I decided to find out what was going on. I ran after him, which proved to be a difficult task because his strides were longer than mine. I finally caught up to him on the sidewalk.
"Hey," I panted. "Atkins, wait up!"
He stopped walking and turned to me. He didn't say a word, he just glared at me.
"Are you okay?" I asked with concern. "What's going on?"
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?"
"What?"
"Why don't you drop the act, Georgie? You don't really care about me, do you? You never did. You only cared for yourself."
His words stung me. Where was his anger coming from?
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. My voice shook and I hated how weak it sounded. I couldn't understand why he was suddenly spouting hurtful words at me.
He scoffed and said, "I'm tired of this little game of yours. It's over, you hear me? I don't want to play your games anymore. I don't want to see your face anymore. Stay away from me."
There was something in his eyes that showed he meant what he said, that everything had changed and there was no way to fix it. There was an absolute finality to it, like a door being closed and locked forever.
The soft snow crunched under his steps and his figure receded into the distance while I stood in the curb, tears streaming down my eyes.
It was like a deja vu, a few months before I also stood on the curb, with tears falling down my face on the night I found out Matt was cheating on me. It snowed then just like today.
When Matt broke my heart I thought I could never feel as much pain as I did that day. But this was way worse. Because with Matt, I knew we were growing apart and it was a ticking time bomb. But with Atkins, it blew up in my face and I didn't see it coming.
Bone deep chill seeped into my body and it was more than just the weather. The steady stream of tears were stinging my cheeks, my breath came out in puffs of smoke. My eyes were still trained on the direction of where Atkins walked away, willing him to come back.
But he never did.
I couldn't lose my shit on the curb so I returned to the office and headed straight to the bathroom. My eyes were puffy and red with the tears. I hated how I looked, so useless and defeated.
Atkins was a mistake. I could see that now. I thought we had something but it turned out to be just my imagination. I had no one to blame but me. Why didn't I learn a lesson with Matt? Why did I ever jump from the pan to the flame?
I smiled a mirthless smile at the mirror, the irony of it all wasn't lost on me. I splashed my face with cold water, hoping that the puffiness in my eyes would subside.
When I exited the bathroom, Mariz was on the other side of the door. Our gaze met and I watched as her expression turned from mild surprise to concern. Her eyes searched my face, trying to discern what happened to my red-rimmed eyes.
"Hey," she said softly. "Are you okay?"
One eye contact was all it took for her to know that something was wrong and I silently thank her for always being there for me.
I shook my head and said, "No."
No matter how hard I tried to control it, the tears let out again.
Don't cry. Don't cry. But the more I chanted it to myself, the more tears leaked out of my eyes.
"What's wrong, Georgie?"
"Everything," I sobbed.
Venting Atkins out of my system was good, venting him out of my system over shots of vodka was better. The alcohol made me bolder, gave me the courage to say out loud the things that I wouldn't be able to say if I was sober. The whole time I was talking, Mariz was empathetically listening to me, nodding in the right places, eying me with a mix of concern and pity.
"Looking back, I now realized that getting involved with him was wrong. I was too quick to jump from one man to another. I should've thought it through."
"Oh, honey." She wrapped a hand around mine. "It wasn't your fault he turned out to be such a jerk. It was so cruel what he did to you."
I nodded in agreement and tipped back another shot of vodka.
"I can't believe he did that to you. And here I am, thinking he was a good guy," Mariz continued.
She wasn't the only one who thought Atkins was a good guy. I did too.
"I wonder if this was connected to him quitting his job," Mariz mused out loud.
My head whipped around at what she said. "What do you mean he's quitting his job?"
"Remember when he and Lukas had an episode this morning? I heard from Zang that Atkins came into Lukas's office to tell him that he wants to quit his job and go back to Michigan."
Huh.
Should I feel sad about this news? Now that I've seen his true colors I shouldn't feel bad. If anything, this would make things easier for us. I didn't have to see his face every day, I didn't need a reminder of how he broke my heart. In fact, I should feel happy and relieved.
But I didn't. There was only hollowness, like a gaping hole inside my heart.
Losing him was like losing a limb. And the ghost of him still ached and throbbed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Atkins
I never really believed that liquor could drown out your pain but this was a good time to try. So here I was in a little dive bar, with the stale smell of beer, dimly lit room and rowdy crowd.
I watched as little droplets of condensation formed outside my Scotch's glass. I lost count of how many shots I downed but I was smashed enough to not feel like simultaneously curling up like a baby in one corner and punching someone senseless. There was just coldness, apathy and the heaviness of being drunk. I emptied my glass in one gulp, the burning of the whiskey traveled down my throat and settled in my stomach. I signaled the bartender for another shot. He eyed my glass hesitantly, contemplating if it was a good idea to give an already drunk man another shot. He nodded to me and fetched me my order.
I damn hated what she did to me. She was just seeking a distraction, someone who would make her forget her plight for a moment. But dammit I couldn't hate her. Every time I thought about her all that pops in my head was her porcelain skin and plump, red lips.
I took my phone from my jeans' back pocket and started dialing Lukas. Just the thought of her twists the knife in my heart. I knew I couldn't stand seeing her and knowing that I could never have her.
Lukas picked up on the third ring. "Hello," he grunted.
"Lukas? I really am quitting and I'm dead serious."
The rest of the day was a blur. I vaguely remembered Lukas going over to the dive bar to bring me home after he went berserk when I said I wanted to quit my job. Lukas heaved me all the way to my studio apartment, grunting and sweating as he half-dragged and half-carried me up the stairs. Then I ran to the bathroom to puke my guts out. The taste of bile was so nasty in my mouth. I realized, belatedly, that drinking Scotch on an empty stomach wasn't such a bright idea.
My cousin guided me to my bedroom, laid me there and took off my shoes. Bless his soul for being there for me when no one else was. This wasn't the first time he had to clean up my mess. He'd seen worse, we'd been through worse. Even if we squabble now, we used to be partners in crime when we were kids. Growing up together in a Michigan suburb had a way of keeping your friendship strong. And he was my cousin so of course it was sort of his obligation to me my best friend.
When I came to at one AM, Lukas was there in my room, flipping through some of my magazines and making himself comfortable in a chair. He was probably keeping eyes on me so that I didn't choke on my own vomit.
"Good morning, Sunshine."
"What time is it?" I groaned. My mouth tasted like I licked the freaking bathroom floor.
"One in the morning," he said, and laid the magazine on the night stand.
Was the world pin wheeling or was it me? Either way, it didn't do good to my head. It was hard to concentrate on nothing but the pain. My head pounded so hard that I thought it was going to be cracked open.
This wasn't the first time I'd had a hangover, but Scotch kicke
d like a total bitch.
"Jesus H. Christ," I mumbled, cradling my head in my hand.
Lukas stood up and said, "I made some soup for you. You should really eat and drink lots of water. I need you to be well enough before I can slap and talk some sense into you."
True to his words, Lukas did talked some sense into me after eating the soup he made and taking two aspirin tablets. The pounding in my head steadied to a dull throb.
"You can't quit, Atkins. Not now when we have so many projects on our hands," he said.
I knew he was going to argue with me so I came prepared.
"Look, I'm sorry that I have to do this but I really don't want it anymore. If it makes things better I'll help you find a replacement for me before I go."
"Why do you suddenly want to quit being a software developer anyway?"
I have no real answer to this one, at least not an answer I could give to Lukas. I couldn't bring myself to say the real reason for wanting to quit so I just shrugged.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw absently, regarding me with inquiring eyes. Then something clicked in his mind.
"This is about a girl, isn't it? A certain girl who goes by the name of Georgina Harrington." I wanted to slap the wide grin from his face but I owed him for not letting me choke on my own vomit so I just stayed impassive. He wasn't just good with smelling bullshit, he was also a mind-reader. That, or I was really that obvious.
"No," I groaned. "This isn't about her," I lied.
"Right," Lukas said, rolling his eyes. "I know girl problems when I see one."
"I don't want to talk about it," I said.
"Oh but we have to. It'd be good to get it out of your system. So, tell me all about what happened to you and Georgie."
I stayed silent, the words lodged in my throat.
"C'mon," Lukas urged. "Trust me, when you get her out of your system, you'll feel better."
Maybe he was right. I wanted to get Georgie out of my head so badly.
"Promise you won't laugh or anything, okay?"
He nodded. "Promise."
He listened to me when I latched on my story about how I found myself drawn to Georgie, how I fell for her and foolishly thought we could be more. I told him about that afternoon I saw Georgie and Matt in a cafe and how that shattered my world. Lukas was a good listener, his eyes even grew softer when I got to the part where I told him that Georgie shattered me.
Lukas was wrong, telling him about Georgie didn't make me feel better. I felt worse because saying it all out loud made it more real, the pain almost tangible. My eyes swam with unshed tears but there was no way I was going to cry in front of him. I'd save my tears for later when I'm alone in my dark room.
"And Georgie's the reason why you want to quit and move back to Michigan?" Lukas asked afterward.
I looked at him like he was a clueless little child. "Yeah," I confirmed.
It was a cowardly thing to do, to run away, but I wasn't a fan of subjecting myself to daily torture.
"Let me get this straight, you saw Matt and Georgie at a cafe on Wednesday and you think they got back together?"
"Yes," I said impatiently.
"Atkins, you got it all wrong."
I messed up in the most colossal scale, that was for sure.
I could hear what Lukas was saying but I had trouble processing them.
"Mariz and I advised her to talk to Matt. She needed to resolve their problem, and they could only do that if they talk it out. They both needed closure. Georgie also wanted to get her past behind her. She didn't want Matt to weigh her down anymore. But most of all, she did it because of you, because she was ready to start over with you.
"You thought wrong, Atkins. She wasn't getting back with Matt, she was breaking it off, for good."
I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose. The headache threatened to come back but this time it wasn't because of the hangover anymore.
The hurt in Georgie's eyes flashed in my mind. My gut twisted at the memory. I caused it, I hurt her. And for nothing. I hurt her because of my stupidity.
A lone tear trickled down. I wasn't able to hold it all in anymore. Mercifully, Lukas looked away and I quickly wiped away the tear.
"Punch me," I said quietly.
"What?"
"Punch me," I repeated. "In the face. Give it all you've got."
I fucked up, big time. There was no other way to describe it. I was an idiot for assuming the worst case scenario without getting all the facts first. But most of all, I hated myself for assuming the worse in Georgie, ashamed that I would ever doubt her.
He sighed and said, "As much as I want to do that, it won't do your situation any good. The best thing to do would be to come crawling at her feet and beg for her forgiveness."
As usual, he was right. I need to come crawling back to her. I deserved it after how I stomped on her feelings.
I would ask for her forgiveness or die trying.
I was a proud man. I was comfortable in my own skin. I very rarely got nervous. The last time I was so nervous I felt like puking was during my middle grade play when I got the lead role of Peter Pan. The acting hadn't bothered me much but being strapped to a harness did. I had been afraid of the harness snapping and falling to my death while the parents of all my schoolmates watched.
But the Peter Pan play paled in comparison to this.
I rang the doorbell, shifting my weight form foot to foot. I was so nervous cold sweat trickled down my back. I had no idea how things would go today but I hoped it would go for the best.
Georgie would be mad at me, as she definitely should. But I was hoping she would find it in her heart to forgive me for my idiocy.
"Coming!" she called out from inside her apartment. A moment later the door cracked open, revealing a beaming Georgie. But her smile vanished as soon as she saw me.
"Georgie, I—"
She made a move to slam the door but I managed to stick my foot in before she could completely close it. She regarded me with sharp, cold eyes. The warmth of the Georgie I knew was gone, replaced with the hard, hollow shell of her former self.
"Go away, Atkins. 'I don't want to see your face anymore. 'Stay away from me.' Wasn't that what you said to me?"
I flinched at her scathing tone.
"Yes, I know, but I was wrong, you see? I thought wrong. That Wednesday afternoon when I asked you to go out for coffee, I knew you lied to me when you said you were going out with Mariz. So I followed you to a cafe where you met with Matt. I admit at first I assumed the worst and thought you got back with him. I'm so sorry I didn't mean all of those words."
She scoffed, eying me with disgust. "You didn't mean all of it? Too late for your sorry, Atkins. And you didn't even try to talk to me before you assumed the worst? Is that really how you think of me? It's too late, the damaged has been done."
Shame and guilt consumed me. I shook my head, refusing to believe her words.
"No, it's not too late yet. We can still fix this. I can still fix this."
"I'm tired," she whispered so quietly I wouldn't have heard it if I weren't standing so close to her. "I'm tired of being let down over and over again. You hurt me too much. I don't want to do this anymore." There was resignation in her voice and something in her eyes gave out, like a dying candle flame.
"Please don't say that," I begged without hesitation. "I'll fix this and make everything better."
She only shook her head, too resigned to argue anymore.
"I love you," I said in a tumble of words, confessing how I felt for her. It felt truer now that I've said it out loud.
But her eyes remained hard. "Goodbye, Atkins." There was a finality in her voice, and the door closed. I heard the lock click.
I stupidly stood there, mouth slightly parted.
I failed her. I failed us.
When I came here I expected her to be mad at me, to maybe pound me in the chest and curse me out for being a moron. I would've gladly let her do those things.<
br />
But I didn't expect her to be so cold. She was giving up and I was powerless to stop it. She was right on one thing, I let her down, and I wanted to make it up to her. But how could I do that if she felt nothing for me, just indifference?
I could handle the anger but not the resignation in her eyes. It hurt to see her let go.
I trudged down West 43rd Street, my shoulders hunched in defeat. My body felt heavy and it was difficult to keep walking, the weight of my heavy heart was slowing me down. Still, I walked because that was the only thing I could do. I was numbed with pain, heartbreak and a deep loathing for myself for everything that was fucked up.
The surroundings blurred around me, the noise muted. My gaze was trained down, watching my feet as I walked along. I made a right turn and arrived at 7th Avenue. The brightness of the giant screens on Times Square caught my eyes. People milled around, the screens flashed various commercials, the traffic light shone red, the air smelled like hotdogs just like that afternoon when Georgie first took me here. It seemed a lifetime ago.
The place was full of life, a living proof of man's greatest achievement, an icon of progress. It reminded me that life never stopped for anyone. The world doesn't pause for you to catch up, no matter if your own world was crumbling.
I never knew when I started falling for her. I never even understood my feelings for her until I lost her, or at least I thought I lost her. But now that notion seemed realer than ever. She was giving up, letting go, and I couldn't let that happen.
She said this place made her feel alive, that this place was beautiful. She made me feel alive. She promised I'd never lose her. But I did.
We never knew exactly when we fall in love with a person, we only wake up one day and realize that we can't live without them anymore. I could only guess but I think I fell in love with her in this place, on that day she made me see, taste, hear and feel the world through her senses.
An idea took root in my mind, suddenly it was as plain as day what I had to do. But I couldn't do it alone, I needed my friends' help.
Asking help from my friends was easy, except for Mariz who basically hated my guts for breaking her friend's heart. I had to explain everything to her and beg for her to trust me on this. Mariz was a vital part to my plans, if she'd said no, then it would be all over even before it started. I had no qualms of swallowing my pride for Georgie. I would crawl on the ground like a wounded dog if that meant her forgiveness.
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