I knew what she was thinking. Hell, I asked the same thing to myself when I saw the food I cooked. It didn’t look like what it was supposed to look. “I know that it doesn’t look nice, but don’t judge just by how it looks. It tastes good—perhaps decent. I am sorry. It’s the best I could do.”
She didn’t say a word and was still not looking convinced with my reasoning. While she was staring at the breakfast tray—probably thinking hard whether to take a chance on my food or not—I removed the coaster from the orange juice and said: “Bon appetite.”
I had fulfilled one part of her wish. Then, it was the turn of the second and last part. And I was super excited to get to it and said, “While you finish your breakfast, I’ll get down to take care of some unfinished business.”
I walked around the bed towards her feet and grabbed her pant to slide it down. But it was not as easy as I hoped for considering her butt was tightly pressed to her pant.
And what happened next wasn’t something I could have foreseen. I managed to pull her PJ down—just a bit, though—but she jerked forward along with it.
“What are you doing?” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she quickly leaned back and held the headboard for support.
It freed the pant from her buttocks’ grab shortly, and I pulled it down to her knees. I realized that I went overboard. I could have been gentle and considerate. But then . . . on second thought . . . I was just doing what she demanded from me last night.
But why was she behaving differently now in the morning? That question remained unanswered and was still bugging me.
Oh, I get it now.
I was sure that she wanted me to indulge in a secret fantasy of hers which she told me years ago.
Rape fantasy.
You know, where I would impose myself on her, dominate her, and probably pull her hair, or yell at her a little bit. That sort of things.
I wasn’t able to do it when we’re together; I didn’t have it in me. But the stint in prison had changed me, and I was confident that I could pull it off.
And that’s what I tried to do.
“I am going to fuck you up real bad, bitch.” I talked like a gangsta and leaned closer to her.
“Get back—you sicko.” Amber pushed me away with a kick to my gut. She threw the breakfast on the floor, got out of the bed and pulled her PJ up.
Honestly, I didn’t mind her hitting me at all as it was all part of the fantasy. What I didn’t like was her throwing the food away. “Why did you do that? I spent two hours making you that breakfast.”
She didn’t answer me—or rather didn’t bother to respond. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and said, “I am calling 911.”
And she actually did. I could tell by the keypad dialing tone.
I snatched the phone out of her hand and hanged up the call before it connected. I was so agitated by her behavior that in frustration, I threw her phone on the bed. “Why did you do that for? I did what you asked me to do.”
“So, I told you to serve me breakfast in bed and then molest me?”
“You don’t remember, don’t you?”
“Remember what?” She barked at me in an arrogant and condescending tone.
I looked in her eyes; she had no idea what was going on. No clue whatsoever. I was going crazy. How could she do that to me? She promised me that she would not forget last night.
Truth be told, deep down inside, even after Amber’s assurance, I had a slight fear that it could happen. But I just didn’t want to admit it and completely wiped that thought out of my mind before I left her room last night. I was afraid that putting any negative thoughts in my mind would turn my fear into reality and jinx any chance to have a bright future ahead with Amber.
I was devastated, but even in that state of mind, I had an idea to jog her memory. It was my last chance to unite with my family. I couldn’t give up then—not after coming that far. It would be like tripping just before the finish line.
“Wait here,” I said and ran downstairs to get her what I forgot on the kitchen counter. I got back panting and handed her the white rose. “Do you remember now? You told me to bring the white rose with breakfast. It was the last thing you said to me last night. Just try to remember . . . for me . . . for us.”
Amber always had a very special connection with the white rose—no matter how much she denied it. And I firmly believed that it could trigger back her memories. She couldn’t possibly have forgotten what transpired between us right there in that room the night before, to say the least—or so as I thought.
She took a good whiff of the rose and smiled at me. “Oh, I remember everything now.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said with a deep sigh of relief. “For a minute, I thought I lost you.”
“You lost me years ago.” Her facial expression changed completely. She dropped the flower on the floor and crushed it with her feet.
I felt no different than the state of that innocent rose. All my aspirations and hopes were squashed. She was being sarcastic before and just playing with my emotions. She didn’t remember anything, and I had no other way left to help her recall.
Suddenly, Amber caught a glimpse of something outside her bedroom which made the already bad situation worse. She abruptly went over to the window and noticed a familiar bra hanging on the tree.
“Wait a minute. Is that . . . ?—She looked at her PJ shirt and found her shirt’s top two buttons open and no bra underneath—“Oh my God! How could you do this to me?” she yelled and began throwing random things at me. “Are you happy now? You got what you came here for.”
It was like a paintball attack except her ammunition wasn’t pellets but anything and everything she could get her hands on. She was broken by the thought that I bedded her last night when she was drunk and continued to let her frustration out on me. I saved myself from a possible concussion several times, but couldn’t completely protect myself from getting hit here and there—not too major, of course. When she was finally done with her revenge, she sat down on the bed and hid the disappointment on her face with her hands.
I would have let her know the truth earlier should I was given a chance to speak. But she instantly reached a conclusion and attacked me before I could do so. I for one couldn’t possibly see her burning in agony—not after what she went through in the past because of me. She was then calm and composed, and I clarified, “Amber, I didn’t have sex with you last night.”
“You did not?” She unhid her face and looked at me with astonishment.
“I wanted to, but I knew that a situation like this may occur; so, I hold on to it. . . . We kissed a lot though. I practically kissed your entire body.”
“Ew, gross . . .” Amber started cleaning her arms right in front of me which hurt me a lot. She was craving for all this the night before, but then just the thought of me kissing her was repelling for her.
“You can wipe your body all you want, but you can’t wipe the marks I left on your soul last night. You can still wipe our time together last night, but you can’t just forget about me and move on.”
“Sure, I can. Walter will take care of all that. I’ll start my life again with a clean slate. He is the only man for me.”
“Yeah, the man who can’t take care of you in bed will take care of you for the rest of your life?”
“How dare you to say something like this?” she gasped as she stood up from bed in anger. She was all ready to defend her fiancé’s honor against my accusations even though it was nothing but true. I hoped if she had also stood by me when I was defamed. On the contrary, she never missed a chance to humiliate me.
I walked up to her and whispered in her ears with a mocking smile. “Well, it’s your word, not mine. I know how sexually frustrated you are.”
“Shut up!” She tried to hide the truth and turned her face away.
I never had the intention to embarrass Amber. I just released my pent-up anger towards Walter in a not-so-good way. “Please look at me,” I sai
d as I kneeled down on the floor. “Please . . . ,” I tried again, but she still didn’t pay any heed. And I continued, “It’s not the only thing you said to me last night. You said . . . you still love me.”
“What a joke?” She scoffed and finally looked down at me. “I can blurt out my banking password when I am drunk. But not this. Not in a million years. Because it’s not true.”
“Amber, please try to remember. You promised me that you will not forget anything.” I literally begged her to consider my plea.
But she didn’t seem to care anymore. “Stop this nonsense!” she said and turned her face back again.
I knew that chances of her remembering her last night were thin, but when it actually happened, I couldn’t cope with it. I was on the edge of losing Amber which made me unstable.
I suddenly stood up in agony. Eyes bloodshot. Body trembling from anger. I grasped her arms, shoved her back against the wall, and shouted, “You can’t do this to me. You can’t just show me last beacon of hope in the night and take it away in the morning.”
Our bodies were pressed against each other—so close that I could feel her heart beating so fast, her warm breath grazing my face, and her puffy pointy nipples poking me. If only the situation had been different, it could have been one of our most romantic moment.
I was coming on too strong to Amber—shaking her, yelling at her, and behaving like a madman hanging by the last thread of sanity—which made her very uncomfortable. She was trying hard to wiggle out of my grasp, but I didn’t let her. And when she couldn’t bear any more, she groaned by saying, “Stop it! You are hurting me.”
I had turned into a violent psychopath lover at that time. I freed her arms and but then grabbed her face—literally squeezed her cheeks. “Remember when I told you that I’ll be lost without you? You assured me it wouldn’t come to that. You’ll not let that happen. Do you remember?”
“Stop touching me . . .” She gave a mighty push to my chest from both hands which sent me a step back. And then delivered a hard slap across my face with everything she got.
Her tight slap made me fell on the floor with her present imprinted on my face and pulled me out of my psychotic state. It wasn’t the first time I had been slapped by Amber, and neither was I unaware of its impact. It was the same slap, the same person who slapped, but the effects were different then.
That slap was my aphrodisiac the night before. I was enjoying it—hell, begging for it. But that morning, it inflicted the wound so deep in my heart that it wouldn’t be possible to heal it in this lifetime. Needless to mention, I broke free from my psychotic state. But that wasn’t everything she broke. My heart broke, and nobody heard the sound of it breaking. I had to bear that pain. Alone.
I was lying on the floor, drowning in sorrow from heartbreak, but she wasn’t in no mood to spare me. She came closer and further shouted, “How many times do I need to tell you that I don’t love you? I choose Walter. I’ll always choose him over you because he was the one who collected my broken heart pieces and joined it with his love. And if you think you can flaunt your money at me and expect me to be impressed, forget about it because that’s not going to happen. I will never forgive you and take you back. You have no place in my heart. I have nothing to give you except my hate.”
She broke everything inside me in pieces with her poisonous words. There was nothing left—nothing to count on and continue living that dreadful life. At that moment, I just wanted to die. She did the unthinkable—she made me hate myself.
“I am sorry,” I apologized as I damped her feet with my tears that inadvertently dropped from my eye and landed straight on her feet.
I turned around and crawled to the place where she brutally assaulted that innocent white rose. I picked it up and put it on the bed tray.
I then went ahead to collect the work of my two hours labor from the floor and while sobbing and sniffling said, “I am happy that you found someone who can put pieces of your heart together. But I’ll not do the same. I’ll keep my heart pieces shattered indefinitely so they could prick me day and night and not let me forget that I am your culprit. I’ll forever burn in agony for you.”
I stood up after collecting the breakfast back onto the bed tray and said, “You have bared me enough. Just give me an hour, and I’ll be out of your hair, your house, and your life, forever.”
I got out of her bedroom without even looking back at her once.
I was packing my bags downstairs. My eyes had refused to stop shedding tears. Three years in the prison and I didn’t break a sweat nor cried once. But all it took was a woman’s sharp words to shake my very existence and break me into tears.
I was realizing then that I shouldn’t have asked Amber out on a date. It would have been much better if I had just signed the divorce paper before she could drain the last bit of dignity left in me. After what transcended between Amber and me, I didn’t think I would ever be able to look into her eyes. I was so ashamed of myself.
“Are you packing?”
I heard Mary-Louise’s voice coming out from the back. I didn’t hear her footstep; she had a real silent walk.
“Yes.” I didn’t want her to see me in tears; so I continued packing and further said, “I have overstayed my welcome. I don’t want to be a bother and want to leave before the wedding preparation heats up.”
Mary-Louise came forward and stood beside me. And then she asked me to do the very same thing I was hoping to avoid. “Look at me.”
“I rather not,” I said as I wiped my teary face with my hand.
“Look at me!” She then forcefully made me turn around facing her. She caught Amber’s handprint on my face and enquired, “Did she hit you?”
“It’s just a going away present,” I said with a fake smile trying to bear the pain inside me.
“I’ll talk to her,” she said and turned around.
But I grabbed her hand. “Please don’t do that. It was my mistake.” I then let go of her hand and continued, “I should have respected her wishes. I thought she would be happy with me, but I was wrong. Walter is the man for her. She would be very happy with him, and my happiness lies in her happiness.”
“Did you tell her how you feel about her?” she enquired.
“She knows, and she acknowledged the same on my cheek,” I said touching my red cheek in response.
Mary-Louise got sad that I didn’t get what I came there for. She was rooting for me and had her heart set on seeing Amber and me as a family again, but there was nothing left then that I could do about it. She swallowed a lump in her throat and further expressed her concern for Casey. “What will you tell Casey?”
“The truth. She is a smart girl. There is no point in lying to her. . . . Don’t worry. I’ll remain in touch with you and Casey like before.”
“And Amber?”
I didn’t have an answer to that question, and I remained quiet.
Mary-Louise was a wise woman. She got her answer from my silence and didn’t grill about it further. She then asked, “Where are you going to go from here? Brooklyn?”
“Yes, but I will probably head to Tibet first—see if one of the monasteries there let me stay in for a few weeks. I need some peace and quiet to sew my wounds with my tears. As you can see, I have both of them in plenty—thanks to your daughter.”
“Oh, Duke!” Mary-Louise hugged me and showered me with much-needed affection. “I am sorry that it didn’t work out.”
“Me too. I tried my best, but I think my destiny is written in nothing but in black.”
She patted my cheek and said, “Go, meet Casey. I’ll finish your packing.”
Looking tears in her eyes, and her concern for me was making me miss my real mother. I would have surely missed her after I was gone, but my destiny had something else in store for me.
My redemption was not over yet.
Chapter 17
“I need a doctor,” I shouted as I entered the hospital premise with her in my arms.
“Sir
, over here.” The woman on the reception asked me to come to her.
“She doesn’t have time for this,” I said loudly. “Her mother will fill you in.”
And I quickly ran, carrying her over my shoulders.
“Sir, wait.”
The reception lady tried to stop me—but I didn’t. I only stopped when I saw the first person wearing a lab coat.
He was a young boy who might or might not be a doctor. And I requested, “Please . . . help me. It’s an emergency.”
He checked her pulse, listened to her heartbeat through his stethoscope and asked me to follow him.
He was a doctor, yes, but only an intern. Her case was beyond his skill set, and he took me to his senior Dr. Bish who then referred her to Dr. Hugh O’Neil.
She was admitted to the ICU right away, and I was asked to wait. I was worried sick for her. How could that happen?
That morning’s events started flashing before my eyes as if they were just happening then right in front of me.
I went upstairs to Casey’s bedroom to say goodbye. She was asleep—and had her face turned to the other side. I sat next to her on the bed and decided to not wake her up—it was better that way. Otherwise, she would have cried for leaving her, and asked me questions to which I wouldn’t have an answer to. And I just couldn’t have borne to see her like that.
I began stroking Casey’s hair and said, “Casey, when you were born, everything changed in my life. When I held you for the very first time and looked at your pink face, I knew then and there what I had to do. You showed me the right path. You gave me the courage and strength to accept my wrongdoings for which I will be thankful forever. I thank God every day that he chose me to be your father. I love your mother very much, but she can’t hold the candle to you—it’s you who I love the most. I hate to go away, and perhaps it would be a while before we meet again, but I have no option but to leave you here. I need someone I can trust to look after your mother. Take care of your grandma, don’t call your grandpa curse words, and don’t get too close to Walter. I hate that guy. . . . Till later.”
Hard Redemption: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy Page 15
