“Don’t beat yourself up, Ian. I’d be no different than you if the roles were reversed. Now, let me see if I can get Richard so we can get that hand looked at.”
Two and a half hours later, I’m back in my car on the way to my penthouse. My hand is broken, not a severe break—but it hurts like a bitch, nonetheless. My friend Richard wrapped it, splinted two fingers, and put it in a removable brace because I refused to have a permanent cast. I also refused to let Jackson stick around any longer. He needed to be with Becca, not me.
Walking in, I head straight to the bar and pour a heavy scotch. I opted out of the pain meds, so I down half of it then top it off again then head out to the balcony. Sitting under the starry sky with its sliver of a moon, I focus on the burn spreading around my empty stomach. I should be hungry, but I’m not. I should be tired, but I’m not. I should be a lot of things that I’m not. One in particular. I should be relieved that I know what happened today, why it happened and that there is an explanation. That this can be fixed, that Charlotte and I can go back to what we were.
But that’s not how I feel…I’m not relieved at all. I’m not overjoyed. I’m not ready to wrap her in my arms and tell her it was all a big mistake… No, I’m none of that. Because I’m too disgusted. I am fucking disgusted that the woman I love beyond goddamn comprehension, beyond anything I ever thought could exist, took that love and threw it in my face like it was nothing but a bloody joke. Like it was some kind of adolescent affair where you just fuck with each other’s emotions to create unnecessary drama because you’re too stupid and immature to do otherwise.
She doesn’t care that I actually thought, at one point, she had been abducted, and who knows what from there—potentially even dead. Those thoughts damn near killed me. Then finding out Gabriel was somehow involved tore at my soul in a totally different way, killing me another way. Charlotte never considered how scared I would be, how out of my mind I would be with worry. No, she had already made up her own mind and didn’t give a fuck.
Right now, at this very moment, she is convinced that I am unfaithful to her. I understand she has issues because of her parents, and I know those issues run deep, but she seriously believes it’s possible for me to even want to cheat on her. So much so, she literally left me…just up and fucking left without saying a word.
Standing up abruptly because I can’t sit still, a sick feeling comes over me. The sense of betrayal lacerates through me as the sickness turns to pain. Suddenly, a violent crashing sound ricochets around the concrete walls, blasting through my ears and racing through every nerve in my body as the glass I was holding shatters into a million pieces. Standing there, teeth clenched as the heated fury swallows me whole, I grab my phone and start typing.
Me: Hello Erika. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you please pass this message along to Charlotte.
* * *
The woman you saw me with today was my cousin, Phoebe. Not my mistress, not my girlfriend, not my latest hookup. My fucking cousin, whose beloved dog had just been euthanized. Your lack of faith in my integrity and feelings for you have not gone unnoticed. I’ll have your things packed and moved back to your condo within 24 hours.
Send.
Twenty-Seven
Charlotte
I barely slept a wink. My chest is constricted, too tight to take a normal breath, and my sinuses are completely shut from crying. Lying here, looking out the window as dawn breaks through the darkness, I wonder what my next move should be.
Buying a plane ticket to Europe isn’t an option…yet. I need to properly schedule time off at work first. A few days away unexpectedly is doable, but not a trip overseas. No. I’m going to stay here at my uncle’s condo in Naples for another day or so, hopefully gain some strength—and courage—before heading back to Miami to set things up properly at work. After that, I will take off to France and visit Uncle James. That may be a cowardly move, but right now I don’t care. A complete change of scenery is what’s best for me because I certainly can’t stay like this, dying from a pain that words cannot describe. Drawing my attention to it creates another lump in my throat as I roll over and curl into myself, searching for some kind of comfort.
I still can’t believe all that has happened, that I was on the verge of reliving my mother’s tragic life. The naive woman, head over heels in love with the gorgeous, successful businessman that clouds your vision and makes you believe in fairy tales when there could be nothing further from the truth. My God…how could I let myself fall this far? Another sob breaks free as I see Ian vividly in my mind and remember the deep love that I thought we both shared, the connection, the passion, two souls reunited…
…I can’t do this. My heart is pounding, too hard.
My head, the pain is making me dizzy…
…I’m going to be sick again.
Jumping out of bed, I run to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing at the door, holding onto the frame for balance after another round of dry-heaving. I need to force myself to drink water…or something. What I really need is food, but I don’t have the strength to prepare anything right now. I’m so weak from lack of sleep and nutrients, my head is spinning.
Suddenly, there is an image of my mother after she found out about my father’s death…and his infidelity. My mother—that beautiful, vibrant, kind, and loving woman that would walk into a room and brighten it like a brilliant ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, reduced to an empty shell that just existed until the last remnant of a spark was finally extinguished.
I feel my hand sliding down the doorframe as my legs give out, forcing me to sit right where I am, unable to carry the weight any longer. I despise this; I despise the weakness that has taken over every cell in my body. I don’t have the strength to even sit, as my body involuntarily gives in and rolls to the floor.
After lying there for a few minutes while the blood equalizes throughout my body, Sibel finally makes an appearance as she claws her way through the crowd of zombies that reside in this dark place I’ve become lost in. Through the thick fog I can hear her strong—albeit confused—voice say, “Ahhhhh…why the fuck are we here?”
If I had the strength, I would laugh because this is definitely not Sibel’s kind of scene. She doesn’t do weakness on this end of the spectrum. She’s more comfortable losing control in the form of telling someone to piss off while dumping a perfectly good drink over their head. Her timing is impeccable, though, because at that moment, I decide to relinquish myself over to her command—a task she is more than happy to perform as she enthusiastically walks over and gives me a proverbial kick in the ass, igniting a welcome jolt of energy.
Propping up on my elbows, I let the blood slowly flow toward my head before sitting up to take a much-needed deep breath. I do it again and again, my back against the wall for support. With a quiet thud, my head falls back as my eyes close and I patiently wait for Sibel to clean house and work her magic. I wish she had appeared sooner, like when I saw Ian caressing another woman’s face. She would have gladly walked over and bashed their heads together, then walked away with a straight spine and a full sense of satisfaction. Me? No…I run and hide on the other side of the state to live in misery with the zombies and demons from my past.
After several minutes of controlled breathing and intense reprimanding from my alter-ego, I’m ready to go downstairs and find some kind of sustenance. I pray there is something palatable enough to energize me for a shower and a trip to the nearest restaurant for a more substantial meal and human interaction.
Thankfully, I don’t have to go far. This area is filled with quaint little bistros and coffee shops. After ordering a man-sized meal, I sit back to enjoy my full stomach and lack of wanting to vomit. A wonderful breeze blows in off the water and I relax a bit more in the fresh air. Just then, my phone pings, startling me. I’ve had it off since I left Miami and must have become accustomed to the silence. Looking down, I see it’s from Erika.
Erika: He
y. Assuming your phone is back on. I called the condo and got no answer. Can you talk?
Hmmm…there is a strange tone to that text, and Sibel has a vision of Erika being held at gunpoint and forced to contact me. Not wanting to continue an unnecessary back and forth, I dial her number, and, as usual, she picks up halfway through the first ring.
“Hey. How are you doing?” she asks, sounding somber and way out of her norm.
“Okay. Finally found the strength to get out of bed and find some decent food. What’s going on? You sound weird.”
I hear her take a deep breath. “Well, it looks like Ian did the math, with some help from Jackson, and he knows why you left.” The thought of those cards being laid on the table seems surreal as I sit back in my chair. A sense of foreboding comes over me while I think of ways to defend my position.
“Yeah? Doesn’t matter. It would have all come out eventually.”
“Except for one problem…”
My stomach does a major flip, and there it is—the sensation of falling and there is nothing to catch me.
“…This is the text I got from Ian…Hello Erika. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you please pass this message along to Charlotte. The woman you saw me with today was my cousin, Phoebe. Not my mistress, not my girlfriend, not my latest hookup. My fucking cousin, whose beloved dog had just been euthanized. Your faith in my integrity and feelings for you have not gone unnoticed. I’ll have your things packed and moved back to your condo within 24 hours.”
There is a strange and sudden silence that encompasses everything and the odd sensation of standing outside my body witnessing this whole thing, like it isn’t really happening to me. As if it’s a dream. But I know the truth…It is happening to me. His cousin? My God, what have I done?
Erika breaks the heavy silence. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to absorb what you said.” I pause as a new kind of pain travels through me. “It feels like I’ve been hit in the head with a bat. I’ve got an instant headache and I’m nauseous again. Which isn’t good because all I’ve done is throw-up and dry-heave since I’ve been here!” My voice rises and has a ring of panic to it as I finish with, “Jesus, what have I done?” I lean forward to put my head on the table in a sad attempt at steadying its spinning.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. I wish I was there with you. I can leave now if you want me to come over.” She sounds so concerned, it’s making me want to cry.
Giving myself a few seconds so the dam doesn’t break, I answer, “No. It’s fine, Erika. I promise. I just…I don’t know, I’m kind of in shock right now…I think. I know what I saw, and I know what it looked like, and I certainly know how it made me feel, especially after Gabriel insinuated that he knew something about Ian not being faithful to me. But to have Ian say it was something innocent and then break up with me…I…I honestly don’t know what to think right now.”
“I get it. I felt a little like that when I read the text. I mean, I know you and I know why you did what you did, and I can totally see why you would have freaked. But if what Ian says is true…I can see why he’s upset as well.” Pausing, she finishes with, “This is some serious talk-show shit right here!”
Leave it to Erika to try to lighten up the situation. I may have actually laughed, but I don’t think it made any sound.
Sitting up straight, I put my head back and close my eyes, hoping the bright sunlight penetrating my skin will give me some kind of strength. Finally bringing my head down, I speak my thoughts. “I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t know what’s worse, Ian cheating on me or Ian breaking up with me because I thought he was cheating on me. I don’t know what do, and I’m sitting outside at some restaurant. I want to get back to the condo and digest all this. Can I call you later?”
“Of course, don’t worry about it. But if you don’t, I’ll call you.” She pauses, then says, “It’s going to be okay, honey. It will all work out…okay?”
“I know. Thank you. I love you.”
“More.”
I don’t remember much of the walk back to the condo, but once inside, I head straight for the couch to lie down. I am so completely exhausted, within seconds my eyes shut and don’t open again until it’s almost dark outside.
Disoriented from deep sleep and terrible stress dreams, I sit up to let my head clear and give myself a few minutes to ponder this afternoon’s turn of events. Trying to think past the stabbing pain in my chest isn’t easy. Trying to take a normal-sized breath is just as hard. I can’t believe the emotional hell I’ve been in since that jerk, Gabriel, showed up at my office… Was that yesterday? Oh my God. It’s like I’ve been in this black hole for an entire week. I’m so drained and miserable…and scared.
I should have confronted Ian. That would have been the normal thing to do. Even if I had flipped out on him, it could have been settled right then and there. But instead, I was thoroughly convinced that he was cheating on me, and the finality of it completely shattered me inside. I’ve known pain—terrible, excruciating emotional pain—but it was nothing like what I felt when I saw Ian with another woman. Obviously, I fooled myself into thinking I could put aside my issues and live happily ever after. I may have buried them for several months, but they were there, lurking in the corner, waiting for the opportunity to ruin my happily ever after…and they always will be.
The sound of defeat escapes as I let out a weak sigh and find the strength to stand. I wait a few seconds for the dizziness to clear, but the nausea is more persistent. Walking over to the mirror, I’m not surprised to that find my reflection is a physical reminder of the mistake I made. Yet, the longer I stare at myself, the more I start to see my father. Although I resemble both my parents, at this moment I see him—his eyes and his wide mouth, his jawline. For the first time in a long time, I have a clear vision of him and I allow myself to see him the way he was…when we loved him, when we trusted him.
A sudden burst of pain lances through my chest and breaks the lock that held my true feelings at bay for more than a decade.
“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” I scream at the man that destroyed my storybook life…destroyed my beautiful mother. “Why?” I continue as the sobs break free. “Why weren’t we enough for you? Do you even know what you left behind? Do you know what you did to your wife…my mother? DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME?”
Without thinking, my hand balls into a tight fist and shatters the mirror along with the image of the man staring back at me. My breathing is heavy as the tears wash down my face. This time, they aren’t the tears of my broken heart. They aren’t tears of pity for my perfect little family… No, this time they are tears of anger. Anger that is so hot and vicious, I feel it take a small piece of my sanity and lock it away in the crypt where the rest of my family’s skeletons are buried.
The word hate flashes through my mind as I think about what I’ve done and why I did it. Do I hate myself? Do I hate my father?
A warm wetness lands on my foot—blood is dripping from my hand and splattering onto the white floor, its stark contrast harsh and surreal. My head falls back weakly, and I laugh, the sad sound of broken emotions. “You ruined me, Dad,” I whisper. “You took my ability to trust. You took it with you, and I’ll never get it back.”
Several minutes later I find myself sitting on the floor, the blood thick and sticky as it dries next to me. Looking down at the cut on my hand that is finally starting to sting, I snap out of it, only to realize I decided there is a part of me that hates my father and myself for taking a wrecking ball to the once in a lifetime relationship I had with the man I love.
“Beyond perfect…” I moan as I slowly get up to go to the bathroom and bandage up my hand. Hopefully it doesn’t need stitches, because I’m not going to the hospital. No…I’m getting the hell out of here before I go completely insane. I need to be busy, accomplishing something and not sitting here making myself sick and having outbursts with my dead father.
After a quick cleanup, I�
�m on the road, and fortunately it’s traffic free—albeit pitch black and a little sketchy. The music keeps me company but doesn’t calm my nerves as I finalize my decision. Ian is better off without me. This happened for a reason…because he deserves more than what I am capable of offering. In the back of my mind, I’ve always known that to be true. Yet, I fooled myself into thinking otherwise. Clearly, Ian knows it’s for the best, as well. A huge lump forms in my throat as I think about the love I have for him…if you love someone, set them free. That never made sense to me, but it does now.
The last hour flies by, thank God, because by the time I pull into the parking garage of my condo, I’m completely wiped out again. I’ve barely got the strength to get to the elevator and up to my condo.
The brutal fatigue gets swallowed by a rush of adrenaline when I walk through the front door to find suitcases and several plastic totes that I assume are filled with my belongings. Jesus Christ…how did this happen? I suddenly feel sick and run to the bathroom.
After rinsing my mouth and splashing cold water on my face, I walk back out to the living room, determined to be strong. Standing there, looking at everything, I wonder what was going through Ian’s mind when he packed up all my stuff. Does he hate me now? Can he really turn off his feelings like that? “It doesn’t matter, Charlotte. What’s done is done,” I say, right as the front door opens and Ian walks in, sucking all the air from the room.
God help me…those eyes. Blazing like a mad Viking set on taking what he wants and leaving nothing but ash in his wake. “What are you doing here, Charlotte? It was my understanding you weren’t coming back for days. Had I known you changed your mind, I would have had this task completed much sooner.” His voice sounds so different, so cold and menacing. I need to say something, but what? The truth is, I want to hold him, to go back in time and make sure nothing bad ever happens between us. But I can’t.
The Essence of Fate Page 28
