“You can take it. I don’t mind. I know you can’t just unplug like us common folk.”
“No it’s fine,” he says calmly. The truth is, however, I am still curious about his earlier call. Something about it didn’t sit well with me. I know it seems paranoid, but when you are with someone for a while, even someone who is a great liar like Taylor, you pick up on certain vibes.
“Okay then,” I say, somewhat suspiciously.
“Is there a problem?” he asks. Apparently, I am not the only one who picks up on vibes.
“Nope.” I don’t have any ammo, so I choose to table this potential battle.
Despite showering on the plane, I feel the need to freshen up again in our penthouse bathroom. “Do you want to join?” I ask Taylor. These past couple of weeks, I have become accustomed to him showering with or bathing me in some way, so it feels strange to go in alone.
“Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll try to catch you,” he says, winking at me.
I leave the door to the starkly white European-style bathroom ajar as I run the shower and undress, faintly smiling to myself as I think back to our fun on the plane. Through the space of the open door, I spy Taylor pacing, his phone against his ear. I try and listen, but soon realize he is speaking French. I step in the shower and tilt my head back, letting the warm water soothe my travel-weary body. Though, I must admit, not nearly as weary as I would have been flying commercial. Maybe I CAN get used to this.
I open my eyes to find Taylor standing just on the other side of the glass, and let out a startled yell. “Jesus fucking Christ Taylor!” I call out. I don’t take well to being snuck up on these days.
“I was trying not to scare you, but I guess that backfired.”
“What’s up?” I ask, sensing he has no intention of getting in the shower with me.
“I have to go to Geneva. I’m sorry.”
“What? Geneva? Why?”
“I’ll be back by tomorrow, and then I promise I’ll be all yours.”
“I can come with you.”
“You shouldn’t. I’ll be in and out and very busy. We can always go back there together.”
“Is everything okay? What happened?”
“Yes, it’s just H.I. stuff, I don’t want to bore you with the details.”
“But I’m curious, for you to just up and leave to Switzerland like this…it must be a big deal.”
“Shyla, this is stressful enough. I just want to go and come back and forget about it. I am sorry, but me being spontaneous means that shit like this comes up.”
“I understand. I just feel like you’re hiding something.”
“This again?”
“This has nothing to do with anything but right now.”
“I promise, I just have take care of some stuff. And I have had enough talking about it with my own employees, so can we not? Remember, you left H.I. I didn’t want you to leave.” I sigh, realizing our conversation is going in circles. “It takes about four hours to get there. I am calling an emergency meeting, so I need to leave now. By the way, I am doing that so I can come back to you faster. I am making a whole lot of people’s evenings suck just so I can make it back here tomorrow afternoon in time for us to go to Hella…shit.”
“Hella? Well that gives me something to research,” I quip. “Whatever the hell-a is happening at work must really have you stressed out. I don’t think I have ever heard you fumble a secret like you just did.”
“Hardy har har. Trust me, you have no idea.”
“Okay, okay. I’m being a cranky bitch. You see what happens when you spoil a person? They complain that you have to work after you fly them to Iceland in an air-mansion.”
“Trust me, I want to stay even more than you want me to. But I’ll get this out of the way and be back before you know it,” he says, turning on his heels to exit the bathroom.
“I wish Harrison was here.”
“Excuse me?” Taylor says, twisting his neck back to look at me suspiciously. Oops.
“I mean, this place is so foreign and I am all alone. I don’t know a lick of Icelandic.” Taylor’s eyes calm, and I see in an instant his thoughts race back to where I was just a couple of days before.
“Will you be okay? I mean, really okay? Have you been taking your pills?”
“Yes, Taylor. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just meant…don’t worry. It’s only a night and a morning and you’ll be back right?”
“Yes, I plan to return late-afternoon. I wish he was here too. It would make me feel better. But I know you’ll be fine. You’ve met the owners, they are lovely people and if you need anything the concierge cannot provide, they will attend to you.”
“I will. Be fine.”
“And if you feel sad, call me. Don’t stay inside of your head. Being alone in one’s head is a dangerous thing.”
“I will.”
“As for something to do, talk to the concierge about shopping. Admittedly, I probably did a horrendous job packing your bags.”
I smile. “I was wondering about that.”
“We’re going to experience too many climates. I figured you would want to pick things up as you went along.” He looks at his phone. “Shit. I really have to go.” I exit the shower and throw on a robe to see him out.
“I can’t wait to come back to you. And don’t forget what we discussed in the plane,” he smirks.
“I think I am in for it because you won’t even tell me the rule I missed.”
“I win either way,” he says, kissing me softly on the lips.
“Will Henry be there?” I ask, as I have grown quite fond of that prick. Whenever Taylor goes out of town without me, I like knowing he has a friend around, it makes me feel like someone is looking out for him. I know it’s weird. Taylor is the person people should fear (his own words), but I think everyone needs someone who has their back, no matter how powerful they are.
“Uh, yeah,” Taylor says facing away from me as he grabs his wallet off of the nightstand. His mind is elsewhere. This shouldn’t concern me. This is who Taylor is: he can zero in on me like we are in a vacuum and only I exist, but there have always been times when he seems lost in his own mind in places so deep and dark that he won’t share them, even with me. “I’ll tell him you said hello,” Taylor says in haste as he leaves the apartment without kissing me. And then there is stillness. I am alone again. The whirlwind of the past two days suddenly turns into absolute quiet. I call the concierge to cancel all of our dinner reservations and opt to stay in, still fatigued by all of the travel.
I grab my laptop to research Hella, but my mind wanders. Something doesn’t fit. On paper it all makes sense: business men have to travel, but the odds of him being able to pull off a quick visit to Geneva are slim. It feels pre-arranged. He also vents to me about the goings-on at H.I. He presents a professional and assured attitude to his staff, so when he needs to bitch, I am the person he comes to. And now, suddenly, he doesn’t want to talk to me about H.I. It doesn’t help that I have nothing to do on this evening except let my mind wander.
Distraction is the perfect antidote to my gut suspicions. But, I don’t want to speak to Kristin, I am just not ready to deal with all of her concern and prying questions. I am afraid that my fragile state will crumble. Then my mother, I have been avoiding her since she told me about my father. I don’t plan on doing it indefinitely, but I am still processing my involvement in Eric’s death and I don’t want to juggle that with the stress of reconciliation with her. When I get back, I will call her, maybe even visit and work things out. By then, I should be ready.
That leaves me with Lizzy and Henry. I do a quick mental calculation. Lizzy would be at work and likely difficult to get a hold of.
Instead of calling, I text her.
Shyla:
Hey woman! It’s been a while. I don’t know if you heard but Taylor and I are going away for a bit. He left me in Iceland to go to Switzerland and now I am sitting here with my thumb up my ass.
It o
nly takes a few minutes to get a response from her.
Lizzy:
You’re alive! WOMAN, we need to talk soon. I have so much to catch you up on. And, I know Taylor’s been stressed out, but he wouldn’t/couldn’t tell me why. He hasn’t shown his face in the office once in like 3 weeks. He has sounded like a wreck these past couple of weeks. So unlike him. Is everything okay? Are you okay? What’s he doing in Switzerland?
Shyla:
Yes, I am. I’m sorry I have been MIA. I had some personal family drama arise. It’s still hard to discuss. I don’t know when we are coming back, but I want to get together as soon as we do. Taylor is in some sort of emergency meeting.
I step away from my phone to let in room service.
Lizzy:
Sorry to hear that sweetie :( Of course! Henry says hi, by the way. We both don’t know anything about that meeting, but I am sure the shitstorm will rain on us eventually, lol.
———
Now Henry’s freaking out that he doesn’t know about this meeting. Haha!
Shyla:
He’s with you?
Lizzy:
Yup, we are lunching in my office going over some enthralling project proposals.
Shyla:
He’s not in Europe?
Lizzy:
Not as far as I can tell seeing as he’s eating a salad right across from me. What’s up?
Shyla:
Nothing, I had assumed he was going to go to Geneva to meet with Taylor. I thought he was out of the states. Taylor had mentioned Henry was putting out some fires in Russia with the deal we closed a while back.
Lizzy:
No, we are barely even breaking ground on that yet. Those projects take a while to get going, it’s still in the rendering stages.
I claw my fingers through my hair as anxiety fill my veins, coursing through my body like a poison that spreads faster with each racy thud of my heart.
Shyla:
Well tell him I said hi and I’ll talk to you soon. And tell Henry NOT to mention anything to Taylor. If he’s not supposed to know then it’ll come back to me opening my big mouth. Hopefully we can catch each other over the weekend with the time difference.
Lizzy:
You bet luv! We miss you!!! Lips are sealed! :x
Unable to sit still, I pace throughout the room frenetically. What is Taylor hiding? Do I call him out on his lie? Actually, it’s more like lies. He told me Henry was putting out fires from the Russian project, he said Henry would be in Geneva. Nothing makes sense. If Taylor were up to something, surely he wouldn’t do such a shitty job. That is unless this was truly impromptu and he didn’t have to time to get Henry in on the lie.
What the hell is going on?
The possibilities run through my mind…is he meeting up with an old sub? He discussed on the plane how things between us are different than it was for him in the past. Maybe he misses that? Is there a secret business dealing? Was he coerced? But he promised he would be back tomorrow. He said it with such certainty, as if he had a specific timeline.
Suddenly, the fear and doubt I had kept at bay comes surging to the surface. What if he’s lying about something much bigger? And just like that, my chest begins to tighten, my vision narrows. I am certain I will die. I don’t know when or how, but I know that death will occur soon and inevitably. I’ve felt this before in my life, and several times these past few weeks, but it doesn’t make the feeling any less terrifying:
I am having a panic attack.
My fingertips go numb and no matter how deeply I inhale, it’s like there isn’t enough oxygen in the air. I crawl my way to the bathroom floor and hug my knees, chanting to myself that everything will be fine. This feeling is not real. Take deep breaths. You are not going to die. Taylor will not die.
I told Taylor I would call him, but I don’t want him to hear me like this, and I am not sure I want to speak to him right now. Not right after I caught him in a lie. I just need to make it through this. I need to let it pass and then I’ll be fine when I come out on the other side. Then maybe I can figure out what the fuck Taylor is lying about. Right now, I need to survive this moment.
It’s so hard not to be angry with myself. I had been doing so well. And maybe 15 hours doesn’t seem like a lot, but when every minute of every hour you felt like you were drowning in never-ending sorrow, fifteen fucking hours of laughter, mind-blowing sex, restful sleep, and good food feels like heaven on earth. In fact, 15 hours of feeling anything but numb sadness broken up with moments of sheer terror is a welcome break.
A panic attack feels like a black hole, independent of time. You feel like everything is moving too fast and your heart might explode while at the same time, time moves so slowly that it feels like the anguish might never end. This attack lasts a couple of hours and I am exhausted by the time it is over. I collapse on the bed feeling an almost euphoric high and relief having emerged from the depths of the void.
***
This time, Taylor is not there to hold me as I wake up from the recurring nightmare. And despite the terror I feel when the man who shoots me in the face is the very same man who holds me when I wake, I desperately miss his binding embrace. I need him. The clock reads 2:13am.
If you feel sad, call me. Don’t stay inside of your head.
I don’t want to interrogate Taylor, or fight him. There’s plenty of time for that. I just want to know he is okay, that even though I can’t feel him, he exits outside of me. I want to hear the soothing melody of his deep and assured voice tell me anything, even if it is a lie.
“Hello? Are you okay?” he asks in a state of half-asleep alarm.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I can just call tomorrow.”
“No, it’s okay,” he says, clearing his voice. “I went to sleep not too long ago. Talk to me.”
“I…” and the wave of sadness creeps in. I feel so weak. I hate myself right now.
“You had the nightmare?”
“Yes.” Then I remember how much it must hurt him, that he is the monster that comes for me in the dark night.
“I’m here.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could be all better. I wish I wasn’t so fucked up.”
“You’re telling me,” Taylor says. We both snicker wistfully.
“I hope you understand that I am giving you everything.” Please Taylor, don’t break my heart with whatever it is you are hiding.
“I know.”
“And I will be strong again.”
“You are.” For a moment, sitting in the complete darkness of the bedroom, with just his voice in the air, it feels like he is sitting beside me. “Shyla?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you understand that I am giving you everything.” But I can’t find myself to respond with the certitude that Taylor did. Not when I know he has just lied to me. The phone is silent on both ends for a few breaths. “I am, Shy. Everything.”
“Okay.”
“And you make me weak. Strength is easy. It’s vulnerability that’s difficult. You expose me.” I nod. I am his weakness, for better or for worse. “Do you want to listen to music with me? We could fall asleep together, phone bills be damned.”
I smile faintly. “Are you going to be the DJ?”
“Our executive apartments here in Geneva have sweet Bose sound systems. Just like the infomercials. The shit our company spends money on.” Our? He must be referring to the Holdens or the board.
“Surprise me.”
“Hold on doll, I am going to put you on speaker.” I manage to smile as I hear him fumble with the phone. A few seconds pass, and then I hear what I believe is an organ playing.
“Wait I know that song…”
“It’s old. ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale.’”
“Yes! It’s a nice one. I haven’t heard it in a while.”
“I have an idea, but it only works if you promise to go along in advance.” Taylor and his trademark illusion of choice.
“Okay…” I say hesitantly.<
br />
“Dance with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry I had to leave so abruptly, so will you leave me to be a fool over here, dancing alone?”
“Oh, god. Okay, I’ll dance.”
“You have to put your arms up, like my shoulders are there. I’m holding your waist over here by the way.” I place the phone on the bed and hook my hands in the air above me.
“You are so weird, Taylor.”
“You’re doing it too aren’t you?”
“Yes. Please tell me you are too and that you didn’t just sucker me into looking like an asshole.” I imagine him laying on his bed, smiling, with his hands behind his head and his ankles crossed.
“Nope, I look like an even larger asshole over here, just by sheer size…Well then, you are just as weird as me. A match made in fucked-up heaven.”
I sway side to side just beside my bed, my hands up on Taylor’s invisible shoulders, and the fear, the sadness, is gone. We are in different countries, slow dancing together for the first time and I wonder to myself in a moment like this, is it even worth fighting over a stupid little lie? Does surrendering mean letting everything go?
Chapter 9
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is a text from Taylor on my screen:
It was nice sleeping with you telephonically. Had to hang up. Meetings. OX.
The exhaustion from the panic attack and night terror mixed with Taylor’s comfort made for a deep sleep. I walk up to the gray blackout curtains and slide them open, appreciating my view of the city during its few hours of daylight: small buildings and houses with sloped roofs, painted in colors as diverse as a crayon box, a vivid contrast to the monochromatic arctic backdrop of snow-covered slopes and icy waters. It’s the first time in weeks I have woken up with so much energy and the urge to shop compels me. I ring up the concierge, who arranges for a car service to take me to the best shops in Reykjavik which are located on Laugavegur street.
unStrapped Page 9
