Arsen: a broken love story - Asher Mia - Страница 49
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After some silence, he continues, “I think it would be good for you. I’m glad you’re speaking to her again. Maybe you could try giving your dad a call…”
“No. One step at a time. This is good. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I need to run some errands. I’ll leave dinner ready for you since I won’t be here by the time you get home.”
“Cathy, don’t hang up just yet. I need to say something. I’m happy you’re getting out. I really am. Maybe this means—”
“Ben. It doesn’t mean anything. All I’m doing is going to meet a friend for drinks and maybe dinner.”
Which I am…kind of.
“Okay, babe. I’m just glad. Have fun and say hello to Amy for me.”
I hang up without saying good-bye. I won’t be made to feel guilty for this. I won’t.
Besides, why should I? If I’m in ruins, I wouldn’t even know how to describe the state of our marriage.
I hate when Ben reaches for me at night.
I want to throw up every time he makes love to me.
I’ve grown to hate looking at his beautiful face and everything that makes him so perfect.
I hate the fucking joke that our marriage has become.
And I hate myself because I seem to have lost all care for everything.
Valentino Red. Bright red lips.
A body fitting dress that shows off my petite figure.
Blonde curls falling down my back.
Champagne flute in hand.
Tangy bubbles on my tongue tickling my throat.
I wait for him. Sitting on a stool next to the bar, I scan the room looking for Arsen as the loud dance music pounds in my ears. He’s running late, or maybe I’m just early. Either way, it doesn’t matter because I’m out of the house, out of my self-imposed jail.
Calm.
I know I should feel nervous, but I don’t feel one thing.
I’m just cold.
“Excuse me, I noticed that you’re alone. Would you let me buy you another drink?” a dark haired man asks. Upon close examination, I note that he’s very handsome and he looks like Ben, though he appears to be a bit older than my husband.
“Thank you but no. I’m waiting for a friend. And he should be here at any moment.” I turn in my seat, completely dismissing him.
“You don’t have to be such a cold bitch, you know.” The man leans down to whisper viciously in my ear.
“You have less than a minute to apologize to her and back the fuck off, dude.” Ah. A ferocious chill snakes down my spine as I hear his sweet, sweet voice.
Arsen.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guy mutter something to Arsen, maybe an apology, but I don’t really care. All I want, all I need at this moment, is standing in front of me. And for the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel so lost anymore. Not so cold.
I watch Arsen and the way his eyes shine like blue fire when they land on me, a burning fire that gradually melts the chronic sheet of ice covering my body. With one look, Arsen provides the warmth I didn’t know I needed until this very moment.
“Oh, Dimples.”
That’s all it takes. With those two words, I come undone. Not caring that we’re in the middle of a busy bar with loads of people watching us, I throw myself at him, bury my face in his chest, and let myself cry.
Oh, how I missed his smell.
How I missed him.
With me wrapped in the security of his arms, Arsen throws some bills on the bar and guides us to a corner booth, away from all the people watching us closely. He sits down first and then pulls me on top of his lap, never letting go of me. He begins to rock us both in a soothing motion as he tries to console me. One of his hands is on the back of my neck; my hair tightly wrapped in his fist as the other one gently caresses my back. Up and down. His touch is not sexual…it’s soothing. Arsen, a friend gone wrong, is comforting me. His are the first arms I am able to find solace in.
“I-I’m…so…soorryy.”
My words get mixed between tears.
“It’s okay beautiful. It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll talk later.”
After a while, when I’m all cried out, I begin my tale of sorrow, my trip down memory lane. Recounting how my life has been since the last day I saw him makes it feel as if a heavy weight has been lifted off my chest. It allows me to breathe painlessly again. With Arsen, I can finally grieve and not pretend that everything is all right. With Arsen, I can let my emotions take over me and not be ashamed by them.
With Arsen, I can be me.
Sniffling, I take the napkin that Arsen handed me before and wipe my eyes and nose. “I must look like a mess.”
“Nah. You look like the cutest raccoon I’ve ever seen.” I watch as he lifts his hand and slowly brings it to caress my cheek. Closing my eyes, I get lost in the sensation of his warm palm against my skin, and his light touch makes my body tingle. When I gaze at him again, his eyes are hooded with want, and he watches me while his thumb gently strokes my skin. I notice his breathing begins to accelerate as we continue eyeing each other. The loud background music has changed to hip-hop, but it’s the silence between us that makes me instantly aware of his hands on my body.
Sluggishly, I get off his lap and move to sit next to him. The distance between us provides me with a chance to clear my mind and slow down the crazy beating of my heart.
“So, basically, I’ve given up. I don’t want to ever try again, Arsen. It hurts to just think about it. I don’t know if it’s because th-the miscarriage is still too fresh in my memory. I really don’t know. I mean, try to put yourself in my shoes. Wishing, hoping, and praying for that one thing that you want and need the most to be finally yours just to have destiny, or life, or karma, or whatever the hell you want to call it, snatch it out of your hands over and over again. I can’t go through it again. I just can’t.”
His eyes pierce me.
“I know exactly how that feels. More than you know.” Letting his words hang in the air for a moment, I get the feeling that he’s trying to tell me something. “But listen to me, and listen carefully…I’ve been there. You know about Jessica.” He grips my thigh, “I’m not going to go into details, but there was a time when I wanted to give up on life. Shit went down that made me who I am and I can’t, I won’t, ever change that. Fuck, just thinking about it still hurts, but along the way to finding myself again, I discovered an innate truth.”
“Yes?” I whisper.
“Life without love, without chasing your dreams, is nothing. It means nothing. It’s a sad fucking empty shell, Catherine. It’s so easy to drown in darkness, to let it smother you, swallow you whole, to be blinded by it. But you gotta fight. You gotta fucking fight.”
“That’s so easy for you to say. I hate it when people tell me that things will get better…that one day it won’t hurt so much…to not give up and fight! Well, show me how. Show me a way to—”
“Stop. I don’t know what I’m doing either, Catherine.” He takes my hand in his. “Life is full of surprises and challenges at every turn, but I won’t let them stop me. I’m trying to improvise as I go. It’s the only way to survive. You need to look the fucking sick joke that is life straight in the eye and tell it to bring its fucking A game because you shouldn’t go down without a fight.” He kisses my hand and turns his tall frame towards me as he encases me with his body.
“I won’t let you give up. You gotta fight. So cry all you need, get drunk to forget, but don’t let the shittiness of life get to you. You’re better than that. And maybe you should speak to Ben. Open up to him.” The words are forced out of his mouth.
“No. I don’t want to speak to him. He always tells me the same thing. That it’ll be okay. That we’ll be okay, but it won’t be. It never is.”
“Dimples, I’m telling you pretty much the same fucking thing. And Ben is right. You need to let him help you. Together, the two of you could probably overcome all this fucking bullshit,” he says.“No. You’re not trying to reassure me with false promises.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I stop him before he says anything else I don’t want to hear. “No, Arsen. Thank you, but leave it at that. I don’t want to talk about him, or the poor state that my marriage is in.”
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