The Space Between Us

by Anie Michaels

  Charlie reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry Asher. It never occurred to me that you were hurting over his death. I’ve been really selfish lately. I’m so sorry.” I flipped my hand over and linked my fingers with her and gave her a smile. She smiled back but pulled her hand away. That hurt.

  “My turn,” I said right before I took another drink. “Who was the last person you dated?”

  “His name was David.” She said his name coldly. I couldn’t pick up on any emotion attached to his name. “Who was the last person you dated?” She asked.

  “Define dated.” I quipped.

  “Someone you would consider your girlfriend.”

  “So you’re asking who my last girlfriend was?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You.” I said the word without taking my eyes off hers, and took a shot of tequila while I held her gaze. Her eyes grew wide when she took in what I’d said.

  “Me?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “It’s been thirteen years, Asher. Surely you’ve been with someone between then and now.”

  “That’s not what you asked me. You asked who my last girlfriend was. It was you.” She was quiet as she considered what I’d said. Then she shook her head and looked down at her hands.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the miscarriage?” Her eyes snapped back to me. She reached for a shot glass and my hand shot out, stopping her, my eyes pleading with her. I needed to hear why she kept that from me. “Bit,” I whispered. “Please.” She shook off my hand and took the shot. I watched as she put the empty shot glass back on the table, her eyes finding mine. The sorrow in her eyes matched the disappointment I felt. I wanted her to let me in so desperately, but I didn’t know if I would ever be able to break her open. “Your turn.”

  “Did you tell your parents about the babies?” Her question caught me off guard, but I answered her.

  “Yes. That same night we all had dinner.”

  “How did they take it?” She asked with sadness in her eyes.

  I took in a deep breath, trying to figure out how to answer her without hurting her. “At first my mom was upset that I didn’t tell her when it happened. It didn’t feel right to lie to her anymore, so I told her everything. I told her what I had said to you, and that you had pretty much left, and I thought it was over. My dad didn’t say much, just that he understood where I was coming from. Both he and my mom told me that they would have supported me and that everyone makes mistakes.” I paused and watched her take in my words. She unconsciously took her hand and brought her hair forward so it rested over her shoulder. A black, shiny waterfall of silky hair fell down to her waist. The contrast of the dark hair against her olive skin was stunning. I cleared my throat, catching myself staring at her.

  “In the end I think my mother was more upset that you hadn’t told her. She didn’t understand why you left so suddenly. None of us do. Why’d you run away?”

  “Asher, I don’t want to talk about it. Trust me, it will do neither of us any good to re-hash our past.”

  “Then take a shot.” She paused but then picked up a shot glass and swallowed the tequila quickly.

  “Tell me about your most favorite case,” she said as she winced through the burn of the liquor. So, this was it. I could tell she was pulling away from me. So I answered her questions.

  For the next hour or so we sat at that table and had a normal conversation. No more shots were taken, but she finished her drink. I found out all about her art, where she sells it, what she found in New York that inspires her, what books she’s read recently. All of it was informative, but none of it was important, not important enough. Nothing I could learn about her life now would mean anything unless I could put it into context with why she had run away, why she continued to run.

  She took in a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Asher, I’m getting really tired. I think I’m ready to go home.” She stood up and stumbled as soon as her foot hit the floor.

  “Whoa, Charlie.” I jumped off my stool and caught her before she tumbled to the floor. “You all right?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m just a little drunk,” she said with a smile. I shook my head. She was so small, so tiny, the alcohol plowed right through her.

  “Ok, let’s get out of here.” I wrapped my arm around her waist and she leaned her head against my shoulder.

  “I can walk on my own, Asher.”

  I smirked. “I know. I’m just helping.”

  “Ok,” she sighed.

  We made it to my car and I helped her in, then got into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition.

  “Asher,” she whispered. I turned towards her. Her voice sounded sad.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I ask you something without you reading too much into it?”

  My pulse raced at her question. “Ok,” I replied, just as apprehensive as she was. I’d just made a promise I couldn’t possibly keep.

  “Can I go home with you? I don’t want to spend another night alone in my dead father’s house.” My heart ached at her words. She was broken, no matter how hard she tried to come across as put together and strong.

  “Of course.” I smiled weakly at her. Then my smiled faded as I realized I would be sleeping in the same house as her and I wasn’t allowed to touch her.

  “I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said, almost reading my thoughts.

  “No, you’ll sleep in my bed.”

  “Asher, I can’t sleep with you,” she said panicked. That made me smile. Sickly, it made me glad she got just as much anxiety about it as I did. She was afraid to be in a bed with me, afraid of what would happen.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take the couch.”

  “Ok,” she said as she breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” I pulled out of the parking lot and saw her head lean over onto the window. She spent the entire drive watching the street lights pass as I drove us to my house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Asher

  When we got to my house it seemed as if she’d sobered up a little bit. She didn’t need my help to walk to the door, but her speech was a still a little off. I opened the door and led her into the living room, flipping on the lights as I walked through the house.

  “This is a really nice place,” she said quietly.

  “Thanks. It’s not much, but it’s just me so I don’t need a lot.” I looked around the living room, noticing how it must look to her: bare, empty and cold. I didn’t spend a lot of time here. I was usually at the office or sleeping. There wasn’t a need to make this place comfortable. Right now, however, I wished I had something more than stark walls and uncomfortable chairs. “You can follow me back to the bedroom.” I pointed down the hall, then led the way.

  I walked in, flipped on the light, and went straight for my dresser, not wanting to take any time to see her in my bedroom. I wanted her here, in my house and with me. I wanted as much time as I could steal with her. But I knew it would be torture to see her in my bedroom and not be free to touch her, free to feel her skin under my hands, free to breathe in her scent and bring her body as close to mine as I could manage. I gripped the clothes in the drawer, my fists clenching around shirts, trying to ease the frustration that came with the situation.

  I took a moment to calm down and then grabbed a shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, both of which would be comically huge on her, but I figured it would be better than trying to sleep in the dress she wore. I turned around and was accosted by the image I was so desperately trying to avoid: Charlie standing in my bedroom, sleepy eyes and nervous smile. There was no way for her to understand how much I struggled with keeping my hands to myself in that moment. I shoved the clothes towards her and my voice sounded harsher than I intended.

  “You can change into these. The master bathroom is just through there,” I motioned with a nod of my head towards the door on the other side of the room. She walked towards me and gingerly took the clothes from my hand. She walked past me t
o the door and my eyes closed, ignoring the ache in my chest that wanted me to stop her. An overwhelming part of me that wanted to hold her, slide her dress off her body, and feel her. I would give anything to be given the privilege. I heard the door to the bathroom click shut and I ran my hands over my face, trying to rub away the tension.

  I turned back to my dresser to get some sleeping clothes for myself when I heard a loud crash come from the bathroom followed by Charlie’s voice.

  “Ouch! Son of a bitch,” she yelled. I reacted immediately and pounced on the door, flinging it open.

  There was no blood, or even any real indication that anything terrible happened. Charlie sat on the edge of the tub, gripping her ankle, examining it closely.

  “Are you ok?” I asked eagerly.

  Charlie’s head snapped to look at me and instantly I saw the panic come across her face. She scrambled on the floor trying to grab her dress to cover herself. And in that very moment, that one tiny and miniscule moment in time, my entire world tilted.

  It halted.

  It screeched to a stop.

  It nearly exploded.

  My eyes took her in. She was frail looking, thinner than I had imagined her to be. She was in just panties and a strapless bra. On her side, covering every single rib bone that was clearly defined, was a large, black and intricate tattoo. I saw it and it took just a second for me to recognize my own name. My eyes went wide and locked on hers.

  She looked guilty, scared, and sad.

  “Why is my name tattooed on your body?” I asked, confused.

  “No, Asher.” She whispered. I recognized the look of a woman on the verge of tears, but I wasn’t going to back down. I took another step into the bathroom and she took another step away from me, backing herself up against the counter.

  “You can’t ignore me, Charlie. You can’t run away from what’s happening right now. Tell me. Why do you have that tattoo?” She scrambled reaching for her dress, trying to cover up what I’d already seen. I rushed further into the bathroom, grabbed her wrists, and tried to get her to answer me. “Please, Charlie, tell me.” My eyes finally found hers as she stopped struggling against me. Her mouth didn’t open and she didn’t move to answer my question. Something around her neck caught my eye and I followed the silver chain down over her collarbone and my eyes came to rest on the ring that hung between her breasts.

  The promise ring I gave her thirteen years before.

  I was shocked and my mouth opened slightly as my mind tried to form words that never came. I was brought back by the sounds of the sobs coming from Charlie and I looked up to see her face wet with tears. Without thinking I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms around her waist.

  “No!” She shouted and pushed me away.

  “You’re wearing my ring around your neck. My name is tattooed on your ribs. You can’t hide from me anymore. I see you. I see you, Charlie. It’s time to let me in.” I stepped towards her again, hoping this time she’d let me touch her, let me ground her here with me.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, almost choking on the word. Wisps of her hair became wild, framing her sad face, sticking to the tears that tracked along her cheeks. I moved my hand slowly up to her and trailed my finger down her temple, catching the hair, and pushing it behind her ear. Her eyes closed at my touch and her head tilted into my palm. “You can’t do this to me, Asher.” Her voice, still whisper soft, shot through me. “I won’t survive you again.”

  “Bit, you have to tell me what you’re talking about.” She began to worry me.

  “That!” She wailed, gripping both of my hands that were now framing her face. She wasn’t pushing me away, or even pulling me in, she was just holding on. “You’re getting too close. This,” she reached down and grabbed the ring. “And this,” her hand ran over the tattoo. “These are mine. They’re all I have left. You were never supposed to see them.”

  “But I have. I’ve seen them and now you have to tell me what it all means.” She turned away from me at my words, but still had no place to go as she was still up against the counter. I could still see her face in the mirror, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to control her breaths. “When did you get that tattoo?”

  “About a year after I left.”

  A whole year later? She’s had that for twelve years? For twelve years now, every time she undressed she saw my name? I moved closer to her, eliminating the space between us, pressing up against her, hoping my presence would convince her to open up and tell me everything.

  “Why did you get it?”

  “Because I still loved you and I wanted to remember it forever.”

  “If you still loved me, why did you leave? Why didn’t you come back to me?”

  “I TRIED!” She screamed. Her body shook with rage and I met her eyes in the mirror. “I came to find you. I was in pain, my babies bleeding out of me, and all I wanted was you, Asher. I only ever wanted you. I nearly had to crawl up the stairs of the frat house; that’s how much pain I was in. Gripping my stomach, praying I wasn’t losing the pregnancy, but needing you. I needed you, Asher. Needed you to be there, to help me, to comfort me, to tell me you still loved me.”

  “I do still love you,” I said softly, reaching for her.

  “DON’T! Don’t touch me. I saw you. I saw you with her. I opened your door and saw her on top of you and I saw your arm wrapped around her, the arm with my name tattooed on it. You wrapped my name around some other woman.”

  “No,” I said automatically. “No.” I repeated, as much for her as for me. I shook my head. “I never slept with anyone else.” Charlie spun around in my arms and her hand came up to land a cracking slap across my face. It stung and it caught me off guard, but I was more shattered by the look on her face. I never wanted to see her broken, never wanted to be the cause of her pain.

  “You can’t lie to me about this. You can’t make me forget what I saw. I SAW YOU.”

  “I don’t know what you saw, but I didn’t sleep with anyone. I couldn’t have. I wasn’t even coherent for weeks after we broke up.” My eyes frantically searched hers, looking for something that resembled forgiveness or her realization that this was a mistake. “Please…” I begged her. She froze up, realizing how close we were and she tried to back up, caught between me and the counter, she didn’t go far. “Please, tell me what you saw. There has to be some mistake.”

  “I opened your door and saw a blonde girl sitting on top of you. Naked, you were both naked. And I saw my name tattooed on your arm. It was you, Asher, and some girl. Don’t try to deny it.”

  I grabbed at the hair on my head in frustration and backed away from her. I had no idea what she was talking about. Ever since I walked out on her, the day she told me she was pregnant, every single day since, I thought of no one but her. Sure, years later I ended up sleeping with other people, but in the months and even years following that terrible day there was no one.

  “I don’t understand,” my mind reeled. What had she seen? How could she have seen anything?

  “Don’t try and lie, Asher. It doesn’t matter what you say. I know what I saw.”

  I tried to rewind my mind, thinking back to the weeks I spent in a drunken stupor over our break-up. There were girls around. There were always girls. It was a frat house. A blonde? I remember a few blondes. Damn it. Why did I have to drink so much? A fuzzy memory started to surface. Shit.

  “Wait,” I said as much for her as for me. Images were coming to me and I finally realized what she was talking about. “Charlie, wait,” I said as I rushed towards her again, my hands going to her shoulders.

  “No, I’ve waited forever,” she said, trying to shrug my hands away. “I can’t be here anymore. I’ve been stuck here, Asher. Stuck in this place where I hate and love you at the same time, and it’s exhausting. I’m exhausted.” She nearly crumpled in my hands, her admission exhausting her even further.

  “I never slept with her. Let me explain. Please, don’t let everything end like this – with a lie
or a misunderstanding.” I stared into her eyes, pleading with her to let me make it all right, praying she would allow me to fix everything. To fix her. To fix me.

  She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t struggle away from me either. I took that as a green light.

  “That day, when I left you, when I said those miserable things to you, it was the worst day of my life. I was so shocked by the pregnancy, so upset by everything and the way I’d treated you, I literally went back to the house and drank. I drank for weeks, Bit. It’s a surprise I managed to pass any of my classes that term. If I was awake, I was a mess.” I moved closer to her, wanting to feel her a little more. If this was the last time I was allowed to touch her, I would take advantage. My hands slid up her arms and I felt goose bumps flood her skin.

  “There were a few girls, here and there, who noticed I was alone and realized we’d broken up. They flirted with me. They came on to me, and they tried to sleep with me.” She stiffened at my words and I could feel her try to pull away. “But I didn’t care,” I said quickly, trying not to lose her. “I didn’t want any of them; I just wanted you. There was one girl who seemed more eager than the rest, but I told her every time that I wasn’t interested.” I swallowed hard, knowing the next part would be the hardest to say out loud, the hardest part to watch her hear.

  “One afternoon, I was smashed. So drunk I couldn’t even stand up on my own. It was the middle of the afternoon and I was nearly passed out drunk. There was a girl there and she was blonde. Do you remember Tracy?” I watched as Charlie’s eyes iced over at the mention of her name. “That day, the day you must have seen me, I was drunk, Bit. I couldn’t get to my room alone. She walked me up the stairs and I was too drunk to stop her when she tried to take my clothes off.” I shook my head at the memory, as fuzzy as it was. I remembered that night and nothing had happened.