It's A Shame

by Hansen, C. E.

  “Sleep somewhere else? Where?”

  “At this point, I just don’t care…as long as it’s not here. Go stay at the Asbury. I’m so mad right now I could scream.”

  “You have been.” he blinked at me. His usually gorgeous eyes bloodshot and distant.

  “What?!”

  “Screaming.”

  “Okay, okay, that’s enough, get out. I want you out. I’m really hurt and angry right now I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here, with me. I want you to leave...It’s better if you just get out of here.”

  Then the flood, I couldn’t hold them back anymore and they ran freely down my cheeks. I tasted their saltiness as they slid over my lips.

  I turned and walked into the kitchen. My shoulder colliding with his as I passed. I took a bottle of water from the fridge and after opening it, drank half the bottle, and then turned to him, “Why don’t you go hook up with Lauren, find a nameless bar and talk over your problems together, because you sure as hell are not talking to me.”

  I hadn’t realized I was yelling so loud until I heard the echo in the kitchen.

  Cole quietly turned, picked up his jacket and placed his key to my apartment on the table near the door. He turned to look at me briefly, a distant look…a sadness settled in his eyes. He looked empty, void, and then, just like that, he walked out.

  I stood there shaking with anger, frustration, and pain. My emotions ran the gamut in slow motion. I felt like I was in a car wreck; everything louder and more pronounced, more clear. Common sense totally abandoned me.

  We’ve never fought before. Hell, we’ve never said an unkind word to one another before, and I was angry with myself for acting so irrational.

  I realized I may have just pushed away the very person I wanted to hold onto so tightly, and suddenly…he was gone. A burning ache grew in my belly and like some nut job I suddenly became terrified at losing him. What if that was her goal all along? Did I play into her game? Did I give her just what she wanted? I swung open the door and watched the elevator doors open.

  “Cole…wait!” I shouted. But he just stepped in and turned to face me. The last thing I saw before the doors shut, was the pained look on his face…and his vacant stare.

  “FUCK. Fuck me. FUCK. Goddamn Fuck!”

  I turned to go back inside and looked up. Down the hall, around the slight bend in the hallway stood Michelle. She was standing in her doorway rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and behind her stood Detective Dean Johansen, bare-chested and barefooted, wearing only his pants. His hands rested possessively on her shoulders.

  “Jesus Christ!” I said looking directly at them both. I stepped inside and slammed my door, hard.

  I looked down at the table where Cole left his key and felt an ice-cold chill run down the length of my spine as an uneasy feeling washed over me.

  To say I had a restless sleep was an understatement. You would have to sleep a little to qualify having a restless sleep. I didn’t sleep at all. I kept running the conversation…what conversation? Who was I trying to convince? It was a fight.

  I kept repeating the words we said…I said…to Cole over and over again through my head. I know I overreacted, I know I was wrong. I should have just let him tell me everything after he had a few hours sleep.

  He did look like he was about to fall over. He was obviously emotionally drained and tired…but what do I do, I scream at him like a harridan. I pushed him away. I threw him out! And after everything he has done for me, my family and my friend…when he needed me to be a little understanding, what do I do?

  I walked around the apartment. Trying to reason with myself. It wasn’t working. I knew in my heart I was wrong. Emotional exhausted, I told myself that we both just need a few hours sleep, a little time apart to cool off, but jealousy eats at you, turns you into someone you don’t even like.

  He’d been gone just a few hours and I already missed him terribly. A big empty hole lay where my heart used to be and an overwhelming feeling of guilt took over my good sense, rendering me useless.

  There was only one way to fix what I broke. I quickly jumped in the shower and got dressed. I called ahead to have my car brought up from the garage and quickly drove, albeit a little too erratic, towards the Asbury. I would explain what an ass I was. I wanted…no needed, him to know I wanted to be there for him, like he was for me countless times.

  My tears, hot and stinging, fell unchecked down my cheeks. I swiped them away with the back of my hand as I pushed the accelerator with my foot. How could I be so stupid? He has never lied to me and I doubted him. He must feel so betrayed.

  I panicked for a moment, what if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he’s angry with me?

  With my heart pounding wildly in my chest, I pulled up outside the Asbury and jumped out of my car with the engine still running, leaving the valet staring at my back. I ran through the lobby stopping only to wipe my tears away so I could see where I was going.

  I rushed over to the reception desk. Stopping in front of the pretty brunette behind the counter and after introducing myself, somewhat incoherently, asked if she would please call James.

  I needed James, and his key, to operate the private elevator that would get me up to the penthouse level. Where I would stand outside Cole’s door and beg him to let me in. The receptionist looked at me oddly, then ever the professional, called James.

  “He’ll be right down Miss Preston,” she said smiling warmly. “If you would like to have a seat, I’ll direct him to you when he arrives.”

  “No…thank you though. I’ll wait here.”

  It dawned on me that my standing at the counter crying like an idiot would probably make guests feel just a tad uncomfortable, so I moved to the end of the counter and stood there waiting for James, a little more out of the way. I laughed wryly at myself, picturing what I must look like, dark circles from lack of sleep, puffy eyelids, and tear-stained cheeks…suddenly, I was embarrassed. I lowered my head in an attempt to hide my face.

  My eyes traveled the length of the lobby as I watched the business people rushing off to their business meetings. The tourists collected at the desk seeking directions and recommendations. Life went on around me; even when it felt like mine jumped the rails like a train wreck. I looked up and spotted James to my left and watched as he closed the distance between us, and smiled weakly.

  Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of red caught my attention and I caught a glimpse of someone, a woman, exiting the last elevator, the private elevator…Coles’ private elevator.

  A tremor ran through my body and I nearly crumbled as my strength left me in a whoosh. Walking towards the lobby, adjusting her clothing and patting her hair into place, was Lauren Buckley sporting a lovely ‘just fucked’ look. Oblivious to the fact I was watching her. I began to shake uncontrollably. My stomach curled and I felt sick. My fingers whitened as I held onto the counter to keep myself from falling.

  “Grace, so nice to see you again.” I heard James’ voice as he spoke to me, but was unable to concentrate on what it was he was saying.

  “Grace…are you okay? Are you feeling ill?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Are you alright?”

  He reached out and grabbed my elbow as my knees fought to hold the weight of my body up. I took a deep breath and slowly straightened. I mechanically turned to look at James.

  “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely, not recognizing my own voice. I felt a surge of adrenaline as my anger surfaced to the top, burying the pitiful creature that stood in my shoes a few moments ago.

  “Mr. Grayson just needs a few minutes before I bring you up.” He smiled half-heartedly. “I hope it’s okay that I told him. I mean, it wasn’t a surprise, your being here was it?” When I didn’t answer right away he continued, “He wasn’t expecting you, my call got him out of bed.”

  That was the wrong thing to say to me. I pulled my shoulders back and glared at him.

  “You know what James…I ch
anged my mind…” He shrank under my penetrating gaze. “Could you give Mr. Grayson a message from me?”

  “Of course,” he said nodding.

  “Tell him I said to go fuck himself. Just like that. He’ll understand.” I turned and walked out the door, the same door I had run in minutes ago with the hope of having hot make-up sex.

  Looks like someone beat me to the punch. Lauren 1; Grace zip.

  Chapter 13

  I hit the decline button on my iPhone…again.

  He has got to be kidding me right now. He seriously thinks I’m going to speak to him…after seeing that bitch! He’s got to be out of his mind.

  I needed time to get my thoughts together, to figure out what I was going to do. I was so confused and hurt. I wanted to think it out carefully, plan what I’m going to say to him. I needed to be less emotional. I wanted him to be perfectly clear when I tell him… Fuck, now Michelle’s calling…I declined that call too.

  Seems like everyone I love was either fucking me over, or just plain fucking. I felt totally betrayed. Michelle and her secrecy, and Cole and his…Why did he do this to me?

  Of course, thinking about what he had done brought on another wave of tears. The emptiness inside me was debilitating. I could barely hold my head up. Picking the phone up seemed to take too much energy. I just lay back, staring at the ceiling. I dropped my phone on the rug, then I pulled the blanket up over my head.

  I didn’t want to leave the confines of the cocoon I created on the couch. Even if I did have the energy, which I didn’t, and I absolutely refused to go into the bedroom where Cole’s belongings were, where we lay in the bed, where we’d made love countless times into the wee hours of the morning.

  Is he doing that with Lauren now?

  My stomach rebelled, and I tasted bile on the back of my tongue. My chest pained me and it felt like my head was in a vise grip, being twisting tighter and tighter. I’ve never felt this kind of pain. It was as if Cole carved my heart out of my chest leaving the gaping hole exposed, oversensitive to the air, like a cavity. I was empty. I felt like a fool. How did I ever believe he could love me? How naïve was I?

  He told me he loved only me, needed only me, and wanted only me. But then he told only me a lot of things.

  Lies. All lies.

  I wanted to hit something, someone. Actually, I just wanted to hit her. Hurt her, like I was hurting now.

  I fell asleep crying, emotionally exhausted.

  I woke up hours later to find I’d slept through the entire day. The darkness swallowed everything—me, the couch, the tables, everything. I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face. All I could make out was the dull blue glow of the clock on the cable box, 9:42 PM. I hadn’t planned on falling asleep, let alone for so long. So, of course, I didn’t leave a light on.

  I sat up and tugged blindly at the blanket twisted around my legs. When I finally freed my limbs and stood up, I felt sick, and a bit light-headed. A wave of nausea swished through my stomach. I assumed from not eating or drinking anything all day.

  I extended my arms and shuffled my feet towards the kitchen, feeling along the wall, trying to find the light switch. I tripped over something in my path and thankfully stumbled into the fridge. I steadied myself and opened the door wide letting the light slowly spill out in an arc, illuminating the immediate area.

  I looked around trying to get my bearings when I spotted something that immediately caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. Someone else was here. Someone had put a suitcase, my suitcase, on the floor between the living room and the kitchen. I panicked. Leaving the refrigerator door wide open I ran without thinking towards the front door.

  I heard something crash to the floor behind me and wasn’t about to stick around to find out that I wasn’t the one that knocked it down. I felt along the door for the chain, fumbling as I tried to lift it up. I could feel my heart beating in my head as I frantically ran my clumsy fingers over the chain, tugging at it, pulling on the doorknob.

  I finally managed to lift the chain and yank the door open. It took a second to adjust to the light in the hallway. Then I took off running towards Michelle’s apartment, tripping and stumbling along the way. I stood there banging on her door like a lunatic with both hands.

  This was right out of the pages of a horror movie.

  The door was yanked open seconds later. The look on her face told me how scared I was.

  “Grace…what’s wrong? What happened?” she asked pulling me inside, the tenor in her voice belied her fear. Her eyes darted left to right, trying to see behind me.

  “Shelle…someone is in my apartment…someone is there…” I managed to stammer.

  She shut the door to her apartment and leaned against the doorframe.

  “Dean!” she yelled out.

  Detective Johansen walked out of Michelle’s bedroom buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his opened jeans. I didn’t have the wherewithal right then to put one and one together.

  “Detective…there is someone in my apartment,” I spewed out, my voice sounding a bit over-anxious, even to me.

  He immediately walked over to the counter and opened the kitchen cabinet. My thoughts went from total fright to…is he actually hungry now?

  He pulled his gun out and examined it. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Then he pulled on a metal slide and pushed something in and another part popped out the bottom of the handle. He tilted it and then slapped it back in. Walking towards the front door holding his weapon against his thigh he opened the door and walked out.

  We watched as he slowly, deliberately, slinked along the wall towards my apartment, looking very much like he belonged in some network crime show like CSI or SVU. It was surreal. If it weren’t so scary, the sight of him hugging the wall would be hilarious. He reached my door and pushed it open, cautiously stepping over the threshold; both arms extended holding the gun in out in front of him.

  “Stay in there…” he whispered as he turned back to us. “Michelle – stay,” he commanded pointing his finger in her direction.

  He was dead serious.

  I turned to look at Michelle whose face contorted with worry and I totally lost it. I started to laugh. I was laughing like some crazy twit, hysterically. I mean hold your chest and try to breathe kind of laughing. I laughed so hard tears streamed down my face and I had to lean on the wall for support.

  Michelle turned to look at me, and from the expression on her face, she clearly thought I’d gone over the edge. She leaned in towards me and sniffed in, loudly.

  “I haven’t been drinking.” I continued laughing the words barely understandable.

  “What the fuck are you laughing about?” she asked, her voice steady.

  “’STAY MICHELLE? Seriously? Stay?” I laughed so hard, I snorted. “Did he really just say that? The thought of you ‘staying’.” I made quotation marks in the air with my fingers, “‘Stay Michelle’, ruff, ruff,” I barked.

  She continued to look at me through narrowed eyes.

  Her fear was equally split between me, the friend who was ready to be carted off to the Looney bin, and Dean, who at that moment was roving around my apartment with his gun at his side looking for my apartment creeper…UGH.

  She kept the door open a few inches, one eye on my apartment door, one on her crazy-assed friend.

  I was just calming down from my hysterical outburst, when Dean came back inside and placed his gun back into Michelle’s cracker cabinet. I know this because I eat them all.

  “No one there now.” He looked directly at me.

  I guess my credibility faded when Dean took one look at me trying to recover from a laughing fit, so I quickly wiped the smile off my face and put my head down, trying to at least look like I was serious.

  “Sorry…” although I really wasn’t. “I saw…felt…did you see a suitcase near the door?” I was trying to gain some trustworthiness. I didn’t want either of them to think I cried wolf. There was someone there. There had to be someo
ne there.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that was not there when I got home today,” I said in my defense.

  Suddenly the realization of why I was home alone in the first place hit me like a sledgehammer.

  Cole was gone. He was back with Lauren the woman he proclaimed to not even like.

  The tortured look on my face must have said enough. Michelle took two short steps to where I stood and put her arms around me.

  “Grace, what’s wrong?”

  Well, that little push was all this girl needed, for the Hoover Dam to implode. I sobbed; racking sounds that left me whimpering like an injured animal. My body trembled with fatigue. I was heartbroken. Michelle led me to the sofa and I robotically sat and cried. I cried incessantly. I cried like I’d just lost the love of my life.

  I did.

  Only after Dean called the police, who did a more thorough job searching my apartment, did I go back, dragging Michelle behind me. I pointed wordlessly to the suitcase and Dean nodded. I knelt down beside it and opening the two locks, then pulled the two sides apart revealing…Cole’s clothing. I stood so abruptly you would have thought the suitcase was on fire. I was just staring down, my mouth hanging open… it was everything except his dress shirts and suits.

  “Oh my God. He is leaving.” I trailed off. Not caring the tiniest bit who was there and for what reason. HE WAS LEAVING ME!!

  I wasn’t able to focus long enough to tell my brain what to do next.

  “So it was Cole that was here tonight…in the dark?” Dean said suspiciously.

  I first looked at him, then Michelle, and was met with two sets of eyes filled to the brim with pity.

  “Don’t you dare look at me like that, Shelle,” I spurted out. I turned my head, not willing to look in her direction.

  I was angry, hurt and not in the mood for sympathy.

  “Grace, you should just call him and just ask him if he was here tonight,” she said empathy oozing out of every word. “He would tell you…he loves…” her voice faded into the stillness surrounding us. “He’d tell you if he’d been here.” She said hopefully.