no offense taken. I work a real job. You’re the one who gets paid to lie and eat donuts in your pajamas all day.”
He finally laughs with me.
“I mean it, babe. Come to bed. You’re stressing over this.”
“I can’t. Sarah’s speaking to me. Sarah, I mean, Marianne the princess…”
“She’s not speaking to you,” I say grabbing his arm and kissing his skin. “You’re feeling guilty. You’re trying to torture yourself. But it’s not your fault what happened.”
“Yes yes yes YES YES YES YES it is!”
I watch in surprise as Simeon goes into a rage fit and tosses his monitor and computer to the floor. He screams and kicks the damaged monitor, taking all of his angst out somewhere.
Even in his most violent and regrettable moment…he doesn’t hurt ME. He doesn’t send that negative energy anywhere close to me. He simply hurls his rage into the air, destroying silly little things he can afford to replace with just loose change.
“Fine. Tell me why it’s your fault.”
He starts hyperventilating, looking up into the air and taking deep, sharp breaths.
“Tell me why.”
“Because!” he says, right before a long pause. He takes another series of scattered breaths, going into a panic attack. “I killed her.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Yes, yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did!”
I get pissed and start raising my tone of voice. “Really, Simeon? You murdered her and stuffed her into a trunk and dumped her body into a lake?”
“NO, not literally, silly. But I killed her figuratively.”
“No, you didn’t. You killed her off in your story. Because you’re still grieving her death in real life. You’ve been mourning her for ten years. I know everything, Simeon.”
“No you don’t!” he rages at me,
for the first time talking smack while looking me in the eyes. “You don’t know.”
“Okay, fine Genius. Explain it to me then. How did you kill her?”
“Because…I just did.”
“Not a good answer. Try again.”
“Because! Because Denise! I broke her spirit!” He takes another series of deep inhales and fast exhales, holding his heart and trying to get through this moment.
I take him by the hand and hold onto him, transferring some of his angst into me. I’ve always been good at that.
“I wasn’t faithful to her. You said it yourself, I cheated in my mind. Who cares if I did or didn’t score with you that night, when you were married to Mickey? I was unfaithful in mind. I destroyed her soul.”
“Be less creative and tell me the truth, Simeon. What did you do to her?”
“I…I told her. About us.”
“What about us? Nothing happened.”
“Yeah right. You should know how a woman thinks. Telling someone you love that there’s someone else…someone you love more…someone you RESISTED is a cruel thing to do. It broke her spirit.”
“You told her that?”
“I told her how I felt. I kept thinking you know, being honest maybe that would get us through that difficult patch.”
“And what did Sarah say?”
“She didn’t take it well!” he laughs in pain. “There was friction. Every conversation started with Denise, and Denise this and, why don’t you go be with Denise? Tortured by the woman I loved…and by the woman I couldn’t have.”
I nod sadly. “So she left you. She moved on with her life. And you didn’t, you couldn’t.”
“I wanted her back, that’s the twisted fucked up thing, right?” he laughs. “That’s how sick I was. I wanted her back even though I made her so unhappy. I just…hated the idea of losing her. I wanted her back. I kept asking her to meet me, to give me just one date. And she did, she listened. We met for coffee and pizza, on two, two separate dates.”
“And then?”
“And then I told Zander about it. Hell, I even called Mickey after all these years and told him about it. I told everyone I was miserable and that the best thing that could ever happen to me would be for me to get Sarah back.”
“And then…”
“And then one night while I was getting drunk with Zander, at that very moment when I was talking about going over to Sarah’s house with roses and chocolates…great big wedding proposal, right…I get a call from her cousin. She died in a car accident. A car accident, who does that? When does that ever happen?”
He grabs his head, as if fighting off a piercing headache.
“It happens all the time, my love. It happens thousands of times in a year. And you know what else? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah that’s what Zander, that son of a bitch, kept saying to me. I was like ‘Shut the fuck up, bro. You didn’t even like Sarah. Don’t pretend you like her now.”
“You know what? I’m sure he didn’t like Sarah. I didn’t like Sarah. Okay?”
The comment catches him off guard and he stares at me.
“And Sarah knew, deep down that you were wrong for each other. That’s why she left. It has nothing to do with you. I mean, God, Simeon. Girls deal with that all the time. With their guys wanting some other chick. It happens. And so they leave, they break up, and so you find love with someone else. That has nothing to do with a car accident, and you had no control over that at all.”
He shakes his head quickly but I talk over him.
“And I know the truth. I know the truth that even YOU don’t know.”
He looks up and listens.
“You loved her. Zander said you didn’t, I doubted that you did. But you loved her. I know you, and I know the way your heart works. You fell in love with her. And that’s why you feel so guilty. Because you tend to ummmm fucking chase people away.”
Simeon sighs loudly and sits on his chair, exhausted of his thoughts and my bitching at him—or I guess what he interprets as bitching. But I’m really just trying to make him see, make him understand, he’s not this horrible person. He’s actually a really nice guy that just can’t live with himself.
“I guess that’s why we lost touch, isn’t it?” I say, rubbing his scalp and hair while standing above him. “You told her about me…then you felt guilty as hell.”
“I lied about her…for so long,” he mutters. “She never cheated on me. She was honorable. She was a good person. Not like, not like…”
“I guess that explains why you’ve never opened up to anyone,” I say softly. “You can rationalize hate-fucking, casual dating with your boy Zander. But really loving someone makes you hurt. It doesn’t even make you vulnerable like most people. It just hurts.”
“She really…deserved someone better than me.”
Finally, Simeon, the great wall of his self-loathing wrath, comes down and he breaks into shambles. He cries so hard, his face crumbling into despair. I take him into my arms, into my chest, and hug him tightly. I lean down just so I can cover his head and let him feel enclosed in unconditional love.
“I know you feel like you owe a lot to Sarah,” I whisper to him. “And you do. I realized it when I read your newest book, your work-in-progress. The way you described Sarah…you loved her. And she…she helped you a lot, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” he answers, nodding profusely and wiping his tears. “She gave me advice. Told me what I ought to write if I wanted a book to sell. At first I refused. I was stubborn as hell. But then later, I tried it her way. And she was right.”
“And now you think your empire, your wealth, is all because of her. And you can’t thank her, you can’t apologize.”
He shakes his head, crying again, but clinging to me in need. It’s exactly where I want to be. Wanted, needed, and loved by him.
“Your instincts are right, Simeon. You didn’t do all of this on your own. But it wasn’t just Sarah. It was society. It was all the people you’ve ever met. It was this country you live in that allowed you to do it. It was your fellow human beings, who helped you reach the top of the mountain. So please…don’t isolate yourself from people, from humanity. You owe them a lot because you have a lot to give. Honor Sarah’s memory by living a better life.”
“I love you,” he finally says. “I always loved you.”
“I know you do,” I say with a wink.
“But…” he says rising out of his chair. “I’m not well in the head right now. I need to see my therapist. I need…I need…”
“Just relax, man. Talk to me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you again!” he says firmly. “I know myself. When I get like this, I always chase away the people I love. I don’t want to do that with you, Denise, because…I really love you. I meant it when I proposed to you, even if it was premature.
“I love you too,” I say, fearing the worse. “So what are you saying?”
“I think I need to be alone.”
“Oh okay. Well, you want me to go-?”
“Alone…for a while. A long while.”
I put my hands on my hips and stare him down. “Really? Running away again. “Haven’t you learned by now that running away from feelings never helps?”
“I know,” he says quietly. “I know that now. But…here’s the thing. I love you, I am in love with you. But I don’t want to hurt you by recklessly processing all these angry feelings. I…I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire, you know.”
“You’re already hitting me with crossfire! You’re kicking me out of your house, Simeon?” I say in annoyance. Not even close to crying, just pissed! “After all we’ve been through?”
“NO! Not at all…I mean…just stay here if you want. I’m saying I have to go be alone. Get away from all this. Just process my thoughts and understand what I feel.”
“And living with me makes that impossible?”
“Just stay here,” he says, grabbing my hands and begging. “Just stay
here. It’s a big fucking lonely giant house. I want you here when I get back.”
“I’m not going to stay and wait on you while you travel the world getting your dick wet and finding yourself.”
I giggle at the thought. “I mean come on, man. I’m getting too old for these games.”
“No games,” he promises. “I’m just saying…all the years we’ve known each other…I’ve always had the worst timing with you? Right?”
“Right…”
“And my timing is still way off. I just think to myself…I want us to work, this time. And if this is bad timing, again, you know dealing with all this baggage, then I want to shield you from it.”
“Hmmm always the white knight, hmm?”
“I want the timing to be perfect. Because you…you’re perfect, Denise. I can’t…I won’t…ever hurt you the way you’ve been hurt before.”
“Fine,” I say with tired eyes but a big grin. “If you say so. You go ahead and travel the world. Find yourself or whatever. I got a job, I got a life. I’m not going to wait for you.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“Hell, maybe I’ll score with all those girls at the office who suddenly seem to want me now that I’ve announced I hate men.”
“Be sure to take lots of pictures,” he says with a pervy grin.
“Can I at least stay the night or would you prefer that I leave now?”
“I insist we go to bed together. And that I take you out for breakfast tomorrow. As long as I live, Denise, and no matter what happens in our future, or the rest of our lives, we will always stay friends. Dear friends. Just as we always have. At least promise me that.”
I smile back down at him, still in love with his childlike eyes and his devil-may-care smile. “Of course, my friend. We will never stop being in each other’s lives…we always seem to sneak up on each other every few years and have such a grand time when we get together again. What a spoilsport I would be if I stopped letting you find me.”
We smile and kiss, and hug, and hold onto this precious moment…right before we run, giddy and horny, back to our warm bed.
