Smoldering

by Tiffany Aleman

  “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” The menacing tone of my voice scares even me.

  As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I turn all my anger, hurt, and rage on the only man deserving of my wrath.

  “You have something you want to tell me?” I ask. Tears flow freely down my face. There’s no use in trying to conceal them. They just continue to race down my face on their own accord.

  He shakes his head from side to side, groaning.

  “I asked you a fucking question.”

  When he looks up at me, I literally drop to my knees. His eyes are just as bloodshot as mine. The scent of whiskey seeps out of his pores. The evidence of lipstick runs down his neck, across his jaw, and on his lips. My hand flies to my mouth as bile rises in my throat.

  “I am so fucking sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head and his eyes holding a vacant stare.

  I shake my head back and forth furiously. “No. You don’t get to be sorry,” I whimper.

  In unsteady movements, he pushes himself up to stand, only to reach for the arm of the couch as he tries to regain his balance. With no success, he slides down in front of the couch, his knees bent out in front of him, his head hanging low. He rests his arms on the tops of his knees and clasps his hands together. When he looks up at me, I feel gutted. Hurt and pain fill his cerulean eyes that used to hold so much warmth.

  “And you’re so fucking perfect?” He sneers at me. “You were fucking engaged to the Governor of Virginia! Your father has a seat in The House of Congress! This is all shit I should have known about you, but no, I had to find out from your ex-fiancé in front of my whole family and a shit ton of other people!” he shouts.

  He’s right. I can’t say much because it’s all true.

  “And you don’t have skeletons in your closet?” I ask. “Everybody has a past, Riley. You are no better than me.”

  “Bullshit,” he says jumping to his feet. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Not once have I ever held anything back from you. Every time I’ve tried to get you to open up to me, you change the subject and I let it go because I was hoping one day you’d trust me enough to tell me your secrets, too.”

  I stand and hold my arms out wide. “You want my past? You want to know all the dirty shit, right?! Here you fucking go. I just hope you can handle it. My parents don’t love me and tried to force me to marry a man I didn’t love. A man that fucking raped me! When a year went by and the farthest I’d let him get with me was second base, he took it upon himself to get me nice and drunk and sleep with me. I woke the next morning, him lying on top of me, both of us naked, and I knew what had happened. And you know, the only thing he had to say for himself was, “If you say anything, I’ll deny it. We were drunk and one thing led to another,” I yell, my breaths coming in spurts.

  I step into his space and shove at his chest, forcing him to take a step back. Years and years of pent up frustration come gushing out in this moment and all I see is red. “They wanted me to marry someone who already had another woman on the side, and you know why? To make them look better. They knew Todd was eventually going to run for president. My family is all about titles, images, and rankings. So when I left his ass standing there on that altar in front of four hundred people, it was the biggest fuck you I could give to any of them.”

  Tears blur my vision as they well up before spilling down my face. “So, there you have it. Feel better now? Now… you know… all about… my past,” I hiccup out as we stare at each other.

  A myriad of emotions flash across his face before finally remorse settles. After a few seconds, he takes a step towards me, but I put my hand out, stopping him.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” he says quietly

  “I heard you and your family,” I whisper. “When y’all were talking in their room. They think I’m bad for your image, and I know part of you does too.”

  “No, I don’t,” he states with a shake of his head as he tries to take another step forward, reaching out for me.

  I can’t help but shake my head. “Please, don’t touch me.”

  “Kelsey,” he pleads.

  “It’s okay, Riley. The love you and your family share is something really, really special and I would never want to come between that.” I back up towards the door. “Just know that, even though I didn’t tell you every single gritty detail about my past, you knew me here,” I point at my heart, “and that’s all that matters. What I feel for you is the realist thing I’ve ever fucking felt.”

  When I reach the door, he whispers, “Please, don’t do this. Don’t walk out on me.”

  A stray tear rolls down his face, which breaks my heart even more because I’m the one letting him go.

  “I’m not walking out on you.” More tears fall and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. “I was giving you,” I ghost my hand back and forth between us, “space. You haven’t answered my calls and I come here and find another woman. No,” I shake my head, “you sealed our fate.”

  He broke me.

  He burned me.

  And he left me there smoldering in a pile of ashes.

  That’s the only way to put it. The one person I’ve voluntarily given my heart to has just torn it to shreds.

  And now I have to do this for me and for him.

  “I love you,” I say one last time, “but you made your decision a week ago and now, I’m letting you go.” I whisper.

  Furiously, he shakes his head back and forth. “I’m confused. I don’t know what to do.” The anguish in his voice pulls at my heartstrings, but his words only solidify my reasons behind letting him go.

  “Goodbye,” I whisper around the ball of emotion lodged in my throat as I walk out the door of his house and out of his life.

  I make it five steps before I break down. My knees buckle and I drop down to the deck below. I cover my face with my hands as I cry. Cry for what our relationship has turned into. Cry for the man that I’ve hurt and who has hurt me in return. Cry for the love I’ve lost. The sound of yelling and glass shattering against the door behind me only causes me to cry harder.

  Two years ago, I did what I had to do for me and now, I’m doing what I have to do for him. Riley has a family that loves and supports him, everything I’ve ever wanted… He has love.

  My tear ducts have all but dried out. The pain in my heart is so fierce it literally hurts to breathe. When I found that woman at Riley’s house last week, it felt like he had reached into my chest, ripped my heart out, tossed it into a pile of flames, and walked away without a second thought.

  These past two weeks have been unbearable and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to handle this… this heartache. All my life, it’s hurt that I never felt love or acceptance from my parents but it was the norm. With Todd, I felt more like an inanimate object than a treasure.

  The feelings that I had with Riley were a whirlwind of sensations that I experienced for the first time and I reveled in the love he reciprocated. That boy took me by storm. If I’d known how things were going to end between us, I would have slowed time to memorize every touch, kiss, whisper, the way he ran his fingers through my hair, the way his blue eyes stared back into mine with such adoration. I would have captured every. Single. Moment.

  Anger is an emotion I’m accustomed to, but not towards myself. Riley only knew what I told him, what I wanted him to know. Looking back on that fateful night, I realize everything that has contributed to our demise is my entire fault. For the last two years, I thought I could forget my past and move on as if none of it ever mattered. But I was wrong, so wrong. My past came back to bite me in the ass and it spewed a wrath that not only affected me, but the love of my life and his family, too. A domino effect, of sorts.

  Trusts were broken.

  People were hurt.

  The alarm on my phone blares, a sound that once made me groan with annoyance, but which now no longer bothers me. When I got home from Riley’s, the night my world went to shit, I called the diner and requested Dave switch me to the
morning shift. So now, my schedule consists of going into work at five in the morning, getting off at noon, coming home, and climbing back in my bed. It’s monotonous but when you’re numb, you just carry on through the motions of the day anyway. Even when your world crumbles down around you, the rest of the world still goes on living. I’ve learned to anesthetize myself to the rest of the world.

  I roll out of bed, brush my teeth and hair, and pull on my clothes. It’s the same shit, just a different fucking day. As I walk out of my room, my heart jolts in my body when I see Jen’s silhouette highlighted by the moon where she sits on the couch.

  “You on your way to work?” Her voice is soft in our quiet apartment.

  “Yeah.” I nod. My tone is even, flat, emotionless.

  I bypass her to pick my purse up off the bookshelf. As I’m securing the strap over my shoulder, Jen whispers, “I wish you’d talk to me.”

  See? I’ve not only hurt myself, but everyone else around me suffers from my actions, too. I clutch a hold of the straps as I sigh. “I know.”

  “I know you’re hurting,” she states and all I want to say is ‘well, no shit, captain obvious’ but I don’t. Instead, I remain silent and unmoving.

  “Talk to me,” she pleads and I can hear the crack in her voice.

  I walk to the door and open it, but stop. Without looking back at her, I admit, “Hurt barely scratches the surface of what I’m feeling.”

  “Kels,” she rushes out.

  I cringe from the nickname she gave me when we were in college, the name Riley called me, too. “I have to go. And it’s Kelsey now,” I whisper.

  Without giving her the chance to say anything else, I shut the door and escape to the confines of my car. I can’t catch my breath as all the emotions I’ve been suppressing come bubbling up to the surface. Just when I thought I couldn’t cry anymore, a rogue tear betrays me. I wish all the love I felt for Riley would turn to hate. Maybe then I wouldn’t hurt as bad. But I can’t hate him because I love him too damn much.

  The chime above the door goes off as I walk into Smokey’s. The new girl, whose name I never bothered to learn, the one who has taken over my old shift, waves at me with a genuine smile on her face from behind the counter. I lift the corners of my lips in an emotionless attempt at a grin. As I make my over to where she stands, she asks happily, “How was your night?”

  “The same as it’s been for the past two weeks,” I answer with a shrug, my tone even, detached.

  A look of concern crosses her features. I don’t want nor need anybody to be concerned about me. I. Am. Just. Fucking. Fine.

  “Hey Kelsey,” Dante shouts from the doorway of the kitchen, garnering my attention. “Can you come here real quick?” he asks, nodding his head towards the inside of the kitchen.

  I nod, leaving the new girl behind.

  “Thanks,” I tell him as my eyes find a dingy spot on the wall. It’s easier to focus on something else rather than look him in the eyes.

  Out of my peripheral, I see him cross his arms over his chest, his penetrating stare drilling holes into me. “For what?”

  My eyes snap to him, his sarcastic tone drawing a glare from me.

  “Don’t start,” I snarl, “Your sarcas—”

  “Finally,” he sighs with relief as he throws his hands up in the air, “an emotion that isn’t numb or bland or empty.”

  I scowl at him and ball my hands into tight fists at my sides. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look,” he says, his tone soft and sympathetic as he reaches out and takes my hands in his. “Your heart broke. I get it, I do. It fucking sucks.” No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep the tears from welling up or falling. “But this… this walking around numb, not trying to feel anything shit isn’t healthy.”

  I shake my head and lift my shoulder to wipe away the tears now streaming down my face. “How am I supposed to get over this?” I choke out, “When every fucking where I go, memories of him, us, are there, attacking me at every angle?”

  A sob breaks free as Dante pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me. He rocks us back and forth, as I cry. I’ve always heard the first heartache is the worst. But this pain and sense of loss makes me feel like someone has actually died, when in reality, the person I’m grieving over is very much alive and breathing.

  “Shh…,” Dante whispers in my hair. “It’s going to be fine. Eventually you will get over this.”

  “How?” I ask my shaky voice muffled by his apron.

  “Time.”

  “Time heals all, right?” I humph out.

  “It does. As cliché as it may sound, it really does.”

  “Hey, Kelsey,” the girl from up front peeks in through the cutout, calling me, “there’s a guy up here who’s asking for you.”

  I step out of Dante’s embrace while I nod. “Can you ask who it is?”

  She turns around and I can barely hear the murmuring of them talking.

  “Brad,” she says as she peeks back through the cutout.

  My head drops as I heave a deep sigh. “Fuck,” I whisper.

  “I can get rid of him for you,” Dante offers with a sad smile.

  “No. It’s a just a friend of Riley’s.” As soon as his name rolls off my tongue, my eyes screw closed tightly as a shard of pain slices through me.

  Dante’s eyes search my face before he finally nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  With a quick nod, I make my way out into the dining area to see Brad sitting in the same back booth that Riley and I shared. I take a deep breath in and release it on my way over to him. As I approach the table, he turns in his seat, his cobalt eyes finding mine as he gives me a soft smile.

  “Hey,” he offers as I take a seat.

  “Hey.” I nod.

  We sit there for a few seconds in awkward silence until I finally ask, “Why are you here?” It’s not meant to be a rude question. I changed my shift in hopes of not running into him or Riley.

  Brad braces both of his hands against the table as if using it as leverage to help him out of the booth, but then he stops himself. “I know what happened between y’all, at least his side of the story anyway. I need to know yours.” He sighs softly. “I was on my way to work and decided to stop in because I’m sick and tired of my best friend looking and acting like a zombie and just this morning, Jen called my wife to say the exact same thing about you,” he grits out between clenched teeth.

  My posture and tone scream nonchalance, but inside I’m dying at the news of how Riley is taking our breakup. “I’m sure whatever he’s told you is all you need to know.” I shrug.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Because I either need to know how to help him get over you or kick his ass for hurting you.”

  My eyes snap to his and I see the sincerity behind his words. “There’s no story to tell,” I whisper. The damn tears begin to build again and I tilt my head back to look up at the ceiling, willing them not to break free as I swallow the ball of emotion permanently lodged in my throat these days. “I’m the one who hurt him.”

  Silence lingers around us, but I can make out the rustling of the leather against his uniform as he stands to get out of the booth.

  “You know, I never pegged you for a quitter.”

  My head lolls back and forth on my shoulders as I whisper, “Then you read me all wrong.”

  Twenty-eight years it took me to find love.

  Twenty-eight years it took me to find heartache.

  Both are excruciatingly beautiful and painful at the same time because you can’t have one without the other.

  My life is at a stand still and I don’t know how to move forward. One thing I do know though, and that’s that I damn sure can’t go back. I have watched the sun come up and sink down. Days have turned into nights. That is the only constant I have right now. My mattress has a permanent indention of my body in the fetal position molded into it from all my hours lying here in the dark. I rarely eat and when I do, it’s only enou
gh to satisfy a fraction of my hunger. I only shower when I can no longer stand my own stench. It’s been a week since I last saw Brad. Candace has called and called and called, but every time, I let it go to voicemail. Yesterday, I quit my job because Dave gave me an ultimatum. He pulled me into the office and told me my attitude was completely unacceptable. He tried to dig and prod his way through my protective exterior, asking questions about what was going on with me. When I told him to mind his own damn business, he slapped me with an ultimatum. Shape the fuck up or get out. So I got the fuck out.

  When I got home that day, Jen had come back to the house for some documents she forgot and was standing in the kitchen when I walked through the door. I didn’t want to deal with her barrage of questions, so I simply informed her that I quit my job, but not to worry because I had at least four months’ worth of rent and my half of the bills saved up. She knows and understands the hell I’m going through, so when she tried to tell me it was all going to work out in the end, I shook my head and told her to save her pity for someone else.

  The decisions I made by not telling Riley everything about my past left him blindsided when it all came spilling out. I’ve put myself in my own personal hell and now I have to deal with it. No one should pity me. I did this to myself.

  The one highlight of this week is that I’m no longer crying. No, I’m just wallowing in despair. To be honest, I don’t know which is worse. All I do know is that I only get some peace and my heart doesn’t hurt as bad when I’m sleeping. The mind is a powerful thing and in my dreams, I’m still with Riley and we’re happy and together. Sleep is the only form of comfort I have to turn to but as soon as I wake up, reality comes crashing back down on me with such a force, I feel gutted all over again.

  “Where the fuck is she?” I hear a familiar voice through my door. I’d know that southern drawl anywhere. Candace.

  “I told you… won’t get out of… I don’t… anymore,” Jen’s words are a jumbled mess and I assume that my two friends have come to try and shake me out of my funk.

  All I can say is good luck with that because I deserve to feel this way.