Arsen: a broken love story - Asher Mia - Страница 48
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Yep, this is much better.
As I scan the place, I’m overcome by a desire to twirl. I want to let my body move freely in any direction it wants to take me. Closing my eyes, I tip my head back, and twirl with my arms outstretched, feeling free, unburdened. Faster and faster I’m blindly spinning as tears soak my cheeks. Unhinged by grief, I laugh so hard that it makes my stomach hurt. Or am I sobbing? Maybe a little bit of both.
“Cathy, stop that right now. You’re going to make yourself sick,” I hear Ben say. His voice ringing with sadness. Why? Isn’t he supposed to be perfect fucking Ben? Never sad and always happy. Always ready to catch me when I fall.
Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben.
The space between us grows each day. Can we stop it? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
“Go away, Ben. Or join me! But don’t tell me what to do,” I manage to say between laughs. “This is so much fun!” Really. He should give it a try.
“Don’t make me force you to stop.”
Well, that doesn’t work for me. With my eyes closed, I continue to twirl and ignore his warning. “What are you going to do, huh? Stop me with your big and strong hands?” I taunt him because I really don’t care, “Maybe—”
I’m cut short when I feel his very strong hands on my forearms, stopping me like he said he would. “Stop it! Stop it!” He yells at me. “Open your eyes, Cathy! Look at yourself. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue to watch my wife driving herself to an early grave. You’re killing yourself, Cathy! Open your fucking eyes and look at me!” Swallowing hard, Ben shakes me as the choked words leave his mouth. “Look at me, Cathy. Look at me. Please.”
And I do.
His pleading brown eyes are wet with unshed tears. “Well, what do you want? I’m looking at you now. Tell me what do you want from me, Ben?”
His grip on my arms grows tighter. I’m sure I’ll have bruises by tonight. The pain feels good, though. It makes me feel alive.
I hear him groan as he lets go of my arms and pulls me close to his body. He wraps his tense arms around me in a constricted embrace. It’s a desperate call for help, and one I don’t care for. I don’t return the hug. My lifeless hands remain on my sides as Ben tips my chin up, making me look at him.
Clenching his jaw tautly, Ben stares at me for a moment before speaking. “I want you to stop hurting yourself. You’re not eating, you haven’t showered in days, and all you do when you’re not sleeping is clean this attic. There’s nothing else left here to throw away, so please, Cathy…please. Come downstairs with me. Let me bathe you…feed you…whatever you want, baby. Just let me back in. I can’t take seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it.”
“Let me be. It will pass…” I whisper.
“How, Cathy? You won’t speak to anyone. You won’t return Amy’s phone calls, not even your dad’s. Hell, you won’t even speak to me. It’s like you’re here in my arms, but you really aren’t. The real Cathy has already checked out and I’m left only with the shell of my wife. You need help, babe, and it’s okay to ask for it. I’m here.”
“I don’t need saving.”
“Yes, you do. And I wish I could save you, Cathy. Take the pain away; erase it from your body. I wish I could hurt for you, but I can’t. You have to save yourself. All I can do is love you. Through it all, just love you. But you need to let me back in.”
“Are you even hurting, Ben? Do you even realize what happened? I fucking lost a fourth baby, Ben. A fourth beautiful baby. What kind of woman am I that I cannot even carry full-term? My body is poisoned. It kills them, Ben.”
My voice is rising, but I don’t care. I can’t stand Ben’s poise, his perfection…the way he seems to always look at the fucking bright side of things. Life is a fucking joke. And he needs to realize that.
“You keep saying that we will be okay. That we’ll get through this shit.” Lifting my arms, I push him away until we’re standing in front of each other not touching, a gulf between us. “That there are other options. Well, dear Ben, I’m fucking done with it all. I’m fucking done. I don’t want to try anymore. I don’t want to look at another baby item in this house. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about us having a baby, about the different options available to us. I don’t want to fucking hear it coming from your mouth. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done! Do you understand me? I don’t want it anymore!”
My body is shaking from anger.
Or is it despair?
“It hurts, Ben. Do you understand? No, you can’t understand it! Why am I even asking you? Asking Ben who has answers for everything. You want to know my answer? I’m not woman enough, Ben!” I begin to angrily hit myself, my hands attacking my empty womb as I sob irrational words. I want to feel as much physical pain as possible. “I’m a joke. And that’s the sad truth. So, please, please, please! Stop it! Just fucking stop. Let me grieve however I want. I need to…”
“Babe, let me try—”
“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP TREATING ME AS IF I AM A FUCKING PORCELAIN DOLL! I’M BROKEN, DO YOU HEAR ME! I. AM. BROKEN.”
He reaches out for me with an entreating hand, but I don’t let him. Shaking my head, I turn on my feet and flee the attic as fast as my feet will allow me. I turn my back on him and maybe on our marriage, but when I said to him that I was done. I meant it.
I meant every single word.
And he’s right. Ben is right.
I’ve checked out.
A month later.
A: Catherine, I need to see you.
C: Why? I thought you were done with me.
A: I went into the office to see my father. I ran into Amy. She told me what happened…
C: So? It’s in the past.
A: I want to be there for you…
C: What a joke. And no. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.
A: Dimples, please. I know you must be hurting. Before shit went down between us, before I got fucking drunk and ruined everything, we were friends. I want to be there for you.
A: Answer me please.
A: Are you there?
A: Don’t shut me out of your life, Cathy.
C: Fine. But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to know.
Later that morning, I call Ben at his office to let him know that I’m going into town to meet Amy for drinks. At first he’s taken aback and surprised. I can’t say that I blame him. I haven’t spoken to anyone in close to two months. But when the black lie rolls off my tongue, I realize that I would like to see her, to speak to her again. I’ve missed her. But before today, I wasn’t ready to face anyone. I need to heal at my own speed, under my own terms.
My heart is broken, my dreams and hopes shattered alongside it. Even though the healing process has begun, and I know I will heal eventually, I will never be the same. I will never be the Cathy I used to be.
She’s gone.
And in her stead, there’s me.
The leftover.
The burnt ruins.
I’m a woman with so many inner scars that Dorian Gray’s twisted reflection could be mine. But they are my scars. My hellish reminders. They make me who I am, who I’m left to live life with. And I would never change that.
“Would you like me to come with you?” Ben asks.
“No. It’s okay. I need a girl’s night out. I think it would be good for me.” I wonder why lying comes so naturally to me now. Have I always lied to myself? Maybe.
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