by Ana Simons
But she pushes me back gently, teasing me with a mirthful smile. “Besides, we love those films because we’re all secretly in love with at least one of the Hemsworth brothers and there’s nothing we can do about it, except surrender ourselves to those amazing eyes, charming smiles and out-of-this-world abs. And the sooner you learn to accept that, the better—you’ll agonise a lot less.”
“Ah-ah. Very funny.” No, I’m not laughing and I have no idea who those guys are either. That’s not the sort of competition we particularly appreciate.
She chuckles, a stifled compromised chuckle.
The blood begins to pound wildly in my veins when I fix my eyes on her mouth again, and hold her a little tighter, pressing her against my hard body. I take in her breath as I let my tongue trace her bottom lip, and her scent as I travel down her neck and her collar. They’re already embedded in my brain and I want them there for the rest of my life.
I feel her body arching towards mine and then, without warning, she grips my hair and crushes her lips to mine with intense urgency. It’s hot as hell and I kiss her back, hard, my tongue entering her mouth to entwine with hers, to claim her as mine.
Her fingers move to my shirt, tug at the bottom of it and in a swift movement she yanks it up. She splays her hands across my chest, caresses it, and rests her lips on it. My heart kicks hard in my chest, and my pulse thrums frantically in my ears as my body gives in to each stroke of her tongue. It’s maddening, this desperate, unyielding need.
And I take her mouth again in a hungry kiss, waves of lust stirring inside me in a wild fever as she moans softly into my mouth, our breaths so desperate that the world could cease to be, it wouldn’t matter. This fierce craving has already overtaken us completely.
I get up and envelope her in my arms. My fingers waltz up and down her back, then slide down her body to tug at the hem of her dress and find their way underneath to caress her thighs.
“You don’t look very comfortable in this dress…” I whisper, my voice thick with lust.
But her eyes leap open. “What? I look fat in it?”
I can’t contain the chuckle. “No. I want you out of it!”
“Ah! Speaking of which... where’s my backpack? I got you something at the airport.”
“Look at me. Do I look like I want to receive a present right now?”
She undrapes her arms from around my neck and gives me a naughty wink before she begins to scan the room. “Oh, this one, you do!”
“Unless it’s something I’ll want to tear off with my teeth, no, I don’t!”
Her smile is full of malice. “Hey, all good things come to those who wait!”
*
“Oh, shit! We left it in the car. Behind the driver’s seat. I have to go to the car park,” she concludes after a couple of minutes of furious search.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Brian, my computer is there, with my whole life, with important stuff from work! That’s easy bait for burglars. Do you want someone to smash a window and rob your car? I don’t think so.”
She’s right. “Okay, I’ll go. Stay here.”
“Oh, come on, you’re half-naked. It only takes a minute, you can look at me through the balcony window,” she says as she takes the car key from the console table near the front door.
One minute later she’s giving me the okay sign, closing back the car door and heading back inside.
All good.
While she’s on her way up, I go to the bathroom to quickly wash my face and brush my teeth. And spray on a bit of her favourite cologne. That should give her enough time to get whatever she’s got there for me out of the bag and prepare her little surprise. I’m kind of excited now. What could it possibly be?
*
“Love? Where are you?”
It’s been what? More than ten minutes, surely?
As no answer comes from the living-room, I leave our bed and check what’s taking her so long. Maybe it’s that long prep thing that requires time and I must get used to. Christ, the anticipation is killing me.
“Love?” I keep calling as I pace the corridor.
She doesn’t respond, but I can hear her movements.
When I finally find her, I can barely believe my eyes. The image I see knocks me off balance, it’s like a jolt throwing me back to a dark place I didn’t see myself entering again.
Looking vacantly through the window and with tears streaming down her face, her fingers tremble as she fidgets with the scarf wrapped around her neck.
Still unable to react, I watch her in silence for a few beats and then let my eyes shift to the side. Her backpack is already draped on the trolley suitcase handle next to the doorway. I’m utterly confused.
This can’t be happening. She’s leaving?
“Sweetheart, please, what is this?”
30 No, you don’t…
“I hate you!”
“And you’ve figured that out when? In the lift, between the second and third floors? Have you gone mad?” I ask her as I nervously unwind her scarf and throw it on the sofa.
Olivia tugs it back. “Damn you, Brian! How could you have done this to me?”
“Love, talk to me. What happened? Why are you crying? Where do you think you’re going?”
She chokes on a sob. “I’m so done with all this. I’m so stupid, how could I have ever believed that this time it would be different?” A hand covers her mouth in an attempt to smother the hurt inside.
I grab her wrists and pull them to my chest, our foreheads touching, our breaths mixing together in a wild rush. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”
She tries to free herself. “You’re hurting me!”
I let her go immediately and hold her head between my hands. “Olivia. Please. Don’t do it again, don’t leave me hanging.”
She heads towards the door, but I block her, a feeling of absolute anguish taking hold of me. “No, you go nowhere! You’re going to talk to me and tell me exactly why we were having such a great time just a little while ago and now… What have I done to cause all this, what did I do?”
She studies me for a moment, a sheen of tears sparkling in her eyes. “Again, who’s a woman named Josephine?”
Oh, fuck no...
My head falls back against the door and I take a deep breath to let it sink in and carefully consider my words.
Looking deeply into the abyss of my growing despair, I let my eyelids flutter shut. There’s a tumult of regret and pain coursing through me right now and I don’t quite know how to deal with it. The thought of losing her is just too disturbing, it almost suffocates me, my lungs are burning and I can’t breathe.
I take her hand, linking our fingers, my eyes never leaving hers. “Not what you might be thinking, Olivia.”
“Brian, do you know how many times I’ve heard that stupid line before?” There’s hurt mixed with profound disappointment in her eyes. “How can you be fooling the two of us and not feel bad about it? You’re all the same, aren’t you?”
“No, we’re not all the same! And you should leave the past where it belongs—in the past. And I’m not that ex-boyfriend of yours and I’m certainly not playing games with anyone. The only mistake I’ve made here was one, not telling you that she was someone I... I used to hang out and have a few drinks with.” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to raise her eyes to mine. “Before we met again. I freaked out, I don’t know, but I regretted it immediately. I’m sorry.”
“A few drinks? You’ve got such a nerve!” Shaking her head, she gives me scornful gaze. “You’ve been seeing her for months now, since my granddad’s funeral. You met her on that flight to New York.” She hesitates a moment and then blurts out, “It’s disgusting. I really hate you!”
I hold her hand. “No, you don’t.”
She brushes mine off. “Let me go now.”
“Please. You’re not being reasonable.”
A sad, hollow laugh escapes her lips. “Well, if you run to the car park maybe
you can still catch her. And maybe she’s more understanding and reasonable than I am and doesn’t mind taking you back. Because I don’t know if I can...”
“Wait, she was here?”
“She almost ran me over downstairs, yelling like a crazy lunatic, wanting to know if I’m the bitch her man has been shagging!” Olivia presses her hand to her mouth, trying to stop herself from crying. “And you know what else she said? That I could have you, but shouldn’t set my hopes too high, because I’m just your new toy and you’ll get tired of me really soon. God, I almost felt the ground shake beneath my feet.” Olivia swipes tears from her cheeks with the palm of her trembling hand. “You’ve been cheating on her? And I’m the other one? God, imagine that!”
“Liv, listen to me.” I grab her by the arm, but she struggles. “Look at me, goddammit,” I raise my voice and pin her under my gaze. “Did you see me with anyone else at Jimmy’s wedding? Who spent that night with me? Who did I run after one week later? Who do I take home to be with my family? Who am I making plans to spend Christmas with? Who do you think is on my mind every waking minute of the day? Who has made me feel whole again? Who do you think I’d choose over everything in life? The answer is always the same. You! I’d choose you in a heartbeat, and it hurts too that you don’t trust me, that you don’t believe me when I tell you that I have absolutely nothing with that woman. It’s not my fault she’s having some problems accepting that!”
“Maybe because you broke her heart very badly before.”
“I never promised her anything I couldn’t give her.”
“Sure. It’s just biologically ingrained in you, to bonk around, but never take responsibility, right? After all, you’re a guy and we should understand it’s in your nature.” Her words are tinged with forced irony.
“No, not every guy is like that. And you’re the only woman I want to be with.”
“Damn you, Brian! Even if she’s crazy or hallucinating, that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. You told me she was someone from work! Why would you say that?”
“I did, and that was stupid. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, just let me go now.”
“Olivia. Please.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t be with you right now.”
“Hold on just a second, I’ll be right back.”
I rush back inside, resolutely put on my shirt and get my jacket. Then I return to the doorway, to find her wiping her teary, bloodshot eyes, looking so frightened and vulnerable. I grab the car key and come closer, to rest my eyes on her and stroke her face. One last time.
“It’s too late for you to be out there, so please don’t go. Stay here, think about what I’ve just told you and do whatever you feel is the right thing in the morning. I’ll go. I’ll be at my parents’ if you need me.”
I leave and the moment I cross the threshold and the door closes behind me, it feels like someone has ripped my heart straight out of my chest and tore it to shreds. I could scream and cry at the hurt, which is so overwhelming, much greater and painful than anything I’ve ever felt before. It burns immensely and I almost hate her for hurting me this much. Or maybe I hate myself for loving her this way. I don’t know.
31 The hurt inside
Three weeks later…
“Oh boy, you’re so getting on my nerves,” my sister yells over the phone, quite loudly. “Listen to me, you either fight for her or you stop drowning your sorrows in loneliness! And stop keeping us all out! The kids miss you. Even I miss you. And mum needs you now and you well know Dad shouldn’t be watching this. So do something about it, for crying out loud!”
“This is really a bad time. Can I call you later and–”
“You shut up now! You’ve been rejecting all my calls for days, so now you shut up and listen: stop bottling up, holding it in like it doesn’t hurt! Throwing yourself into work and shutting yourself in at home is not going to make things better. So tomorrow, we’re having our Sunday family brunch and you’re so not going to stay in bed again! With the hope you can hide there for a decade wondering alone how the eff you’re going to get over this! Are we clear?”
“Sue, I’m in the middle of Holland Park. Can’t we discuss this later?”
“If you don’t move your fine ass and show up tomorrow, I’ll go there and drag you myself. Listen to me! I’m a bundle of nerves already and my patience is wearing very thin, so you don’t want to mess with me!” she blurts out and then hangs up. Just like that.
Two seconds later it rings again.
“And it’s her birthday today. Call her, you stubborn arse.”
“You know I can’t. And, besides, why would I want to hear it again, that she hates me, huh?”
“Well, if she doesn’t love you, who cares if she says she hates you? Then you’d have another good reason to stop giving a damn! Now go. See you tomorrow.”
After pulling the hood over my head and tucking the earbuds back in my ears, I close my eyes and take a long deep breath and hold it for a while. My throat feels tight as the sharp, cold morning air enters my body and swirls around in the empty pit I have in my chest. My lungs burn. Almost as much as the ringing jolt of pain I feel in my heart every time I ask myself if I’m worth anything at all. If I didn’t make her happy, why would she miss what we had? The laughs, the comfort, the nearness, the plans we made, the promises we said we would keep. My hands running through her hair, brushing her lips, skimming over her body...
Trying to chase away the brutal truth—hurt hasn’t worn away and it sucks terribly—I turn up the music loud, loud enough to smother my thoughts and the memories, and take a few long steps.
The initial slow, rhythmic pace easily shifts into quicker strides and I start running, faster and faster, as fast as my heart can bear, faster than I ever imagined I could. My heart threatens to burst out of my chest and my legs burn, but the more they burn, the more I run, ignoring the pain, pushing through it. Until it all stops hurting.
*
On my way home, I stare at the empty new-text box, wondering what to write.
‘I hope you have a wonderful day. Happy Birthday’?
‘Thinking of you on your birthday and wishing you a beautiful day’?
‘Wishing you a day that is as special as you are’?
Yes, that last one was just brilliant! What the fuck are you doing? You shouldn’t write anything at all. And maybe you shouldn’t even give an inch about her in the first place, forget that!
An incoming call from Jake comes in the middle of my dilemma, solving it immediately. I quickly conclude I’d better give up on the idea, it was stupid anyway, and swipe my finger across the screen.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Mate! How’re you doing?”
“Okay. You?”
“Listen, tonight they’re opening this new club in Soho and I was thinking that–”
“No, thanks. Staying home, I’ve got work to do.”
“Don’t talk rubbish and focus. Listen to me: we’re hitting that club tonight, we’ll have a couple of drinks to loosen up and then, you’ll see, with all those strobe lights flashing they will all soon look like Megan Fox and we–”
“No.” No. I’m not in the mood for random hook-ups, cheap orgasms and regrettable sex. Maybe some other day. But not today.
He snorts. “Hi there. My name is Brian Anderson and I haven’t bonked for over a month now,” he says in a ridiculously stupid voice and then laughs. “Who’s going to give you a chip for that accomplishment, you moron? Mate, you urgently need to get sloshed and shag the first woman that smiles at you. Once you’re back in the game, you’ll get over it quickly. Everything will be all right again and order shall be restored!
And you’re a wanker and it’d be nice if you could go more than fifteen seconds without thoroughly pissing me off!
“Got to go, Jake. See you on Monday.”
“Hey! I can send you a couple of links with some fine porn too.”
Oh, sod o
ff…
“Bye, Jake.”
*
“What’s wrong with you, people?” I ask Linda, later in the evening, as I take a flower vase from a high shelf of the cupboard. “Suddenly everyone wants to drag me out of my house. I’m fine!”
No, I am not. Jimmie called me three or four times this afternoon and I chose not to answer. And he is supposedly my best friend. Plus, I caught a rerun of Notting Hill on TV. Olivia fancies it, so I kept watching, feeling a bit emotional sometimes, giving a few hearty laughs too, rooting for an ending I already knew, thinking that it’d indeed be nice to have someone to share a garden bench with. And that line, ‘I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her’? That was nice and almost got me teary-eyed and–
Oh, sod! If I don’t manage to knock some sense into my head and shift into properly operational mode again, I’m so bloody screwed!
That’s why I called Jimmy back and ended up accepting his invitation to come over for dinner. Linda is showing their wedding film around, absolutely thrilled about the whole thing, and it’s a drag and I’ll hate it, but it might be better to get it over with, so we can all forget about that and move on with our lives. Help me, Lord.
“Of course you’re okay! It’s just that we haven’t seen you in weeks, and it’ll be nice to catch up a little.” Linda says while putting the flowers I brought her in the vase. “They’re lovely, thank you. Here, now be a sweetheart and put them on the table, will you? I have to check on the oven.”
“What are you up to there? Smells good. And where did Jimmy go, again?” I ask as I head to the dining-room.
“Chicken Panzanella. You’ll love it. He should be arriving any minute.”
I place the vase and study the table. One, two... Oh, shit, no! The table is set for four. For Christ’s sake, what’s this now?
With quick, furious strides I head back to the kitchen. “Linda? I’ve seen four plates; mind explaining yourself? You’re trying to hook me up with one of your girlfriends again, is that it? Without asking me first? Seriously?”
