I take another swig of wine, savoring the deep, smooth tangy taste. It makes my limbs tingle and my body warm. Lifting my fingertips to touch my face, I trace the soft angles of my chin, my lips, and my cheekbones.
I unbutton my blouse, and the cooler air tickles my skin, offering me some reprieve.
I caress the curves of my breasts, down my smooth flat stomach to my hips.
I wore James’ favorite black lace bra and panties.
Lisa wore white. Is white his new favorite color? Is it sexier? Is she sexier?
I’m beautiful.
I want my freedom.
To let go.
I want love.
I’m capable of love. Is James capable of loving?
Am I worthy of love?
Hearts break and shatter, but in turn, we mend them, repair them, and patch them up.
Is mine beyond repair?
I thought I would never feel pain like this again.
I stare at our photo in the crystal Tiffany picture frame on my desk from our wedding. The day is a distant memory. I swallow hard and pick it up and trace the shape of James’ face. So handsome. He stole my heart, and now he’s broken my heart.
I will break this like I’ve been broken. Smash the memories of what was. I raise the frame above my head, and with the little strength I have left in me, I hurl it against the wall, letting it shatter into brittle jagged pieces.
This is just a nightmare, and I’ll wake up soon. My world is spinning off its axis. I can’t smile like I used to. More wine will make me smile. I stagger up from my desk, grab the half empty bottle of wine, and bring it to my lips as a tear slips down my cheeks, opening the floodgates to my pain. I fall to my knees where the picture lies shattered and start picking up the ugly pieces, cutting the skin on my knees. Blood. Red all over my hands. I drink more wine.
I’m drunk. I know I am, and it feels good.
Better.
Invincible.
I hold an ugly sharp shard of glass over my wrist and see the blue vein that runs up my arm, giving me life. I prick the skin and watch as a pin drop of blood appears and slowly brush it away with my thumb and lick it from my finger.
Sweet.
Blood and wine.
Don’t do anything silly, Brie.
I grab handfuls of glass in my shaky hand and gulp some more wine. I’m starting to feel ecstatic. I feel silly, like I want to dance, and I would if I had the energy. My mind is all over the place, like a ball trapped in a padded room. My emotions and thoughts are colliding and crashing into each other. Nothing is making sense.
I wonder why people end up cheating on their spouses. What could have changed? How does love or the attraction slowly fade? What is the normal reaction to this type of thing? Unable to comprehend anymore, I stare blindly at the picture covered in broken glass and blood.
Is there no coming back from this? Is there a way to turn back time? How did my husband hide the darkness from me so well? Is he so deeply flawed he would betray me like this? Or is it just me?
I’m babbling.
I’m seeing double, triple, so many things.
Waves of emotions begin streaming though me, and I can feel the welling of tears. Everything that I know and that I am and everything that I’ve done begins flashing in front of my eyes. My past, my present, my future.
What I have, what I’ve lost, and what I could lose now. Tears race down my face, and quiet sobs escape me. I don’t know why I’m here, and I don’t know how things got this bad. Or I do, and I just let it all unfold in front of my eyes. I hug myself and cry for what seems like forever.
I love him. I am willing to suffer through anything for him. I thought I could handle all of this. I thought I was making progress. No one wants to return to this low point in their life. I straighten up and wipe my face and tell myself things will be all right.
I curse my own foolish fickle mind. I need to get some rest. My head is pounding. I’m so tired.
I need for the pain to go away.
I stumble up, tiptoeing over the shattered glass on the way to my desk. Rummaging blindly through my drawer, anxious for relief, my fingers twitch around the bottle. I shake it like a baby rattle to make sure there are enough pills to deaden the throbbing in my head.
Babies. No babies for me. For James.
“I’m weak. Remember what Babs said.” I giggle.
I laugh again for the third time today. It’s a miracle.
With my sluggish fingers, I twist off the cap.
One...two...three... four.... To what could have been.
Yes. Four sounds like a good, round even number. Four years of marriage, four years of nothing.
Four pills are perfect. Just right.
I feel like one of the three little bears deciding if the porridge is too hot or too cold.
With shaky hands, I count four pills out in my hand and line them up nice and straight.
I pop the pills and wash them down with some wine.
Kendall Jackson is my drinking partner.
Hesitation holds me hostage, the fear of the unknown.
I glance up at the clock. Time is not a friend of mine. I pray that the second hand stops moving.
Tick tock.
I drop the bottle of pills and watch them tumble onto the hardwood floor.
I take a deep breath and count them all. Twenty.
I feel hot. A thin film of sweat covers my neck, and I squirm. I sit, leaning my back against the wall for support.
No more pain.
James brings me pain.
Love brings me pain.
Love is crazy. It makes me insane.
I hear Scott Stapp’s voice floating from the radio singing about being broken.
Broken is Brie.
I wish I could go back.
Thirty minutes later, I don’t feel anything.
Twenty minutes later, I’m hovering above my sad world.
Floating away like one of those puffy white things that you blow into the wind after you make a wish. It separates into nothing and fades into the air, like it never existed. I don’t want to exist. Not like this. Not without James.
I feel weak today.
I wish never to feel the kind of pain in my chest.
My head feels heavy. The room is starting to glow and spin. Everything looks pretty and peaceful.
I can see the clock. Another five minutes have disappeared.
Wasted time.
Then I hear the sounds, like a heavy metal concert in my head. Endorphins rush through my bloodstream. My body is heavy, and my heart is palpitating, and the concert gets louder. They are singing my name, or are they yelling? Are they mad at me?
What did I do?
I’m fucked, right? I’m not supposed to feel this way. Aspirin. It’s supposed to make my headache go away, but there is more chaos.
What’s happening?
I don’t have the energy to get up. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to lie down. I want to dream, to fight the demons in my heart and mind, to wash away my yesterdays.
“Brie...”
I attempt to turn my head to the sound.
What a strong voice. It’s a man.
James?
I want to say that I can hear him, but my jaw is locked. I hear the blood sloshing in my brain, and my arms are heavy like lead. My temples are thumping so hard I feel like my head will explode.
A rush of fresh air hits my clammy skin, and I smile.
Feels like heaven.
The last thing I remember when I fall over and hit my head on the floor is someone’s warm, strong hands cradling me as my cloudy eyes roll back in my head, and my lungs can’t find the air to breathe. I just want to sleep for a very long, long time.
I never imagined I would be writing my third book. Never. Never. Never. And each and every time I start my next story butterflies flap around in my stomach and I say to myself “I’m effing insane!”
But I love it. Love the way the story
starts, develops and unfolds in my head and finally makes it on paper! It’s the most stressful, crazy and rewarding feeling to be able to write and share what is rolling around in my head with readers! I never knew I had it in me, but I do. I really do! Ha!
That... is even crazier. Anywho....
Where do I begin thanking everyone who has helped me with this book from beginning to end? Sheesh. I don’t know, but I’m gonna try!
First I want to thank all of the beta readers who stuck by me to the end, put up with my craziness, the constant insane messages and emails and sticking by me! Becky, Sandy and Kristine. Love you girls for being there from beginning to end! I truly appreciate your bitchiness and not being afraid to tell me what worked and what didn’t work and never sugar coating anything. I love you for being truthful and honest with me and it has made my story so much better. I know that being a beta reader takes a commitment and you have my undying appreciation. I love each and every one of you for your feedback and taking the time out of your busy lives to help me!
Robin at Wicked by Design, for putting together the cover for Love is Louder! I love your work, I love your talent and I love you! This is my third cover with you and each and every time I ask something of you, you surpass all of my expectations and make it an eye-catching masterpiece!! Thank you!
To Paige Maroney, my editor, for cleaning up and polishing my book and putting up with my constant last minute changes. You are a patient and kind person and a true expert in what you do! I hope I get to meet you someday and that you will stick with me for my next project!
To the bloggers and readers that support me and stick by me. You know who you are and I appreciate your support! And to my Indie Author gals – Michelle (AKA Nutty), Jennifer B. (AKA Ninja), Chelle (AKA - Pickle), katz - my partners in crime for always being around in the wee hours of the night –to listen to me, to read my crap, to chat and laugh. I love you chicks!
If I missed anyone in here I am sorry but you know I love you. My heart is big!
Lastly, I want to thank all of my author friends who I have made lasting friendships with! You inspire me every day to keep on writing, to keep on dreaming!! I love each and every one of you for being there at to chat and share ideas. You do not know how much these small moments mean to me and help me keep it together when I’m on the verge of losing it. You all rock and I cannot wait to meet you all someday!
Antoinette Candela is most likely listening to music at a very high volume right now and pondering her next book. She grew up in Upstate New York and is an avid New York Yankees and Dallas Cowboys fan. As a child, she enjoyed reading and writing and penned her first story at the age of thirteen. She drives fast, is a neat freak, loves red wine, Scrabble and can’t live without her iced coffee and a good pen.
Currently she lives in Massachusetts with her son and daughter in her neat and tidy home. When she’s not planted in front of her computer writing, she can be found at the gym or at the beach soaking up the rays and enjoying a good book.
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7057370.Antoinette_Candela
Love Is Louder Page 37
